Adam looked like hell. He was usually composed, cold, and immaculately put together, and now sat with his tie loosened, his jaw tight, and his eyes glued to the city skyline like it had personally offended him.
"Three weeks and still no word?" Tristan asked carefully, breaking the silence.
Adam didn't respond. His silence was already the answer.
"You're really letting a woman haunt you this much?" Tristan added, only half-joking. "That's new."
Adam's gaze didn't waver. "She left without saying goodbye. Took my damn jacket and disappeared like smoke."
Tristan blinked. "Wait... she took your jacket?"
Adam finally turned to him, his eyes sharp. "You're missing the point."
"No, I got the point. You're obsessed, and it's messing with your head."
Tristan never understood. He was always the romantic, believing in fate, chemistry, and signs. Adam didn't do signs. He did logic, results, and control.
And yet, none of that explained why a one-night stand with a woman whose name he didn't even know had lodged itself into his bloodstream like an addiction.
"She was a virgin, Tristan," Adam muttered, his voice low. "And she gave that to me. No strings, no expectations, and still walked away."
Tristan stilled, his smug expression fading. "She what?"
Adam didn't repeat it. He didn't need to.
"I thought she'd come back. Thought I'd see her again and figure it out. But it's been three weeks and all I've got is her scent in my sheets and her silence."
He leaned back, running a hand through his hair.
"I need a wife for this deal. Raymond's made that clear. And I'm about to marry some woman I've never met—while the one I want is out there acting like I never happened."
Tristan sighed, walking to the minibar. "You always said love was a weakness."
"It still is," Adam bit out. "Which is why I'm not in love."
Tristan poured a drink and handed it to him. "Then why do you look like a man who's already lost?"
"Enough."
Adam's voice was low, edged with warning. "I'm not thinking about her the way you're trying to imply. I just need someone like her, that's all."
"Right," Tristan said, arching a brow, his tone drenched in disbelief. "And you're not furious because Raymond is forcing you to do the one thing you swore you'd never do?"
Adam stood abruptly, the chair groaning behind him as he pushed it back. He paced like a storm barely contained, each step echoing the frustration burning in his chest.
"She just fit the role, Tristan. Detached. Uncomplicated." He raked a hand through his hair. "I thought she'd be perfect for this arrangement, nothing more."
"But she left," Tristan said quietly, "and now you're unraveling."
Adam stopped pacing, his jaw tight. "I don't unravel."
"You do now," Tristan replied. "And don't pretend it's about the deal."
"Why the hell do I need to get married in the first place? I rebuilt this company from the ground up. Tripled its worth after my father died. I've hit every damn target Raymond set—and then some. And now he wants to question my capability because I don't wear a ring?"
"He's waiting in the boardroom, by the way." Tristan's tone was gentler now. "You might want to come up with a plan before he chooses your bride for you."
Adam stopped walking. His fists clenched at his sides. He sat back in his chair and stared back at his computer monitor.
She was the only woman who ever walked away from him first. He hated how much that mattered.
She must've been in her mid-twenties, poised and composed, but still untouched. The realization unsettled him. Why save herself for so long, only to give that part of her to him, a stranger?
That question haunted him, wrapping around his mind until her absence was no longer just a mystery, and that night with her, it became his obsession.
But Adam knew better. He kept telling himself it wasn't the woman he couldn't forget—it was the sting of his pride. One night. One reckless, unforgettable moment. It wasn't just the desire that haunted him. It was the way she made sure it meant nothing more. She didn't ask for his name. Didn't want anything beyond the heat of that night. And that—her complete detachment—was what he couldn't let go of. What he couldn't forgive.
"Hey, Adam! Raymond is waiting!"
Tristan's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts, snapping him back to the present like a whipcrack. Adam blinked, realizing he'd been staring blankly at his monitor for the past ten minutes—seeing her face instead of numbers, her silhouette instead of graphs.
He let out a slow breath, composed himself, and adjusted his tie with practiced precision, though his fingers moved a little too tightly. The knot felt suffocating, like the pressure building in his chest since the moment she walked out of his life without looking back.
Without a word, he rose from his chair and strode toward the door, his jaw set, his steps sharp and determined. Tristan followed close behind, glancing at him with the wary concern of someone who knew Adam Ravenstrong a little too well.
"You good?" Tristan asked quietly as they walked down the hallway.
Adam didn't respond.
