Adrian's POV:
Twenty minutes.
Twenty fucking minutes.
That's how long I've been stuck in pointless conversations with men who speak like their words matter. But right now, none of what they say matters to me.
I told Elena I'd be with her in a minute, and here I am. And I still haven't figured out what happened to her the other night, that's why I wanted to keep her close.
Each time I think I'm done, I'm dragged back into fresh conversations with investors, partners, idiots who think they deserve any of my attention.
I've had enough.
"Mr. Moretti, one last thing—"
"It can wait." The words cut sharp, colder than I intended, but I don't care.
My patience is gone.
"But it's just that we have to..."
"Did you not hear me the first time? I said it can wait. And if you're too impatient, then call off the whole damn thing," I grit out, holding my anger in.
"Now, if you'll excuse me, I need to go find my wife."
