The Billionaire's Two-Faced Escort Wife-Chapter 105: Rekindled Hearts

Adrian sat on the hardwood floor, the discarded carton of noodles sat heavy and forgotten in his lap. The cardboard was damp with condensation, much like the cold sweat currently coating his palms.

​Alexander Devereux. Next door. Married.

​The irony was a jagged blade twisted in his gut. For months, Adrian had convinced himself that the silence from New York was Alexander’s final, cold agreement to their divorce. He had mourned the man like he’d buried him. And now, Alexander had resurfaced not as a tycoon, but as a "sweet husband" to a bubbly woman who had no idea she was living with a wolf.

​"Adrian, come on. You’ve been staring at that empty box for twenty minutes." Jacob stood over him, already adjusting his shirt in the mirror. "Becky was so nice. It’s just dinner, man. We have to be neighborly, or it’ll be weird every time we hit the elevator." 𝒻𝘳ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝒷𝘯ℴ𝓋ℯ𝘭.𝑐ℴ𝑚

​"I’m not going," Adrian whispered, his voice sounding brittle even to his own ears. "I can’t... Jacob, did you see him? That’s him. That’s Alexander."

​Jacob paused, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face before he turned back to the mirror. "I know who he is, Adrian. But out here? He’s just ’Alex.’ If you stay in here, you’re still running. Go out there and show him you don’t care anymore. Show him you’re fine."

​Adrian’s jaw tightened. Fine. He wasn’t fine. He was a raw nerve, but Jacob was right—hiding was a confession of weakness.

​Ten minutes later, Adrian stood in the hallway, his hand hovering over the door of 6A. He felt like he was back in the gown, back in the pretense, but this time the stakes weren’t a company—they were his heart.

​Jacob knocked. The door swung open almost instantly.

​"You came!" Becky chirped, pulling them into a warm, candlelit apartment that smelled of expensive wine and roasted herbs. "Alex just finished the wine. Come in, sit!"

​The apartment was a mirror image of their own, yet it felt like a different universe. And there, standing by the kitchen island with a bottle of vintage red in his hand, was Alexander. He had traded his t-shirt for a charcoal-grey button-down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his powerful forearms.

​"Welcome," Alexander said. His voice was like a physical touch, low and resonant, vibrating through the small room. He didn’t look at Jacob. His blue eyes found Adrian’s, dark and unblinking, tracking the way Adrian’s pulse hammered in the hollow of his throat.

​"Alexander," Adrian said, the name tasting like ash.

​"Alex," Alexander corrected smoothly, pouring a glass and walking toward Adrian. He stopped just inches away, far too close for ’neighborly’ boundaries. He held the glass out, his fingers grazing Adrian’s as he handed it over.

​The heat of the contact sent a violent spark through Adrian’s body. He almost dropped the glass.

​"To new beginnings," Alexander murmured, his gaze dropping to Adrian’s lips for a fraction of a second—a silent, predatory reminder of every secret they shared.

​Dinner was an exercise in torture. Becky was a delight, chattering about their move and her job in interior design, completely oblivious to the electric current humming between the two men across the table.

​"Alex has been so supportive," Becky said, leaning her head on Alexander’s shoulder. "He gave up so much to move out here with me. Didn’t you, honey?"

​Alexander’s hand settled on Becky’s shoulder, but his eyes were fixed on Adrian, who was desperately trying to swallow a piece of bread that felt like a stone.

​"I didn’t give up anything that wasn’t already lost," Alexander said, his voice dropping an octave. "I came here to find something I misplaced. Something... indispensable."

​Adrian felt a surge of hot, frantic anger. He slammed his glass down a little too hard. "And did you find it, Alex? Or is it still out of your reach?"

​The table went silent. Becky blinked, her smile faltering. Jacob cleared his throat, looking at his plate.

​Alexander leaned forward, the candlelight dancing in his predatory eyes. The mask of the ’sweet husband’ slipped just enough for Adrian to see the tycoon—the man who would burn a country down to get what he wanted.

​"It’s right in front of me," Alexander whispered. "I’m just waiting for the right moment to reclaim it."

​"I think I need some air," Adrian choked out, standing up so fast his chair screeched.

​He didn’t wait for a response. He bolted for the balcony door, stepping out into the cool night air. His hands shook as he gripped the railing, the salt spray of the ocean doing nothing to cool the fire Alexander had reignited in his blood.

