CHAPTER 200: THE ART OF ARRIVAL

We arrived at the mansion just as the sky deepened into a bruised purple wash, the last sliver of sun slipping behind the iron spired towers that jutted from the estate like the ribs of some ancient leviathan. The convertible rolled through the wrought-iron gates, headlights sweeping across manicured hedges and the low, bubbling lullaby of the fountain.

The moment we stopped, Thomas gave a crisp, almost theatrical signal. Servants in immaculate black livery surged forward, silent and efficient, their gloved hands flicking open the trunk of the G Wagon. They began offloading the dozens of shopping bags and neatly boxed groceries from its trunk—items we’d picked up halfway through the drive, courtesy of Aria’s dispatch detour.

We left them and went inside the house, the marble foyer gleamed under the chandeliers. The click of our boots echoed as we moved deeper into the cavernous foyer. Once we reached the sitting area, we dropped our phones and tugged off our knee-high boots, trading leather for thick, plush house slippers that swallowed our feet. Time was the enemy now, a relentless drumbeat against the magnificent silence of the mansion.

"Alright," Aria whispered, eyes sparking with mischief as she stood up from the sofa, "battle stations. We have, what—"

And then the sound of the front doors opening froze us both.

Aria’s mouth snapped shut, the half-formed word dying on her lips. Her eyes, wide with alarm, darted to the mountain of grocery bags whisked away by the staff, then to my own horrified face.

"Oh, hell no," she hissed.

Low voices carried in before we saw them.

The doors swung wide, and there he was.

Adrien.

He stepped inside with Cameron trailing behind him, his presence filling the room like a storm front rolling in. My pulse leapt before I could stop it. His gaze lifted—and locked onto mine. For a moment, he froze. For a long, agonizing beat, the world narrowed to the space between us.

"You’re back," I began, breathless, but I didn’t even get the words out before he closed the space between us in long, determined strides like a man starved.

His arms went around me, strong and certain, pulling me against his chest. My face pressed against the cool wool of his shirt, his scent washing over me—blend of crisp linen and something subtly masculine and wild. My own arms, almost on instinct, wrapped around his waist, holding on as if he might vanish. He bent his head until his lips brushed my hair, his voice low and rough like it had been pulled straight from his chest.

"I couldn’t help but think about you all day," he murmured into my ear. "I missed you

His words were a warm current in the sudden chill of the early evening, a startling confession that made my heart hammer even harder against my ribs. I buried my face deeper, breathing him in as heat flushed across my cheeks so fast I barely managed a whisper. "I... I missed you too."

He didn’t let go right away.

He pulled back just enough to look at me, that familiar half-lidded gaze raking over my face, searching for something. I felt myself blush deeper as I tried not to stare at his lips, so close and tantalizingly almost-touching mine. I was about to speak, almost ready to pull back and say something witty or coy, but then his hands slid to my chin, tipping it up, and he leaned forward until his mouth brushed lightly against mine.

It wasn’t a kiss—not quite. Just the barest press of lips, soft and teasing, like a question whispered in the dark. A promise left hanging.

Then he pulled back, his hand lingered at my waist before he straightened, his eyes flicking toward Aria.

She gave him a crisp little nod of acknowledgment, chin up like she wasn’t fazed in the slightest. Adrien’s own nod was measured, polite—but I swore I saw the corner of his mouth twitch in silent amusement.

Adrien’s gaze returned to me, and the intensity in it made my heart stutter in my chest. His expression was inscrutable, still that carefully constructed mask of control. His thumb brushed across my jaw. "You look flushed," he murmured. "How was your day?"

My words felt thick in my throat, the lingering sensations of that not-quite- a-kiss leaving me flushed and breathless. I managed a small, slightly shaky smile, hoping to cover the swirling of emotions within me. "Fabulous," I said honestly, smiling.

"I hope you made use of.. the card well."

Before I could answer, Aria smirked like a cat caught in cream. "Trust me. We did."

A ghost of a chuckle passed over his mouth, but then he reached behind him and pulled forward something I hadn’t noticed—an elegant bouquet wrapped in pale paper, blooms in soft hues that looked like they’d been cut from the last of summer.

"I picked these up on my way," he said, eyes steady on mine. "It reminded me of you... soft on the outside, but with a way of overtaking everything around it if you let it." His tone softened. "Hope you like them."