Because no—he wasn't good. Not when the one woman he couldn't forget had vanished like smoke, and the only thing waiting for him behind those boardroom doors was a deal sealed by a condition he never agreed to.
But for now, he buried it all behind his steel mask, pushed open the door, and stepped into the room like the man everyone expected him to be.
"So good to see you, my godson," Raymond said the moment they stepped inside.
Adam felt a familiar ache in his chest. This man—his father's best friend—had been there for him through everything. A mentor, a constant. Someone he once trusted without question.
But now, all he could see was the man who tied the most personal condition to the most important deal of his career.
"Are you ready for your wedding three days from now?" Raymond's voice carried a teasing lilt, his smile calm—too calm for Adam's liking.
Adam leaned forward, his jaw tightening. "Who is this woman? If I'm expected to marry her, I want to know everything. Now."
Raymond only chuckled, shaking his head like a man amused by a child's tantrum. "Don't worry. I know her better than anyone. She's special, Adam. You'll come to appreciate her. And more importantly—she's still pure."
Adam's brow arched sharply. The word pure felt archaic, offensive even—but what rattled him more was how familiar that detail felt.
"I don't do love. Or commitment," Adam snapped, his voice colder now. "If she really is as 'special' as you claim, then you're doing her a disservice. You should be keeping her far away from me, not dragging her to a courthouse for a legal farce. You know damn well I don't want a wife."
But Raymond just smiled like a man with a winning hand.
"I know you, Adam. Beneath all that ice, there's still a man capable of kindness, of loyalty. You have what it takes to be a good husband. A great one, even. You just don't see it yet."
Adam's fingers curled into fists, fury boiling beneath his calm exterior. He wasn't sure what infuriated him more—that Raymond believed in him... or that he sounded so certain.
Raymond stood, brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve before turning to Tristan.
"Just make sure he shows up. You know what's at stake, and I'll be there to witness everything—front row."
Without waiting for a response, Raymond walked out of the room, leaving behind a silence so thick it pressed against Adam's chest.
Adam didn't move. He was too busy wondering—
What the hell kind of game was this, and why did it feel like he was already losing?
The day Adam Ravenstrong dreaded had finally arrived. And for once, he wasn't sure how to brace himself.
Raymond had arranged everything—down to the last detail. The courthouse, the judge, the paperwork... and the bride.
The only twist? Adam still hadn't met the woman he was about to marry.
"You could walk away from this," Tristan said quietly, watching Adam like he was a ticking bomb. "Lose the merger. Wait for the next big deal to come along. You always do."
Adam didn't move. His gaze was fixed on the courtroom doors, unmoving. A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"No," he finally muttered. "I've been chasing this deal for years. Pestering Raymond at every turn. And now that he's finally said yes... he's made damn sure I pay for it by losing a part of myself."
Tristan tilted his head. "You think it's Beatrice?"
The color drained from Adam's face. "I don't think he'd use his own daughter as a pawn. Not even for this. No matter how badly she begged him."
"But what if he did?" Tristan asked, voice low, almost playful—but laced with caution.
Adam turned to him, his eyes cold and hard. "Then I'll make sure she walks out of that courtroom before she even gets the chance to say I do."
Tristan exhaled slowly, leaning back on the bench with a groan. "I hope she's grown up by now. Finally moved on from her teenage obsession with you."
He paused, then added with a smirk, "Though I have to admit... I'd love to see her face when she finds out you're getting married."
Adam didn't smile because he wasn't worried about Beatrice anymore.
Not since he saw the woman in white waiting inside that courtroom. The one who already stole something from him he didn't know he was still protecting—control.
How the hell did she end up here?
And more importantly—what was her connection to Raymond?
Adam's jaw tightened as realization crashed over him like ice water. She didn't come back because she wanted more of him. She came back because she needed money.
Raymond's words echoed in his mind, fragments he'd dismissed too quickly at the time.
"She'll play the role of your perfect wife as long as you give her what she needs. A house. Security. Nothing more."
At the time, Adam hadn't cared. Hadn't even listened beyond the basics. But now, he regretted every second of it. Because the woman who once walked away from him without a name, without a second glance, was now standing inside the courtroom as his bride.
Not as a lover or a partner, but as a woman willing to sell the illusion of forever in exchange for survival. For the first time in his life, Adam didn't feel powerful, he felt played, like someone had turned the game against him.