Adrian wasn't an idiot. He saw through all the faux-innocent gas his forr secretaries used to play. And being the generous man that he was, he often played along for a while. But eventually, it always ended the sa. They got too bold, their work slipped, and he fired them with a smile and a severance check.
But Bianca?
Bianca had lasted two years.
Two. Fricking. Years.
That was practically a lifeti in Adrian Williams' office. Most didn't make it past five months. So barely lasted two. Bianca was the only one who hadn't tried to get into his bed or his bank account. She was all business. Efficient. Sharp. Professional.
It made Adrian... curious.
Or maybe, he thought with a smirk, the reason she's never once looked at like a man is because she's simply not into n at all...
The ntal image that followed almost made him chuckle.
"What are you thinking about?"
The sudden baritone voice jolted him back to reality.
Adrian blinked. His father, Dean Williams, was already standing in front of his desk, watching him with a raised brow.
"Your face looked serious as hell," Dean said, lowering himself into a chair across from him. "You were thinking about sothing."
Adrian cleared his throat. "Nothing."
Yeah, right. "Nothing," my ass.
He was definitely just considering the very real possibility that his secretary might not swing his way and weirdly, that made her even more untouchable. And that intrigued him more than he wanted to admit.
Dean didn't look convinced, but he didn't push. Just nodded, slow and thoughtful, like a man who'd long since learned to choose his battles with his son.
"It's not like you to drop by without calling first," Adrian said with a crooked smirk, leaning back in his chair. "What's the occasion? Must be sothing big if Dean Williams decided to grace with a surprise visit."
Dean gave him a look. "Can't a father visit his only son anymore? You've practically forgotten I exist, Adrian. You never co by the house."
Adrian rolled his eyes. "Co on, Dad. You know I've been swamped lately. I can't exactly drop everything to play family reunion. And I was at your place last month."
Dean raised a brow. "You hear yourself right now? Last month, Adrian. You visited last month. And not a single phone call since. You don't even check if I'm still breathing."
Adrian opened his mouth, but Dean cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand.
"All I see of you these days is your face on gossip sites, arm in arm with a different woman every damn week," Dean said, voice rising. "It's embarrassing. You're not a kid anymore. Look at your age. Thirty one isn't young. It's ti to settle down. Find soone real. Soone good. Soone who can actually make you happy."
Adrian winced. Not at the scolding, he was used to that, but at the word happy.
His father had always wanted him to find love. To believe in sothing soft and lasting.
But Adrian had seen how that story ended.
With his father, broken on the living room floor, clutching an old photo like it was oxygen. Adrian had walked in on him once, late at night, catching the man who once ruled boardrooms sobbing over her. That woman. The one who walked away when things got hard. The one who shattered everything.
And yet... Dean still kept her photo. Still loved her.
How pathetic.
Adrian drew in a slow, deep breath. Thinking about her cracked open sothing in his chest that he didn't like. Sothing sharp. Sothing old. His fingers curled into fists under the desk.
"I'm thirty one," he said coldly. "And I'm not getting married."
Dean's eyes softened at the edges. "Adrian... don't let what happened to poison you. Don't shut yourself off. You deserve love. You deserve to be happy. Love is—"
"Don't," Adrian snapped, shooting up from his chair. His voice was hard, clipped, dangerous. "Don't say that word."
He stared at his father, heart pounding with a rage he couldn't explain. He couldn't believe what he was hearing. After everything, Dean still talked about love like it was so kind of salvation.
Hadn't he learned?
Love didn't heal.
Love broke you.
"Bullshit," Adrian snarled, voice thick with emotion. "Love makes people weak. I don't need it. Love? Don't make laugh. Love isn't going to make happy."
He laughed bitterly, the sound hollow. "If falling in love ans ending up like you, then I'd rather die alone. Look at yourself, Dad. Love broke you. Love made you pathetic. And now you want to end up the sa? No, thanks."
His chest heaved with the weight of everything he'd been bottling up for years. The room felt suffocating, like the walls were pressing in.
Dean flinched, pain flickering across his weathered face. "Adrian, your mother—"
The look Adrian shot him was sharp enough to slice skin.
Dean stopped mid-sentence.
Silence stretched between them, heavy and bitter. Then Dean sighed, voice low, broken. "The reason I ca... wasn't just to talk about that. Your grandfather's back in the hospital."
Adrian froze.
"What?"
Dean's voice cracked. "The doctors say... it's serious this ti. They don't think he has much longer."
Thud.
Adrian collapsed back into his chair like the air had been punched out of him.
No. That couldn't be right.
Grandpa had recovered. He'd been better. He'd been laughing the last ti they spoke. He'd promised to take him fishing again just the two of them, like old tis. Said he still rembered the secret spot by the lake he used to swear was where the big ones bite.
He couldn't breathe. His throat burned. His stomach turned.
After his father, he was the only person who ever made him feel safe. Like he was still human. Like he was still loved.
Dean stepped closer, voice gentle. "You okay, Ad?"
Adrian didn't answer right away. His eyes were distant. Shaken.
"What... what do you an? I thought he was recovering. I thought—"
"He was," Dean said quietly. "The heart issues are under control. But his diabetes relapsed. And this ti... it's worse. A lot worse."
He looked away, blinking hard. His hands curled into fists at his sides.
Adrian stood abruptly. "Where is he?"
"Sa hospital. The usual place."
Without another word, Adrian snatched his car keys off the desk and rushed past his father, heart pounding like a war drum in his chest.
Dean didn't stop him.
He simply stood there, watching his only son disappear through the office doors, his eyes filled with the kind of sadness only a father can understand.
***
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