TORN BY ECSTASY BY Vail blackRose

Chapter14

Chapter 14

Adrian

Two days. Two. Fucking. Days. That's how long it took me to search for the right words, to find something that would mean something to her. Something that would break through her walls, make her stop throwing my damn notes in the trash like they meant nothing.

And what do I come up with?

"I am full of unsaid words."

What the hell does that even mean? What kind of fucking nonsense was that?

I had written it, though—like some lovesick idiot, as if it would make her understand, make her come closer to me. And what does she do? She throws it away. Just like everything else I try. I rub my temples, trying to push the growing frustration down. Why God, why? The line was practically a joke, mocking me for all my effort.

I leaned back in my chair, eyes fixed on the ceiling as I canceled yet another important meeting. This was getting ridiculous. I could be running empires, but here I am, reading Jane Austen.

I glanced at the book lying in front of me on my desk—Pride and Prejudice. I'd made it through twenty pages, barely, and every single word felt like a personal insult. My blood boiled with every passing sentence until I couldn't take it anymore.

With a growl, I grabbed the book and hurled it across the room, the hard cover skidding across the floor. Antonio, my bodyguard and head of my security, stood against the wall, his face completely blank, though his eyes betrayed his confusion. He had no idea what the hell was going on, and honestly, I didn't blame him. I didn't know what the fuck was happening either.

"No more books," I snapped, running my hands through my hair in frustration. "No. More. Fucking. Books. Why the hell doesn't she like Chanel purses or Bulgari perfume or Dior makeup? All the world at her feet, and she chooses books? These stupid words?"

I glared at the discarded book on the floor, as if it were responsible for all my problems. Antonio glanced nervously from me to the book, clearly trying to find something to say that wouldn't get him killed. "Boss," he finally ventured, his voice cautious, "why don't you ask Sophia? She reads books."

Sophia, my secretary, was sitting quietly at her desk, her nose buried in yet another novel. I hadn't even noticed her until Antonio pointed her out. A small spark of hope flickered in my mind. Sophia.

Of course. Sophia reads. Maybe she could tell me what the hell Zara finds so special about these pages. Maybe she could help me figure out how to reach Zara through this ridiculous obsession with words.

"Come here," I ordered, my voice still sharp but with a newfound determination.

Sophia hesitated, setting her book aside before walking over to me, her eyes cautiously curious. "Yes, sir?"

"I need you to write something," I said, leaning forward. "Something she would respond to. You translated her Urdu notes before, so you understand the way she thinks. The way she writes. I want you to help me find the right words to get through to her."

Sophia blinked, clearly surprised by the request, but she didn't question it. "You mean... Zara?"

"Of course I mean Zara." I leaned back in my chair, tapping my fingers impatiently against the desk. "Everything I've tried—these notes, these books—it all falls flat. I need something she'll actually read. Something that'll get under her skin the way she gets under mine."

Sophia's face softened, and I could see the understanding in her eyes. She knew exactly what I was asking for. "You want words that will mean something to her. Something personal."

"Yes," I growled, though not in anger. "She won't take material things. She throws away the notes. But you know how she writes. You've read her words. You know how to get through to her in a way I clearly can't."

Sophia glanced briefly at Antonio, then back to me. "I can try, sir. But it's not about what I think, it's about what she feels. Zara responds to sincerity—anything else will just push her further away."

"Then be sincere for me," I said, my voice growing calmer. "Write something in the way she would feel it. And make it something... meaningful."

Sophia paused for a moment, as if choosing her next words carefully. "I can do that. But, sir, I think you should also consider—Zara's walls are high for a reason. If you want to break through them, you need to be careful. She's not going to respond to grand gestures, especially not from someone who... well, who scares her."

I clenched my jaw. "I know." My voice came out harsher than I intended. I hated hearing that I scared her. But I knew it was true. "Just write the damn note. I'll figure out the rest."

Sophia nodded, turning back to her desk, clearly already thinking about what to write. As she walked away, I stared at the framed notes on the wall—Zara's words, in her delicate handwriting, translated by Sophia. They were pieces of her, fragments of her thoughts that I had held onto, hoping they would give me a way in.

Maybe Sophia was right. Maybe it wasn't about books or luxury gifts. Maybe it was about words—real words. Words that meant something to her.

I leaned back, feeling the tension slowly drain from my body. This time, I'd get it right. I had to. And if Sophia's words didn't work... I'd find another way.