Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 136: Mr. Walton Has Spoken

Clara’s voice was polite.

My heart punched against my ribs like it wanted to escape. Adrien didn’t flinch. His hand still remained firm on my back, his mouth still too close to mine, the heat of his breath brushing my cheek like nothing had happened. Like she hadn’t just walked in.

I started to shift, trying to slide off his lap—because what in God’s name was I doing still sitting there?

His arm didn’t budge.

"Adrien," I whispered, just under my breath.

"Don’t," he said quietly.

His eyes finally opened, heavy-lidded and calm—too calm—and met Clara’s.

"Miss Langford. Is there something you need?"

She blinked. "I was told to bring the mock-up files to your office."

He nodded once. "Leave them on the table."

I was frozen. Half-leaning away, my hands still on his shoulders, every nerve in my body on high alert.

Clara didn’t move.

Her eyes flicked from Adrien to me—specifically, to where his hand rested possessively at my waist, then lower, to my legs still draped across him like some illicit painting.

"Sweetheart," Adrien said to me, his voice softening a bit, his eyes never leaving Clara. "Give us a moment."

My blood ran cold. Sweetheart? My face flushed crimson, hotter than a summer blaze. It wasn’t a dismissal of Clara; it was a dismissal of me from the room, while simultaneously asserting his claim on me to Clara. The message was blindingly clear, delivered with the subtlety of a sledgehammer.

"Of course," I murmured, trying not to sound breathless or humiliated or like my brain was on fire.

His arm finally released me, but slowly, almost reluctantly, as if letting go of me was the last thing he wanted to do, even now. My legs felt like jelly, my movements stiff and jerky as I unfolded myself from his lap.

The silence that followed my retreat was thick, buzzing with unspoken words and raw tension. I felt Clara’s eyes on me, sharp and dissecting, but I didn’t dare look. I couldn’t.

Every instinct screamed at me to run, to disappear, to find the nearest hole and crawl into it.

As I stood, my blouse still rumpled from sitting on his lap, my hair a mess from his fingers, I could feel the heat radiating from my cheeks.

I just grabbed my tablet and walked past her with my gaze locked forward.

Every step was a new form of torture. I could feel Clara’s gaze on me, analytical and sharp. It wasn’t a look of shock or even smug satisfaction. It was something far more unnerving: confirmation. It was the cool, dispassionate look of a scientist who had just proven her theory. She had suspected, and now she knew.

I didn’t go back to my desk. I couldn’t. Instead, I diverted to the nearest ladies’ room, my heels clicking a frantic rhythm on the polished marble. I pushed open the door and leaned against it, my forehead pressed against the cool wood, my breath coming in ragged gasps.

What now?

ADRIEN’S POV

The door clicked shut behind Isabella.

I didn’t move. I didn’t look at Clara. I let the silence stretch, let her absorb it. The truth. The proof. Her timing had been inconvenient—but not unfortunate.

Let her see.

Clara stepped forward, slow and cautious, like she was walking barefoot over glass. She placed the mock-up folder on the my table with too much precision, her movements elegant and rehearsed. I saw the tremble only in her fingers. Not her face.

Her voice was soft.

"Is she the one you mentioned?"

I didn’t answer.

"She’s your personal assistant," Clara said.

Not a question. A declaration. Laced with disbelief.

I turned slowly to face her.

"That’s right."

"You’re cheating," she said, voice suddenly sharp—emotions catching up to her. "You told me you had a woman. Everyone know’s you have a girlfriend even though you didn’t show her face. But—"

"I’m not cheating."

"She’s—" Clara faltered, almost laughing. "Adrien. Tell me you’re joking. You are cheating on your woman with your assistant?"

I tilted my head, eyes narrowing. "That is my woman."

Silence dropped like glass shattering.

Her face froze. The careful elegance she wore like a second skin wavered. Her mouth opened, then closed. "What? Are you kidding me?"

"I’m not."

"You’re serious?"

"Yes." freewёbnoνel.com

A breath escaped her, too quick. Her eyes darted to the desk, the place Isabella had just stood.

"Adrien! She doesn’t belong in your world." Clara’s voice cracked on the edge of disbelief. "What good will she have for you if she’s your girlfriend? She doesn’t add any value to your image. What does she even add to your life?"

My voice was quiet now, low and deliberate.

"It’s Mr. Walton when we’re in the office."

She blinked.

Then I added, flatly: "And how is it your business what she adds to me?"

Clara’s lips parted, disbelief painting every inch of her. "Adrien, I know what your life requires. You can’t afford to be reckless."

My voice dropped, hard and unyielding.

"I love her. That’s all there is to it."

She flinched like I’d slapped her.

"No. No, Adrien. No. You can’t—" She took a step closer, eyes wide, voice trembling between disbelief and desperation. "You know I care for you. I’ve always been there. What would your mother say?"

"She knows."

"She—" Clara’s voice hitched. "And your father? You know what he’ll do. You know he won’t accept her."

"Then I’ll make him."

Clara took a shaky breath like the ground had just tilted beneath her. "She’s just... a phase. You’re upset, you’ve been under pressure—this thing with her isn’t real."

"It’s the realest thing I’ve ever had."

She stepped back like I was a stranger. "You’d throw everything away. For someone like her?"

"No," I said. "I’d protect everything that matters. And she does."

Slowly, she stepped back. Composed herself. Straightened her blazer. Lifted her chin.

And smiled.

"Fine," she said lightly. "If my friend says that is the woman he wants..."

A pause. Her eyes glittered. "Who am I to disagree with him?"

I didn’t respond.

"I’m sure you found something unique in her," Clara continued, voice honeyed and flawless now. "I’m... so happy for you, Adrien."

I said nothing. Just held her gaze.

She gave me one last smile—polite, pristine—and walked out of the office.

Click.

The door closed softly behind her.

This chapter is updat𝙚d by f(r)eew𝒆bn(o)vel.com