Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 114: Worth the Wait

The office buzzed with low, focused energy when I returned. The kind that meant something big was brewing — or, in this case, being wrapped up.

A new sticky note was already waiting on my desk in Adrien’s sharp handwriting:

"Welcome back. Don’t limp."

Classic.

By 7:53, I’d cleared twenty-two emails, updated the shared files, and rescheduled a vendor delivery without dropping a single expletive. Progress.

The buzz in the office was unmistakable. The Johnson Proposal — the billion-dollar mall that had consumed our lives for months — was finally entering its last phase. Construction was done.

But perfection? That was still under construction.

My inbox was a small disaster, but the last email I opened said it all:

Subject: Johnson Proposal — Final Phase Checklist

The construction was complete.

Every meeting I walked into that week had one thing in common: the words "final presentation" circled on the agenda. Adrien had already started looping in the core team for the upcoming grand opening. Vendor confirmation lists. PR schedules. Client-facing decks. All of it now fell into the "you’d better triple-check this" category.

Adrien was in full CEO mode—calm, cutting, and more demanding than ever. Updates were required by the hour. Every department lead walked on eggshells. There was no room for delays.

I threw myself into post-construction logistics: compiling reports, reviewing vendor checklists, verifying the interior work timelines. Art installations, planters, custom signage—it all had to come together, flawlessly, in a matter of days.

Midweek, a board meeting was called. Not for planning—this one was for readiness. Adrien wanted every department to pitch their progress like it was the final client presentation. There was tension in the air, tight and humming.

That afternoon, Adrien handed me a folder. "You’ll handle the vendor deliveries for final interior staging. Keep it clean. Keep it quiet. I want zero calls from George."

A test. One I fully intended to ace.

*****

I knocked once, then stepped into his office without waiting. Adrien barely looked up from his monitor.

"Bold entrance, my love" he said.

"I have news," I replied, crossing to his desk. "The Johnsons want a private walkthrough."

Now he looked up. One eyebrow arched. "Really."

I handed him the email printout, even though I’d already forwarded it three different ways. He read it anyway, lips tugging slightly at the corners.

’Before the grand opening. I’d prefer to preview the mall without the crowd. Just you and whoever managed the staging.’

Adrien leaned back in his chair. "That would be you, Miss Miller."

My pulse ticked once at the way he said it.

"They want it scheduled by Friday," I said, trying not to fidget. "Friday afternoon, ideally."

"Fine." He set the printout aside but didn’t look away. "You’ll ride with me."

"Okay."

Silence stretched between us. He wasn’t pretending to check his screen anymore. Just watching me.

"That’s all I came to say," I offered, shifting my weight.

"Is it?"

My throat went dry. "I—yes."

Adrien stood, slow and deliberate, rounding the desk with calm purpose. "You always say yes when your eyes are saying something else."

I swallowed. "What are they saying?"

"That you missed me." He stopped in front of me, close enough that I could feel the heat rolling off him.

He reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

"I did miss you," he said, more quietly this time. "You’ve been back a week and I’ve had to pretend I wasn’t thinking about you every time you walked past my door."

"Adrien..."

"I’m impressed," he went on, voice low and steady. "You came back in full command. Efficient. Calm. Focused. Smiling at everyone but me. But I know what it costs you. And I want to ruin it."

"You told me to focus."

"I lied."

"Adrien─"

"You know you can tell me to back away," he murmured. "And I will."

I didn’t.

He pressed a hand to the small of my back, pulling me in with zero resistance. My fingers curled into the front of his shirt, and when his mouth found mine, I opened for him instantly.

The kiss started slow, like a warning. But it escalated quickly—months of tension poured into the way he devoured me. His hands were already moving, slipping under the hem of my blouse, palms searing against bare skin.

I gasped into his mouth. "The door—"

"Locked it," he said against my throat.

"God, you—"

"Not God," he growled, voice thick. "Just yours." fɾeeweɓnѳveɭ.com

My heart hammered against my ribs, trying to beat its way out of my chest. Adrien’s hands, warm and possessive, slid higher, tracing the curve of my waist. He deepened the kiss, pulling me flush against him until there wasn’t an inch of space between us.

Every rational thought I possessed fled, replaced by the dizzying rush of him.

"You drive me crazy," he murmured, his voice rough with desire, his teeth grazing my skin. "Coming in here, looking like you haven’t slept, managing everything like you were born to run this place..."

