"You are right, Adrian," Alexander conceded, his voice dangerously quiet, stripped of all emotion except intent. "I cannot own your thoughts. But I can control your environnt. I can control your actions. And I can control exactly who gets close enough to hear what your heart is thinking."
He took a slow step forward, the movent smooth and intimidating. Adrian held his ground, his chin slightly lifted, though his defiance was visibly costing him.
"You want to talk about Sebastian," Alexander stated, his gaze dropping briefly to Adrian’s lips. "Fine. Sebastian wants you. He admires your secretary persona, who is secretly my wife. This is going to be the test of your obedience, Mr. Cole."
Alexander reached out, not to grasp or hurt, but to gently cup Adrian’s cheek, his thumb brushing away the track of a tear. The touch was unnervingly tender.
"Sebastian is coming here with my mother. You will be Adrienne Devereux. You will be the perfect, loving, devoted wife. You will sit on my lap, you will laugh at my jokes, and you will ensure that by the ti he leaves this house, Sebastian is entirely convinced that the person he is sighing over—Adrian Cole—is nothing more than a loyal, overworked employee who holds no interest for him."
His eyes hardened. "And you will do this without a single prompt from . You will demonstrate your devotion so perfectly that he will stop pursuing you. If he so much as glances at you with romantic intent, if he tries to contact you, if you give him any reason to believe you are available or unhappy—I will not only stop paying your mother’s bills, I will call the board and expose your fraud before dinner."
Alexander leaned in, his lips brushing Adrian’s ear. "I will break your will, Adrian, by taking away the only reason you fought in the first place—your mother. You want to test ? Let’s see how much you value your will over her life."
He pulled back, his eyes demanding acknowledgent of the threat. "You will be my flawless property today. Now, go to the closet in the Master Suite and choose one of the dresses for Adrienne. I expect perfection."
Alexander turned and walked back to his desk, sitting down and picking up his tablet, completely dismissing Adrian as if the conversation had never happened.
Adrian stood there, shaking. The contract, the humiliation, the forced proximity—it was all secondary to the single, cold-blooded threat against his mother. Alexander had found his ultimate weapon. Adrian’s defiance evaporated, replaced by a cold, numbing dread.
He had no choice.
"Yes, Boss," Adrian whispered, his voice thin and broken. He turned and headed toward the Master Suite, his short hair and simple clothes a stark contrast to the task awaiting him. He had to beco Adrienne, the perfect, devoted wife, and he had to do it flawlessly to save his mother’s life.
Ten minutes later, Adrian stood in the hallway, dressed as Adrienne, his palms sweating profusely as he listened to Agatha’s laughter as she made a joke about her son having sleepless nights for Adrian.
"You look perfect," Angrlica placed a hand on his shoulder, smiling, "They won’t suspect a thing... just, do that you wiry your voice and you’ll sound nothing like yourself," she whispered, winking at him.
Adrian chuckled when he saw her wink, feeling s little relieved. She had helped him dress up and applied his make-up, and for the first ti, Adrienne looked even prettier than she used to. A touch of a real woman will always be different.
"Thank you, Angelica," He hugged her gently.
Angelica smiled, stepped back and admired the way the black wig frad Adrian’s/Adrienne’s delicate face. She had gone conservative with the dressing: a flowing long skirt and a loose blouse, leaving everything to the imagination.
She dressed to protect Adrian and to make Adrienne appear like a dutiful housewife. Nothing would ever make anyone recognise her.
"Co on, you’ve got a husband to please," Agatha smirked and gently led Adrian out to the living room.
Adrian braces himself, armouring himself with Adrienne’s cool confidence. He was going to give Alexander just what he wanted: a loving wife.
"Oh. Look, here cos my sweetest daughter-in-law!" Mrs. Devereux announced as Adrian walked into the living room.
"Hi, mother, Hello, Agatha, it’s nice to see you again," Adrian spoke softly as she kissed their cheeks.
"It’s nice to et you, too, sweetheart, you look so dostic, right, Sandra?" Agatha asked Mrs. Devereux, smirking secretly.
Mrs. Devereux nodded, "Absolutely, my dear. It could only an she’s happy with my son, right, dear?" She asked Adrian.
Adrian nodded, "Yes, mother," she glanced at Alexander, who was sitting on a single couch across from Sebastian, who by the way was staring at Adrian like he had a lot of things to say.
"My husband is the best, even in my next world, I would choose him over and over again," Adrian smiled at Alexander and gently walked over to him, lowering himself on his lap and settling right between his legs.
Alexander stiffened.
He knew he had asked Adrian to sit on his lap, but he never thought about what would happen next when he had Adrian’s ass pressing against him, warm, soft and moving.
