He smiled faintly, like he had just won a game only he knew the rules to.
The Crawfords' dinner was the kind of social obligation that demanded effort but rarely delivered satisfaction. Their house was grand but sterile, the kind of place designed to impress rather than welcome. Crystal chandeliers, white carpets no one dared spill on, and laughter that echoed hollowly against marble walls.
Daniel thrived in such spaces. He slipped into his role effortlessly charming, professional, polished. I watched him from across the table as he gestured animatedly during some story about a client, his colleagues chuckling obligingly. It should have made me proud, this polished version of my husband. Instead, it felt like watching a stranger wear his skin.
Beside me, Adrian was all shadows. He leaned back in his chair, half-smile playing at his lips, eyes scanning the room as though he could see straight through the pretenses. When his gaze landed on me, it lingered.
I forced myself to sip wine, to laugh at Mrs. Crawford's story, to act normal. But every time I dared glance sideways, I caught him watching me with that same steady intensity, like a man waiting for a door he knew would eventually open.
When dessert was served a delicate custard with sugared berries. I found myself pushing food around my plate, unable to swallow past the lump in my throat. Daniel didn't notice. Adrian did. He leaned closer, his breath warm near my ear, his voice pitched low so only I could hear.
"Are you thinking about it?"
The spoon clattered against my plate. I froze, pulse pounding.
I didn't ask what he meant. I already knew.
The note. Tonight. After midnight.
My cheeks burned. I kept my gaze fixed on the custard, nodding politely as Mrs. Crawford droned on about her gardenias.
Adrian chuckled softly, the sound rich with amusement. "You are," he murmured, as though confirming a truth I'd denied even to myself.
I dared a glance at him then, a glare meant to shut him up. But his eyes were dark and unflinching, holding me captive until Daniel clapped him on the shoulder, breaking the moment.
"You'll like Adrian's stories," Daniel told the table. "Always the adventurer. Spain, Italy, South America, he's seen it all."
Adrian's smile was lazy. "Some adventures are closer than you think."
My stomach twisted.
By the time we returned home, I was raw with nerves. Daniel was humming under his breath as he loosened his tie, heading straight upstairs.
"Long day tomorrow," he yawned. "Don't stay up too late."
I nodded, forcing a smile, heart hammering so loudly I was sure he could hear it.
When his footsteps faded upstairs, I sank onto the sofa, my hands buried in my lap. Midnight loomed like a storm on the horizon.
I could ignore it. Pretend the note never existed. Lock myself in bed beside my husband and let the house go silent around me.
But I couldn't. The truth gnawed at me. I wanted to know what would happen if I went.
No, I needed to know.
The house was hushed by the time the clock struck twelve. Moonlight spilled across the floorboards, casting long silver shadows. I slid from bed with careful precision, Daniel's breathing steady and deep behind me.
Each step down the stairs felt like a betrayal, the carpet swallowing my movements, the silence amplifying my guilt. My palms were damp, my heart threatening to crack my ribs.
The living room glowed faintly with the dying embers of the fireplace. Adrian sat on the sofa, a glass of whiskey in hand, as though he'd been waiting for hours.
He didn't look surprised to see me.
"Emma," he said softly, my name like a caress. "I knew you'd come."
I hesitated in the doorway, torn between running and stepping closer. "I shouldn't be here."
"But you are."
He set his glass down, rising with fluid grace. He crossed the room slowly, each step deliberate, closing the space between us until I had to tilt my chin to look at him.
My pulse thundered. "If Daniel..."
"Daniel is asleep." His voice was calm, certain. "He won't wake."
I should have turned around. I should have fled upstairs, slammed the door, buried myself under the covers. Instead, I whispered, "Why are you doing this?"
His smile was faint, but his eyes burned. "Because I see you. Because you're drowning in silence, and no one has reached for you in years." His hand lifted, fingertips brushing the back of mine, feather-light. "Because you want me to."
The air between us crackled. I stood frozen, torn between resistance and surrender, every nerve in my body alive under his touch.
"You don't know what I want," I whispered, but the words lacked conviction.
His fingers trailed up my wrist, slow, deliberate. "Don't I?"
I trembled. My breath came shallow, fast. I hated how much I wanted to lean into him, how my body betrayed me when my mind screamed no.
Then his lips were near my ear, his breath hot against my skin. "All you have to do is tell me to stop."
The seconds stretched, heavy and unbearable. My throat worked, but the words refused to come.
Instead, I closed my eyes.
And in that silence, in my weakness, his lips brushed mine.
Soft, searching, forbidden.
The world tilted. My knees nearly buckled. Heat exploded in my chest, racing through me like wildfire. I should have pulled back. I should have ended it.
But I didn't.
For one devastating moment, I kissed him back.
The creak of floorboards shattered it.
I froze, breath caught in my throat, eyes flying open. Adrian stepped back instantly, his expression unreadable, though his eyes still burned.
Footsteps. Upstairs. Slow. Heavy.
Daniel.
Panic surged through me. I smoothed my hair, pressed trembling fingers to my lips, forcing myself to breathe. Adrian sank back onto the sofa, his posture casual, as though nothing had happened, as though he hadn't just cracked open the fault line beneath my marriage.
"Emma?" Daniel's voice drifted down, groggy, suspicious. "Why are you up?"
I swallowed hard, heart slamming. "I...I couldn't sleep. Just… tea."
Silence. Then his footsteps receded, the bedroom door shutting softly.
I exhaled, shaking.
Adrian's smile returned, slow and dangerous. "You see? Even fate doesn't want us caught. Not yet."
I glared, though my voice shook. "This is wrong."
He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes locked on mine. "Wrong has never felt so right, has it?"
I couldn't answer. Because deep down, I knew the truth.