Chapter 4 ~ The Press Conference

If hell had chandeliers and champagne, it would look exactly like Adrian Voss's press conference.

Cameras flashed like lightning. Voices overlapped. The air pulsed with the sweet, sharp smell of perfume, power, and too much money.

Talia Monroe stood beside her new husband fake husband, contract husband, whatever he was and smiled like her entire life wasn't a walking press release.

Smile, breathe, and don't murder anyone, her inner voice muttered.

Adrian stood to her right, a wall of calm in a suit that probably cost a semester of college. He didn't fidget or even blink. Every line of his body screamed precision.

When the reporters surged forward, he didn't flinch. He simply lifted a hand - one elegant, silent command - and the room obeyed. The noise cut instantly.

Talia's breath hitched. That power wasn't loud. It was terrifyingly quiet.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Adrian began, his voice low, smooth, measured. "My wife and I appreciate you joining us on short notice."

Wife.

The word hit her chest like a drum. She forced another smile, trying not to look like she was internally combusting.

"Given recent events," Adrian continued, "there's been speculation. Allow me to clarify - my marriage to Talia Monroe was neither impulsive nor reactionary. It was a private ceremony planned well in advance."

He didn't look at her, but his hand brushed hers just once, deliberate, calculated. The world saw affection.

She felt choreography.

Touch for the cameras. Hold for the lie.

Reporters started shouting questions.

"When did you meet?"

"How long have you been engaged?"

"Was this revenge on Vanessa King?"

Adrian's jaw tightened at the last name. He didn't answer, but Talia saw the microsecond of tension that betrayed the storm underneath his control.

"Mr. Voss?" someone pressed. "Wasn't Miss Monroe jilted by another man just hours before your wedding?"

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Talia's smile froze. Here we go.

Adrian didn't look at her. Didn't even blink. Then, slowly, he placed a hand on the small of her back - a light touch that felt like ownership and shield all at once.

"Everyone in this room has been misinformed," he said evenly. "My wife was never left by anyone. She was waiting for me."

The words landed like thunder.

A murmur ran through the audience, but no one dared challenge him again.

Talia turned her head slightly, eyes wide. "What was that?" she whispered.

"Damage control," he murmured without moving his lips.

"You just rewrote my entire life."

"You're welcome."

She wanted to elbow him in the ribs - preferably hard enough to make him blink.

After what felt like a century of smiling and pretending she belonged in couture, the conference finally ended. As soon as the doors shut behind the last reporter, Talia exhaled.

"You can drop the act now," she muttered.

Adrian handed his assistant a folder without looking at her. "This is me dropping the act."

"You just lied to the entire press corps!"

"I redirected the narrative."

She threw her hands up. "You gaslighted London!"

He gave her a cold glance. "Welcome to corporate communication, Mrs. Voss."

He really says my name like a court sentence.

Talia paced, heat rising in her chest. "You didn't even ask me before you said all that."

"Would it have changed anything?"

"Yes!"

"No."

Her jaw dropped. "You are infuriating!"

"I'm efficient."

She groaned. "Stop saying that word like it's foreplay!"

That stopped him. He turned, slow and deliberate, expression unreadable.

Oh no. Why did I say that out loud?

A silence stretched between them. Then - to her shock - one corner of his mouth twitched. Almost a smile.

"Foreplay, Mrs. Voss?" he asked softly. "Is that what this feels like to you?"

Her cheeks burned. "You know what I meant!"

"Do I?"

He took a step forward. Just one. Enough to make her heartbeat trip over itself.

"I'm beginning to think you enjoy arguing with me," he said.

"I enjoy proving you wrong."

He leaned in just enough for his breath to graze her ear. "Careful. You might start enjoying me instead."

Abort mission. Do not blush. Do not make eye contact.

Talia stepped back, crossing her arms. "You're unbelievable."

"I know."

"Arrogant."

"Accurate."

"You think you can control everything and everyone, don't you?"

He picked up his phone, thumb sliding across the screen, perfectly calm. "No. Just you."

The words hit her harder than they should have.

On the ride back, the city lights blurred against the tinted car windows. Talia sat rigid beside him, trying not to think about how close his shoulder was - or how her pulse hadn't slowed down since the press conference.

She'd expected silence. Instead, Adrian finally said, "You handled yourself well today."

She blinked. "Was that... a compliment?"

He didn't look up from his phone. "An observation."

"Well, I'm honored to be observed," she muttered.

He didn't smile, but his gaze flicked sideways. "You're not as fragile as people think."

"Gee, thanks. You almost sound impressed."

"I don't get impressed."

"Of course not," she said dryly. "That would be inefficient."

He exhaled - quietly, but it was there. Almost like a laugh.

Did Adrian Voss just laugh? Someone alert NASA.

The driver turned down the street toward his penthouse, and Talia glanced at the reflection in the glass her in white silk beside him in black suit, both pretending to be something they weren't.

It was all a performance. But somewhere between the flash of cameras and the brush of his hand, something real had started humming underneath. Something neither of them were ready to admit.

When they arrived home, Adrian opened the door for her not out of courtesy, but control. Everything he did was a statement.

"Goodnight, Mrs. Voss," he said.

"Goodnight, Mr. Efficiency."

He paused, that same faint twitch of a smile threatening his composure. "You're impossible."

"Thank you," she said sweetly. "I try."

He turned to leave, then stopped. "Stay out of trouble."

"Define trouble."

His eyes met hers, calm and cold and unreadable. "You'll know when I find you in it."

And then he walked away, leaving her alone in the hall heart pounding, mind reeling, and maybe, just maybe, smiling.

You wanted chaos, Adrian Voss, she thought. Now you're living with it.