Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 101: Everything, in the Smallest Ways

I don’t remember the drive back, not really.

Just the rhythm of the road beneath us, the soft hum of the engine, and Adrien’s hand resting on my lap as he rubs on it gently the whole way.

He didn’t say much—and neither did I. But it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was the kind of quiet that felt... earned.

When we reached the mansion, the night air clung to my skin like silk.

The lights inside were dimmed, golden and soft, casting warm shadows against the marble.

The puppy immediately began a chaotic exploration of the vast space, sniffing at the base of pillars and skittering across the polished floor, her tiny claws making a soft, rhythmic tap-tap-tap. It was a welcome burst of uncomplicated life in the hushed stillness of the house.

Thomas welcomed us and Adrien dismissed him.

He didn’t guide me to the guest room. He didn’t ask questions. He just opened the door to his bedroom like it was the most natural thing in the world, and I stepped in like it was mine, too.

I changed into one of his shirts— soft cotton that smelled faintly of him, a scent that felt instantly familiar and comforting. It hung loosely on me──it was a little too big.

He didn’t look away as I slipped into it. He didn’t peep too much either. Just watched, eyes soft and unreadable, like he was storing away the moment for safekeeping.

We lay in bed, facing each other, our hands brushing more than they held.

He said something about how I scrunch my nose when I think too hard. I laughed and called him a liar. He said he wasn’t. That he noticed everything.

We talked about stupid things. Favorite books. Embarrassing stories. He told me how Cameron once accidentally locked him in a wine cellar for four hours. I told him I used to pretend to be a lawyer in the mirror when I was ten.

He laughed. Really laughed.

It was the kind of laughter that settled into my chest like a secret.

At some point, my eyes grew heavy. He moved closer. His arm slipped around my waist and I didn’t pull away.

His grip was light, anchoring me without restricting. I could feel the steady beat of his heart against my back, the subtle rise and fall of his chest with each breath. The scent of him, already familiar from the shirt, was stronger and warmer.

There was no tension or pressure.

Just warmth.

Just peace.

Just... us.

****

I woke up to warmth — not just the kind that comes from expensive sheets or thick duvets, but something steadier, deeper. When I opened my eyes, Adrien was already awake.

And staring.

His head was propped lazily on one arm, the early light casting gold across his cheekbones, and that little smirk of his playing at the corner of his mouth.

"Good morning, girlfriend," he said.

I blinked at him, suddenly shy. "Good morning," I murmured back, my voice barely above a whisper.

Adrien’s smirk widened, and his eyes sparkled with mischief. "You know, you look incredibly adorable when you’re all sleepy like this," he teased, his gaze unwavering.

I felt heat rise to my cheeks, a blend of embarrassment and delight. "Adorable?" I echoed, trying to mask the fluttering sensation in my stomach. "Careful, or I might start to think you’re actually just making fun of me."

He chuckled softly, leaning closer, our noses almost touching. "Trust me, it’s the opposite. I’m quite fond of ’adorable.’"

Before I could think of a witty comeback, he brushed his thumb across my cheek, and my heart skipped. In that moment, the world outside faded—there was only the two of us in this cocoon of morning light.

"How did you sleep?" he asked, genuine curiosity lacing his tone.

I smiled, recalling the ease of falling asleep in the warmth of his embrace. "Like a rock. I didn’t dream at all."

He nodded, looking contemplative. "That’s good. I think it’s important to rest when you really start to feel safe."

Then I checked the time.

And sat bolt upright. "Oh my God. It’s eight. Eight a.m., Adrien. Why didn’t you wake me?"

He just laughed — deep, unbothered. "I’m your boss. Technically, the day doesn’t start until I say it does."

I stared at him, torn between rolling my eyes and laughing. "Right, technically," I said, pushing a stray strand of hair from my face. "But you also pay me to be punctual, and efficient, and not... well, not sleeping in your bed past eight on a weekday."

He grinned, reaching out to tuck the hair behind my ear, his fingers grazing my temple. "True," he conceded, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through me. "But you also had a rather eventful day yesterday. And night."

"Mandatory, huh?"

I started to swing my legs off the bed, but he caught my wrist, gently tugging me back down.