My stomach tightened at the sight of the bouquet—those blooms held in his grip like a secret offering. They were beautiful, soft and feminine, and the words he’d used... I couldn’t even breathe, not with him standing so close, his eyes never leaving my face.

He was studying me, reading me like a book as he waited for a response.

Finally, I found my voice, my words just above a whisper. "They’re gorgeous. Thank you."

And then—Cameron cleared his throat. Loudly. "So, uh... Adrien. Can I drop the bags and leave before my arms give out and I collapse here?"

Adrien turned his head slowly, a single sharp look cutting into Cameron. Cameron winced but held on tighter to the paper bags clutched against his chest.

Aria turned to me, eyes gleaming. ""So... are we still cooking, or what?"

"Yes," Cameron answered before I could. "Adrien actually planned to make something special for his woman—"

"What?" I cut in, startled. "No way. I actually bought some groceries because I wanted to cook dinner for you."

Cameron winced again, looking between me and Adrien with the expression of a man who’d just stepped on a landmine. Adrien’s eyes narrowed on Cameron for a fraction of a second, a silent, potent warning, before his gaze softened, turning back to me. A slow, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips.

Aria, however, let out a delighted, albeit hushed, laugh. "Oh, this is rich," she murmured, eyes sparkling with unapologetic amusement.

My face, which had just begun to cool, flushed anew. This was supposed to be a surprise. My secret, meticulously planned dinner for him, now exposed and crashing headlong into his surprise dinner for me.

"It seems we had the same idea," Adrien said, his voice calm, an undercurrent of something warm and deeply pleased in it. He took the bouquet from my still-clutching hand, placing it gently on a nearby console table before his hands found my waist again, pulling me a fraction closer. "Though," he added, his thumb brushing over my hip bone, "I believe my intention was to cook for you."

"And mine for you!" I retorted, a little breathlessly, then realized how childish it sounded. "I mean, I wanted to surprise you. We ordred a road delivery for ingredients on the way back under the pressure of you coming back in like.. Twenty minutes."

He chuckled, a low, soft sound that made my cheeks burn hotter. "You went to a lot of effort for me." His words held a note of tender surprise, as if he wasn’t sure what he’d done to deserve the effort. "Thank you."

Cameron cleared his throat again, more insistent this time. I’d almost forgotten Aria and Cameron were even there. Almost.

Cameron groaned dramatically. "Unbelievable. I’ve been stuck with you all day and not a single smile. Since you’ve walked in all of a sudden you’re Mr. Sunshine."

Before he could finish, Aria spun and jabbed him hard in the stomach with her elbow. Cameron doubled over with a strangled sound, nearly dropping the bags.

"What the hell was that for?" he wheezed. "How did you even—how did you get to my side that fast?"

Aria, unfazed, turned back to him, a wicked grin spreading across her face. "For being incredibly rude, darling. And because you deserve it." She punctuated the statement with a sharp nod. "And to answer your question, years of competitive fencing, sweetie. You never know when you’ll need to drop an overgrown man-child."

Cameron, still clearly winded, clutched his stomach and glared. "Fencing? You just elbowed me! That’s not fencing, that’s assault! And who are you calling an overgrown man-child?"

I laughed, unable to hold it in, and even Adrien’s mouth twitched like he was fighting a chuckle.

Cameron shot us both a look. "Oh, laugh it up you two." He winced and rubbed his side. "I’m wounded! I’ve been brutalized!"

Cameron was still doubled over when Adrien’s voice cut smoothly through the room. "Enough," he said, the weight of command threading every syllable. "Since both of us apparently had the same idea..." His gaze shifted back to me, softer now, thumb brushing lightly against my waist. "...we’ll cook together. What you planned," his said, warm and unguarded, "and what I planned. Combined."

"Together?" I echoed, blinking.

His mouth tilted into the faintest smile. "All of us." He flicked a glance toward Aria and Cameron, whose squabbling hadn’t slowed in the slightest. "Since everyone seems so invested in this meal."

Aria straightened like a soldier called to arms. "Yes! Kitchen battle royale. I call sous-chef!"

"Ha!" Cameron scoffed. "You’ll burn the house down. I’m confiscating all fire-based tools before we start."

Aria flipped her hair. "Please. I’m an artist with a pan. You? I’m sure you couldn’t even boil noodles without crying for help."

"Lies and slander!" Cameron shot back, already following us toward the kitchen.