Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 112: Princess Treatment: Interrupted

The forced relaxation was driving me insane.

The quiet hum of the refrigerator was suddenly the loudest sound in the apartment.

I’d spent the entire day alternating between staring at the ceiling and trying to convince Adrien that I was perfectly capable of working. He wasn’t buying it. Not one bit.

"Just... twenty minutes! I just need to check on that proposal," I’d pleaded earlier, only to be met with his signature stern look. He hadn’t even had to say anything. He just raised one eyebrow, and I deflated.

Now, the evening sun cast long shadows across the living room.

Adrien was still here.

Not just here—he’d practically annexed the living room, one arm stretched across the back of the couch like he owned the place, laptop in hand, eyes scanning stock charts like he wasn’t the same man who spoon-fed me strawberries twelve hours ago.

I hobbled in quietly, half limping, half sneaking. I knew he heard me—he always did—but he didn’t move.

He just said, without looking, "You’re supposed to be lying down."

"I’m not lifting anything," I said defensively.

"I can hear your ankle disapproving from here."

I rolled my eyes, but a smile tugged at my lips anyway. "I just came to get my tablet."

"Which weighs, what, four ounces? Still. Reckless."

"I’m going to start hiding things from you."

He finally looked up, that slow, aggravatingly amused smile spreading across his face. "You’re welcome to try, princess. But I’ve already memorized where everything is."

"You’re awfully comfortable for a man who doesn’t live here," I muttered.

"I’m on-site," he replied without looking up. "Per your boss."

"You’re my boss."

"And what a thoughtful one he is."

I glared. "When are you leaving?"

"When someone else gets back."

My brow rose. "That’s... vague."

"I’m staying until Leo or your father or literally anyone with a valid family ID walks through that door. Until then, I’m your personal assistant’s assistant."

"That’s not a thing."

"It is now."

I scoffed and sat down on the very edge of the armchair furthest from him, like a teenager trying to assert independence from their parents. He watched me, a silent predator observing its prey, and I resolutely ignored him.

My tablet, the innocent-looking device that held the key to my sanity ──and a healthy dose of work emails── sat beautifully on the coffee table. I feigned a stretch, rolling my shoulders to loosen the tension that had settled there.

The stretch was a lie, of course. I was stretching for the tablet. I tested the waters coughs, a little louder than necessary. No reaction. Good.

I slowly eased myself off the couch, wincing dramatically. "Oh, my poor, injured self," I muttered under my breath, hoping to sell the act if he happened to glance my way.

Taking a deep breath, I crept towards the coffee table. Just a few more steps... My fingers brushed against the cool metal of the tablet.

I had almost made it, when a voice broke the quiet, melodic like honey dripping from a spoon. "I wouldn’t do that," Adrien said without looking up.

"I’m not doing anything," I shot back.

Suddenly, the laptop snapped shut. The sound, though not particularly loud, echoed in the quiet room like a gunshot.

"Really?" Adrien’s voice was dangerously soft. "You’re terrible at this, you know."

"Terrible at what?" I feigned innocence, though my heart raced. I could feel his gaze on me like a spotlight, illuminating every inch I wanted to hide.

"Lying to me," he replied simply, and the teasing lilt in his voice made me want to throw the tablet at him.

"Okay, fine!" I surrendered, dropping the act. "I just really want to check my emails. I’m going insane just sitting around. Can’t you understand that?"

He paused and he rubbed his hands on his chin.

"I get it," he finally said, breaking the tension like a bubble. "But you’re still recovering. That ankle of yours needs some TLC, not work stress."

"And yet," I countered, "I can’t keep myself sane without at least a little bit of work. Just twenty minutes!"

I didn’t even notice when he came closer to me. Not until he was right there, standing in front of me, one brow raised and a knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He plucked the tablet from my hand.

"Adrien," I warned.

He bent slightly, holding it just out of reach. "You have two options, love."

"Oh, here we go."

"One: you go lie down like a good girl, and I’ll let you have the tablet while I supervise."

My eyes narrowed. "Supervise? Like a toddler?"

He smirked. "Only difference is toddlers don’t try to seduce their babysitters."

I almost choked on air.

He leaned in, voice low. "Option two?"

I crossed my arms. "Dare I ask?"

"You come get it from me."

I blinked. "Seriously?"

"Mm-hmm."

"That’s your plan? What are we, twelve?"

He shrugged. "Twelve-year-olds don’t look at me the way you’re looking at me right now."

I opened my mouth, closed it, opened it again, then groaned and lunged for the tablet.

In hindsight, it was a terrible idea.

My foot slipped. Or maybe I overcorrected. Or maybe Adrien didn’t move back fast enough — I don’t know. What I do know is that I crashed into him, tablet forgotten, hands clutching his shirt, and the next second we both tumbled to the floor.

He twisted, somehow wrapping himself around me, cushioning the fall. The impact forced the breath from my lungs, a startled gasp.

"Ow—Adrien!"

"You tackled me!"

"You trapped me!"

Our faces were inches apart.

His arms were around me. My thigh was across his lap. His breath, warm and faintly minty, brushed my cheek as we both caught our breath. The moment stilled. His eyes found mine and held them.

My pulse drummed like a warning.

"I wasn’t kidding, you know," he said softly.

I blinked. "About what?"

He tilted his head just slightly, eyes darkening. "Being seduced."

As the realization of his words hit me, I could feel my cheeks burning. His gaze was intense, and I couldn’t look away. The atmosphere in the room shifted, becoming charged with an electricity that seemed to crackle between us. frёewebηovel.cѳm

"Adrien..." I began, my voice barely a whisper. "I..."

Before I could finish my sentence, he leaned in slowly, my eyelids fluttered shut in anticipation. The brush of his lips against mine was feather-light, a tentative invitation. I met him halfway, deepening the kiss, letting my own desires take over.

His arms tightened around me, pulling me closer.

The kiss deepened, became more urgent, more demanding. It was a silent conversation, a wordless promise of more to come. His hands moved down my back, tracing the curve of my spine, sending shivers of pleasure rippling through me.

He rolled us over, so that I was lying beneath him, his weight pleasantly grounding me. His eyes were dark with desire, his breath warm against my skin.

Then—

"Isabella."

We both froze.

My father’s voice.

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