CHAPTER 212: NEGOTIATIONS

ADRIEN’S POV

I closed the door behind us, the sound of its magnetic catch sealing us in a bubble of heavy silence. The playful energy I’d felt waiting for Isabella evaporated, replaced by the familiar, frustrating weight of being a big...brother. I turned to face my sister, who had already sauntered over to one of the plush leather armchairs facing my desk and dropped into it, all limbs and nonchalance.

"Alright, Elara," I began, keeping my voice a warning more than a greeting. "Let’s start with the basics. Start talking. Why are you here and not at school?

She looked up, completely unbothered, as though I’d just asked about the weather. "Holiday. We’re on holiday, in case you forgot how the school calendar works."

"Holiday in that particular school does not mean unsupervised world travel, Elara. Where is your bodyguard? Your nanny? And how did you even get to the city? Last I checked, your academy is a good three states away from here." My mind was already racing, calculating potential security breaches, wondering how she’d managed to slip the net. This wasn’t the first time, but she usually at least left a cryptic note.

Elara rolled her eyes, a gesture so perfectly mimicking my own frustrations that it was almost unsettling. "Freedom, big brother. They suffocate me. I needed a break from their hovering, their schedules, their—" she paused, "— everything." She paused again. "I wanted freedom. So I came to say hi to my favorite brother."

I pinched the bridge of my nose. "You flew here. Alone."

"Commercial flight," she said with a shrug. "Perfectly safe. Don’t look at me like that. I even wore my seatbelt."

"Elara." My voice carried a warning edge.

She leaned back, arms spread across. "Relax. I just wanted to crash at your place for a bit before I go back to that depressive mausoleum we call home. Your parent’s house is suffocating. You’re more fun."

"No." My tone was a scalpel. I didn’t leave room for negotiation.

Her smile didn’t falter; if anything, it deepened. "You don’t have a choice, brother." The challenge in her voice was undeniable.

"You’re a minor, Elara. You pulled a reckless stunt that will give Mother a heart attack when she finds out. You’re going back. Today."

"Am I?" she challenged, her hazel eyes glinting.

Before I could retort, my phone, lying face down on the desk, began to vibrate, its insistent buzz cutting through the tension. I glanced at the screen.

Mother.

I shot Elara a venomous look, which she returned with a placid, knowing stare. I answered, turning away slightly and pinching the bridge of my nose. "Mother."

"Adrien, thank God!" Her voice, normally like silk, was frayed with panic. "She’s gone. Elara’s gone. Antoine just called me, he’s in hysterics. They lost her at the airport in Genena hours ago. We’ve just discovered she booked a flight... here. On her own. Her phone is off, we can’t track her—"

I cut off the torrent of her fear, keeping my voice low and steady, a practiced calm I used for hostile takeovers, now deployed to soothe my own mother. "It’s alright, Mother. Breathe. I have her. She’s with me. She’s safe."

A choked sob of relief came through the line. "Oh, Adrien. Is she alright? I was imagining..."

"She’s perfectly fine." I said, glaring at her. "And extremely grounded. I’ll handle it. I’ll call you back later."

"Thank you, my darling. Thank you."

I ended the call and placed the phone back on the desk with a definitive click. The silence in the room was now loaded. Elara was leaning back in the chair, one ankle crossed over her knee, looking insufferably smug.

"So," she said, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "Since you told Mum you’d handle it, that means... I’m staying at your place."

I let out a slow, controlled breath, fighting the urge to pick up a b paperweight and hurl it through the floor-to-ceiling window. She had me. Sending her back now would cause more panic. The only logical, safe option was to keep her with me.

"Two days," I said through gritted teeth. "Then you go to the estate and apologize to Mother in person."

Her smirk widened. "One month."

"A day and a half."

"Two weeks."

"One day."

She leaned forward, her expression turning serious, the negotiation in full swing. "One week. I’ll be a ghost. You won’t even know I’m there."

"Twelve hours. I’ll have a jet ready for you in the morning."

She stood up, walking toward my window and gazing out over the city skyline. "Two days," she stated, turning back to face me. "And no disturbance. You don’t ask where I am, I don’t mess with your things. Or your girlfriend. She’s cool."

The mention of Isabella was a calculated move, and a damn good one. Fine. She’d won. For now.

"Deal," I sighed, the word tasting like defeat.

Elara’s smirk returned, triumphant. She had gotten exactly what she wanted. One problem solved, another one just beginning. And somewhere in the middle of it all was my woman, the calm, brilliant center of my storm. I made a mental note to buy her flowers. A whole damn garden, if she’d let me.

*****

ISABELLA’S POV

By the time we left Vantage & Cole, my head was buzzing with the day’s events as my thoughts drifts.

It had been a month since that disaster with Brenda.

Elara—Adrien’s little sister—had ended up sitting at my desk for the rest of the afternoon, chin propped on her palm, simply staring at me like I was a zoo exhibit. It should have unnerved me. In truth, it did. But after the first hour, I found myself oddly charmed. She didn’t speak much, but whenever our eyes met, she gave this sly, knowing smile that made me wonder if Adrien had a female clone tucked away in some secret lab.

And Brenda... well. By the time the clock struck three, word had spread like wildfire that she’d been dismissed. Fired. Just like that.

Word of Brenda’s downfall had spread through Vantage and Cole like wildfire. Everyone expected her to disappear in shame. Instead, whispers traveled— she’d landed on her feet, tucked neatly into another branch, even promoted to head of a department. It seemed too neat, too tidy, and then the truth slithered out.

She’d been placed there by the very executive she’d been seeing in secret. His "protection" lasted barely two weeks before Adrien pulled the rug out from under both of them. Not only was Brenda fired a second time, the executive was dragged into the light with her. Embezzlement.

I heard one of the accountants murmur that the man had been skimming money long before Brenda strutted her way into his bed, but she was the thread that unraveled him.

Now they were both finished. Not just here—finished everywhere. He didn’t stop at cutting them loose—he blacklisted them. Brenda and her little savior couldn’t step foot in a serious company again, not in any corner of the world.

The thought lingered with me as Adrien’s car glided through the city. The soft hum of the engine, the leather against my cheek, the world outside slipping past in streaks of white and gold.

Adrien sat beside me, his profile carved sharp against the passing light. His hand found mine without ceremony, his thumb tracing idle, lazy strokes across the inside of my wrist. A quiet tether.

We slowed as the familiar gate of my father’s house came into view, the looming figure of home waiting with all its warmth. Adrien’s gaze swept over the property, sharp and assessing.

He’d insisted on driving me himself—because I’d been a little dizzy earlier. Stubborn as I was, I couldn’t find it in me to argue.