He didn’t think his plan through, and this ti, he might just have shot himself in the foot.
"Hi, Mr. Sebastian, we et again," Adrian greeted from Alexander’s lap, tilting his body to face Sebastian on the other side of their couch, the movent causing him to move against Alexander’s lap.
Adrian’s movent on Alexander’s lap, subtle as it was, sent a jolt of raw heat through Alexander, confirming his earlier, hasty self-assessnt: this was a terrible, beautiful, self-inflicted wound. Alexander’s jaw was rigid, his grip on Adrian’s waist tightening to a near-vice to stabilise the situation—and himself.
Adrian, feeling the imdiate, intense reaction of the man beneath him, recognised the power he held, even in his role as a slave. He pushed the wave of fear down and focused entirely on his audience.
He turned slightly in Alexander’s lap, ensuring he maintained eye contact with Sebastian while presenting the full picture of intimate comfort to the mothers.
"Mr. Sebastian," Adrian began, his voice soft, almost pitying, leaning heavily on the pretence of the previous day’s conversation. "I heard you were quite interested in my husband’s secretary, Adrian Cole. It’s truly a sha."
Sebastian frowned, his gaze flicking from Adrian’s face to the possessive grip Alexander had on his waist. "A sha, why?"
Adrian smiled serenely, resting his hand casually on Alexander’s shoulder—a gesture of ownership. "Because Adrian didn’t co because he doesn’t like you."
The statent, delivered with the calm certainty of a wife discussing her husband’s employee, hit Sebastian visibly. His posture stiffened, and his eyes narrowed, searching Adrian’s face for any sign of a lie or a joke.
"He has a girlfriend," Adrian continued, effortlessly fabricating the necessary block. "A lovely girl. He’s quite devoted, actually. He’s very private, but he ntions her sotis. Very serious, long-term."
He looked directly at Sebastian, his grey eyes shining with forced sympathy. "Honestly, Mr. Sebastian, you should stop pursuing him. It’s unprofessional for the office environnt, and you’re wasting your ti. He’s absolutely taken."
The room was silent. Sebastian’s face tightened with sudden, sharp disappointnt, and a distinct flash of what looked undeniably like jealousy darkened his eyes.
Mrs. Devereux and Agatha exchanged glances, the mothers’ conspiracy montarily interrupted by the drama.
Alexander, anwhile, was fighting a silent battle. Adrian’s hand resting on his shoulder, the gentle pressure of his body against Alexander’s arousal—which was becoming increasingly difficult to hide—and the audacious lie about a girlfriend filled Alexander with a volatile mix of possessive triumph and searing irritation. The lie was perfect for Sebastian, but personally, it infuriated him.
"You speak so highly of your husband’s secretary, dear," Mrs. Devereux observed, her tone curious.
Adrian tilted his head, giving Alexander a bright, loving look. "Oh, he’s loyal to Alex, Mother, and he’s very good at his job. But he’s reserved. And completely committed to his personal life."
Then, without warning, and purely to solidify the performance and silence the raging man beneath him, Adrian lifted his hand from Alexander’s shoulder, frad Alexander’s jaw, and kissed him.
It wasn’t the violent, demanding kiss of the previous day. This was soft, slow, and devastatingly intimate—the kind of kiss a happily married couple shares in public. He pressed his lips against Alexander’s, a soft, deliberate seal of possession.
Alexander’s eyes snapped wide open in shock, but before he could tense or pull away, Adrian leaned back, his eyes sparkling with a challenge only Alexander could see.
"My handso husband is the only man I’ll ever need," Adrian whispered, loud enough for the entire table to hear, resting his head lightly on Alexander’s chest.
Alexander, utterly blindsided and trapped by the flawless, public submission, found his composure dissolving. The warm pressure on his lap, the lingering heat of Adrian’s mouth, and the sudden, fierce jealousy that Sebastian’s crestfallen face confird—it was too much.
He had demanded obedience, and Adrian was repaying him with public, perfect, infuriating devotion.
Alexander’s hand moved from Adrian’s waist to his chin, lifting it sharply. His eyes were dangerously hooded.
"That’s right, darling," Alexander rumbled, forcing a tender smile that didn’t reach his eyes. He squeezed Adrian’s chin slightly, a silent, painful reprimand. "Adrian was quite particular about his relationship. He said and I quote, that he loves his partner so much and will never cheat on him," he said, glancing at Sebastian’s darkening face.
Sebastian suddenly stood, surprising everyone.
"Sebastian, what’s the problem?" Agathe asked.
"I’ll only belive thise words if Adrian days them himself," he pinned Adrian with a heated look, "We’ll be seeing each other again, Adrienne. Goodbye," with that, he walked out of the house, leaving everyone with a shovk of his strong devotion to Adrian.
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