My fingers tightened in his shirt, the expensive fabric bunched in my fist. "Says the man who just spent a week holding my hand and feeding me soup."

He lifted his head, his eyes dark and blazing, a smirk playing on his lips. "Among other things."

He lifted me onto the edge of his desk like it was nothing. Paperwork scattered across the floor behind me—I didn’t care.

He kissed my jaw, my throat, each press of his mouth making my knees weaker. My blouse hit the floor. His hands unzipped my skirt and shoved it down my hips. His mouth found the dip between my breasts, kissing a line straight down to my navel, then lower.

"I’ve thought about this too many damn times," he said, kneeling between my legs now, dragging my underwear down slowly—like he wanted me begging. "I couldn’t focus all week knowing I couldn’t touch you."

"Then touch me."

Two words—and he shattered.

He hooked my thighs over his shoulders and pulled me forward until my hips were right at the edge of the desk.

His tongue found me, and I arched off the desk with a gasp. Adrien’s hands gripped my hips, holding me in place as he devoured me with a fierce intensity that made my head spin. I clutched at the edge of the desk.

"Adrien," I breathed, my voice barely more than a whisper.

He looked up at me, his eyes burning with desire, and I could see the control he was exerting over himself.

"Say it again," he said against my skin.

"Adrien—"

His tongue swiped through my folds, and I bucked into him with a choked cry. One hand came up to press firmly on my abdomen, holding me still. The other slid up my inner thigh, finding my slick entrance and thrusting two long fingers knuckle-deep in one smooth push.

I cried out, my back arching off the desk as he began to move his fingers in and out of me, his tongue circling my clit in a maddening rhythm. The pleasure was overwhelming, and I could feel myself spiraling closer to the edge with each thrust of his fingers and flick of his tongue.

Adrien looked up at me, his eyes locked onto mine as he continued his relentless assault on my senses. I could see the hunger in his gaze, the raw desire that mirrored my own.

As the tension built within me, I reached down and threaded my fingers through his hair, urging him on. He growled against my skin, the vibrations sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through me. I was so close, so impossibly close, and I knew it wouldn’t take much more to send me over the edge.

With one final thrust of his fingers, I shattered. My body convulsed around him. Adrien didn’t relent, continuing to work his magic until I begged him to stop, my body spent and trembling from the intensity of my release.

He slowly withdrew his fingers and rose to his feet, his eyes still smoldering with desire as he licks his fingers clean. I could feel the wetness between my thighs—undeniable, impossible to ignore

"You taste so incredible," he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. He stood before me, his chest heaving slightly, eyes still dark with the aftermath of my climax. "I could stay here all day, tasting you. And still want more"

I was a mess. My skirt was around my ankles, my blouse on the floor. My thighs were still trembling, slick and heavy from his attentions. Clinging to the edge of his desk, I could only stare at him, breathless and undone.

"Adrien," I managed again, but this time it was a sigh, a question, a bewildered plea. What was happening?

He reached out and gently traced the line of my jaw with his thumb. "Worth every single damn moment I waited," he murmured, his eyes scanning my face as if memorizing every detail of my disarray.

He didn’t seem in a hurry to continue, just savoring the moment, the tangible proof of my reaction to him. The power he held over me, and the undeniable pull I had on him.

"Someone could walk in," I finally whispered, the practical part of my brain trying to reassert itself through the haze of physical sensation.

"They won’t," he said with absolute certainty, glancing towards the locked door. "I’ve told everyone I’m in a crucial strategy meeting. And I wasn’t exaggerating." When did he do that? Is that why he pretended not to open the email I sent to him?

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my lips, lingering just long enough to make me want more before pulling back. "You are my crucial strategy."

He knelt again, this time to pull my skirt the rest of the way off and toss it onto the growing pile of discarded clothing. He did the same with my underwear, then stood, taking me in again, naked from the waist down, straddling the edge of his desk.

"Beautiful," he said, his voice thick with emotion I rarely heard from him. "Even when you’re collapsing from exhaustion and stress."

He reached between my legs, not with fingers this time, but with the blunt, hard proof of his own erection straining against the fabric of his trousers. He rubbed against me, a slow, deliberate friction that made another shiver run through me.

"I need to be inside you," he said, the low growl echoing the hunger in his eyes. "Now."

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