Heart of Stone - Stone and Fire #1 [17+] (REWRITING)

Chapter 34

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Adriana's POV

He didn't say it back.

Was it because I'd slapped a hand over my mouth right after, or because I was a fucking idiot?

Once again, it was both.

I clutched a bottle of black polish as I sat stiffly in the passenger seat. We were going to the car showroom- some German multimillionaire CEO who lived an hour away. But I didn't feel like sitting in a car with my unspoken -now spoken- feelings while he pitied my dumbass.

I wasn't ashamed, exactly. More like confused. What had I expected? For him to turn around and drop those same words like he was waiting for me to say it first? It wasn't like that with Nikolas. It would never be that simple.

It wasn't awkward.. more like strained. Like he had shit to get off his chest but was worried I'd explode because of it. 

Out of the corner of my eye, I watched as he navigated the streets, his hands tight on the wheel, jaw clenched. It was the silence that made me itch. The way his mouth had hardened the second those words came out of mine. I didn't know what he was thinking, and it was driving me insane.

I never was one for self-criticism, but maybe I had stepped to far. Was I interpreting it wrong? Because surely the looks he gave me in that dressing room were not all the effect of lust. There was something deeper mixed in, something raw and unbridled.

His phone rang, breaking through the thick silence. He answered immediately, his tone sharp, professional, even though Mikhail's voice hummed over the line.

"Fuck... no, now's fine," Nikolas said, his voice like granite as he listened. His brows furrowed, and that icy look returned.

I felt the heat of his gaze burn me as I examined the black polish. 

"Everything okay?" I asked, but the question was more for show. Of course, it wasn't.

"Mikhail called a meeting for all the guards," he said flatly. "I'll take you home first."

"Okay," I muttered, putting the nail polish back down. I didn't know if I was disappointed or relieved. His voice was normal, calm, like nothing had happened back in that dressing room. Like I hadn't just dropped a bomb between us.

The drive back was quiet, tense. I wanted to ask him about it. Wanted to clear the thick, stumped air. But every time I opened my mouth to speak, something held me back. Maybe he wasn't ready. 

Maybe you're not ready to hear what he has to say.

When we reached the house, he parked the car and turned to me, his eyes studying my face. I didn't like that look—it was too calculating, too guarded.

"I'm leaving Lev and Vik with you," he said, his tone all business again. 

I nodded, not sparing a look behind me. 

"Hey."

I paused, turning around. 

"The car. I'll get it for you tomorrow."

The car? You think I care about a fucking car?

My nails suddenly felt like clawing someone's eyes out. My own, preferably.

His eyes burned my back until I shut the front door.

Each step up the stairs was like lugging to water jugs atop my shoulders, each one threatening to spill over if I didn't fucking get it together.