Benita’s eyes fluttered open to the dim light of the morning streaming through her curtains.
Her head pounded, and her body felt unusually heavy. She groaned, shifting slightly—then froze. Her legs were slouched over something warm and solid.
Turning her head slowly, she blinked in confusion as the image of Adrian lying next to her came into focus.
His dark hair was tousled, his face calm, and one arm was draped casually over his stomach.
Benita gasped, her heart racing. “What the—”
She scrambled off the bed with a shriek, almost tripping over the bedside rug in her haste. Adrian’s eyes snapped open at the sound.
“What’s going on?” he mumbled groggily, sitting up and rubbing his eyes.
“What are you doing in my bed?” Benita demanded, her voice shrill.
She backed against the wall, her hands pressed against her temples as she tried to piece together the hazy memories of last night.
Adrian yawned and stretched, completely unbothered by her panic. “Relax. Nothing happened.”
“How can you say that so casually?” she hissed. “I wake up, and you’re just… there! In my bed!”
Adrian raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a smirk. “You begged me not to leave, remember?”
Benita’s face turned crimson. “I-I did not!”
“You did,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “And for the record, I didn’t touch you. You were drunk, and I wasn’t about to take advantage of that.”
She crossed her arms, trying to look stern despite the heat creeping up her neck. “Well, you shouldn’t have stayed.”
Adrian chuckled softly, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. “Why are you mad at me? I should be the one upset here.”
Benita’s glare faltered. “Upset? What could you possibly be upset about?”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Adrian began, standing and meeting her gaze. “Maybe the fact that you threw me under the bus in that boardroom? You humiliated me in front of everyone.”
Benita’s defenses crumbled, and before she could stop herself, words came tumbling out. “I didn’t have a choice, okay? I’ve been working my ass off for a promotion that never comes! That was supposed to be my moment, Adrian. My chance to finally prove myself. And what did I get for it? Nothing! Not even a thank you!”
Her voice cracked, and she was breathing heavily by the time she finished. Adrian watched her with an unreadable expression, letting her vent without interruption.
“I’m so tired of it all,” she whispered, her shoulders slumping. “I’m just… tired.”
The room fell silent, save for her ragged breathing. She glanced up at him, her cheeks flushed from her outburst. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled.
Adrian’s lips twitched into a small smile. “Feel better now?”
Benita blinked, caught off guard. “What?”
“You’ve been bottling that up for a while, haven’t you?” he said, leaning casually against the bedpost. “Sometimes you just need to let it out.”
She stared at him, unsure of how to respond.
“Now,” he continued, clapping his hands together. “How about I make you breakfast?”
Benita blinked again, her mouth opening and closing like a fish. “What?”
“You heard me,” Adrian said, already heading toward the kitchen. “Stay right there. I’ll whip something up.”
“Wait—” she started, but he was already out the door.
She stood there for a moment, stunned. Adrian, of all people, was being kind to her. Why? It didn’t make sense.
Curiosity got the better of her, and she followed him into the kitchen. There he was, shirtless, standing at her stove and cracking eggs into a frying pan like he owned the place.
“You don’t have to do this,” she said, leaning against the doorframe.
Adrian glanced over his shoulder, a playful glint in his eyes. “I know. But I want to.”
Benita folded her arms, watching him skeptically. He hummed softly as he worked, completely at ease in her space. It was disarming, to say the least.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” she blurted out.
Adrian paused, turning to look at her. “Because I can tell you’re not as bad as you want me to think you are.”
Benita’s breath hitched, but before she could respond, the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it,” she said quickly, grateful for the distraction. She rushed to the door, still dressed in her pajamas, and yanked it open without thinking.
Her heart dropped. Standing on the other side of the door was someone she hadn’t seen in days—Kelvin, her ex-boyfriend.
“Benita,” he said with a slow, smug smile.
Her mouth went dry, and she felt her grip on the doorknob tighten.
“Kelvin,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “What are you doing here?”