​The balcony door slid open behind him. He didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. The air changed, becoming heavy with the scent of sandalwood and pure, unadulterated power.

​"Get away from me," Adrian hissed, his back still turned. "Go back to your wife, Alexander. What the hell are you doing here?"

​"She isn’t my wife, Adrian," Alexander’s voice was right behind his ear, his chest nearly brushing Adrian’s back.

​Adrian spun around, trapped against the railing. "What?"

​"She’s my cousin’s widow. She needed a place to stay, and I needed a reason to be next door to you without the police being called," Alexander murmured, stepping into Adrian’s space, caging him with his arms on the railing. "I told you I’d wait. I told you I’d be here when you were ready to be seen."

​"I’m not ready!" Adrian gasped, his hands reaching out to push Alexander’s chest, but his fingers betrayed him, curling into the fabric of the shirt instead. "I hate you. I moved a thousand miles to get away from you."

​"You can move to the moon, Adrian. I’ll still be the man who knows the sound of your breath in the dark," Alexander growled. He leaned down, his forehead resting against Adrian’s. "Six months. Six months of watching you through windows, making sure you were safe, making sure you were eating. Do you have any idea how much I’ve missed you?"

​"You’re insane," Adrian whispered, his eyes fluttering shut as Alexander’s scent overwhelmed him.

​"I’m yours," Alexander corrected, his lips brushing against Adrian’s in a torturous, agonizingly slow tease. "Contract or no contract. Adrienne or Adrian. I don’t care about the roles anymore. I just want you."

​Alexander didn’t wait for an answer. He tilted Adrian’s head back and claimed his mouth with a hunger that spoke of six months of starvation. It was a kiss of fire and desperation, of secrets and salt, a silent promise that the "adventure" was far from over.

Adrian’s chest heaved as he shoved Alexander’s solid frame back. The kiss had been an explosion of everything he’d tried to bury, but the taste of it—the sheer, familiar intensity—scared him more than the silence ever had.

​"No," Adrian hissed, his voice a jagged whisper. "Don’t. I told you, Alexander. I’m not ready. I didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for a stalker disguised as a neighbor."

​Alexander stumbled back slightly, his expression fractured. The predatory confidence was gone, replaced by a raw, naked ache. "Adrian, I—"

​"I don’t want to be pursued!" Adrian cut him off, his eyes flashing with a mix of grief and fury. "I spent a year being what you wanted. I spent a year as a ghost. I just started to feel like a real person again. You can’t just slide into my life and expect me to fall into your arms because you bought the apartment next door."

​The glass door slid open further, and Becky’s head popped out, her expression clouded with concern. The warm glow of the apartment light spilled onto the balcony, making the shadows between the two men look even deeper.

​"Is everything alright out here?" Becky asked, her voice cautious. "I heard voices..."

​Adrian froze, his back to the railing, his heart hammering a frantic rhythm against his ribs. He couldn’t do this—he couldn’t play another game of charades in front of another woman.

​Alexander didn’t miss a beat. He straightened his shoulders, the mask of the ’supportive husband’ clicking back into place with terrifying efficiency, though his eyes remained fixed on Adrian for one last, lingering second.

​"It’s fine, Becky," Alexander said, his voice smooth and reassuring as he turned toward her. He offered her a small, tired smile that didn’t reach his eyes. "Just a bit of a disagreement over local politics. I think I might have come on a little too strong with my opinions. Right, Adrian?"

​Adrian swallowed the lump in his throat, his hands still trembling behind his back. "Right," he managed to say, his voice flat. "Just... a difference of opinion."

​Becky laughed, a sound of pure relief. "Oh, Alex! I told you not to bore our new friends with your ’debates’ on the first night. Come back inside, the dessert is getting cold."

​"In a minute, darling," Alexander replied.

​Becky nodded and disappeared back into the warmth of the kitchen. Alexander turned back to Adrian, the air between them turning cold again. He didn’t move toward him this time.

​"I won’t stop, Adrian," Alexander whispered, so low it was almost lost to the wind. "But I’ll give you your space. For now. But know this: I didn’t come here to play a role. I came here because I can’t breathe in a world where you aren’t within reach."

​Without another word, Alexander stepped back inside, leaving Adrian alone in the dark.

​Adrian leaned against the railing, his forehead resting on the cool metal. He looked at the lights of the town below, feeling the suffocating weight of the truth. Alexander was back. And no matter how many miles he ran or how many names he changed, the man who had bought his life was never going to truly let him go.