"I cooked," he said simply, like that explained everything. "Sit. Eat."

Sure enough, a tray sat nearby — eggs, toast, fresh fruit.

He didn’t let me lift a finger.

He fed me himself, casual and intimate, brushing crumbs from my lip like it was the most normal thing in the world. And somehow... it was.

When I was done, he rose, brushed a kiss to my forehead, and said, "Go shower. I’ll handle the rest."

That should have worried me.

It didn’t.

ADRIEN’S POV

The bedroom is finally quiet, save for the muffled rush of water.That’s my cue.

I cross to the bed – the sheet still dented where she’d laughed herself breathless ten minutes ago – and survey the spread a last time.

Five outfits, five pairs of shoes, five carrier‑bags that double as purses. All neutral, all elegant, all "safe" enough that no board‑member or anyone can be suspicious about.

And yet my pulse is a hammer.

What if she thinks it’s too much?

What if the clothes feel like a cage, not a kindness?

I have negotiated acquisitions larger than most countries’ GDP with steadier hands than the ones currently straightening a silk blouse. The irony is not lost on me.

I took a deep breathe. Focus, Walton.

Step one: move the blouse one millimeter left.

Step two: Shoes angled twelve degrees – details matter.

Step three: Collar tag on Ivy—what we named her before bed— already had her new harness facing outward: In case of emergency, return to Isabella.

A tiny thunk at the window – pigeon on the sill – jolts me. For a ridiculous heartbeat I imagine it’s her, changed her mind, slipping out the back door before I can hand over all this... affection masquerading as efficiency.

Ridiculous. The shower’s still running. She’s here.

The tap turns off.

I step back, fold my arms, mask sliding into place by pure reflex. A boyfriend waiting to present options. Not a man who spent the last ten minutes worrying she might bolt.

ISABELLA’S POV

When I came back out — skin warm, hair damp — I stopped short.

Spread out on the bed were different outfits. Not just one or two, but several options, each one looking more polished and expensive than anything I owned.

Beside the bed, the shoes weren’t just options; they were solutions. Pointed-toe pumps, block heels, polished loafers, even some smart but comfortable-looking flats.

But it was the handbags and their occupants that truly stole my breath.

A structured tote bag, a classic shoulder bag, a tasteful clutch – and nestled inside each one, like precious cargo, sat a specially designed luxury pet carrier.

They were beautiful, discreet, and clearly meant to look like part of the overall ensemble, not an afterthought.

Some were woven, some were leather, some had mesh panels cleverly hidden by design – but they were unmistakably carriers, sized perfectly for a small puppy.

My jaw dropped.

Adrien was leaning against the doorframe of his walk-in closet, a faint, knowing smile on his face as he watched my reaction.

He was already dressed in a crisp shirt and tailored trousers, looking every bit the powerful executive, yet there was a softness around his eyes that hadn’t been there before.

"Adrien?" I managed, my voice a little breathy. "What is... all this?"

He pushed off the doorframe and walked towards the bed, casually gesturing at the display. "You need options," he said, stating it like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "And the puppy can’t stay here alone all day. She needs to be with you─only if you plan on coming back here after work."

He picked up a shimmering grey tote, revealing the padded interior of the carrier nestled within. "These are practical," he added, as if explaining why one might own three different umbrellas, not designer outfits matched with coordinating pet transport. "You can’t just carry her around in your arms all the time. And you likely don’t have... suitable things for bringing her to meetings, or out."

I walked closer to the bed, tentatively touching the smooth fabric of one of the outfit. It felt incredibly soft. "Adrien... this is... I mean, where did this even come from? When did you...?"

He shrugged, that familiar, irritatingly charming smirk playing on his lips again. "Last night, while you were sleeping. A few calls were made. Deliveries arrived early this morning." He paused, his gaze softening as he looked at me. "You don’t have to wear them all at once, of course. Just... pick whichever you like. I’ve got the car warming up." freёwebnoѵel.com

I glanced at the outfits, then at him, then back again — and I couldn’t help it. I laughed.

This was my life now.

"Girlfriend to Adrien Walton. CEO. Tyrant. Lunatic. Softest man alive.

This chapt𝙚r is updated by fr(e)ew𝒆bnov(e)l.com