Chapter 153: Oh Where, Oh Where, Is He…?

ORION’S POV

The leather seat beneath me feels rich and cool, but my posture is far from relaxed as the city glides past the tinted windows in a muted blur of people, buildings, and passing vehicles.

I am sitting in the back of my car, being driven by my driver, on my way back to my house.

I didn’t want to spend a lot of time outside today. From the very moment I saw that disgraceful news broadcast about Adrien— from the second those dirty, stolen photographs from his past flickered across the display— my mind began constructing counter-offensives.

I mapped out media blackouts, corporate buyouts, legal threats, and quiet eliminations. Especially those quiet eliminations. But I handed most of those plans straight over to Niko to handle.

I cannot afford to leave Adrien for too long on his own.

If there is anything I have learned over those past seven years, it is that when I leave Adrien alone for too long, I never meet the same person I left behind.

Or worse, I never see him again at all.

Isn’t that exactly how he ran from me the first time?

So here I am in the back seat, simply counting down the agonizing seconds until I see him again. I am filled with a wondrous, dizzying sense of expectation.

Yes, I am always eager and excited to see my duckling, but right now, a sharp wire of nervousness runs right alongside my excitement. I truly do not know what to expect.

I have married him. We have shared a bed. We have had sex. I have tied him down in every physical, emotional, and legal way I could devise.

I have let him know my stance again and again, showing him what I want, what I demand, and what I can do for him.

But I still do not know if Adrien will choose me. I do not know who I am going to see when I step through those massive front doors.

Will it be the Adrien I wish to see? The one who might welcome me with an insult, a sharp word, or perhaps even lean into my embrace to steal my warmth?

Or will it be an Adrien who looks at me like I am just another handler, expecting something worse to drop from the sky?

Will he be broken by the news, or will he retreat behind those icy walls he builds around his heart? I truly do not know.

And in a strange, intoxicating way, that is the delicious part of this whole feeling.

It is the thrilling, unpredictable feeling of not knowing. The uncertainty of him is the only thing in this world that can make my heart hammer against my ribs.

As I sit here, amusing myself with these sweet thoughts while watching the familiar buildings drive past, my phone vibrates in my palm.

I glance down at the screen.

It is Adrien.

I pick up on the very first ring. I will never let my duckling wait on me for a single second.

"Get your ass back home when you’re done fucking around," his voice comes out sharp and demanding through the speaker. "We’re going out."

He cuts the call immediately after commanding me, leaving only the dull click of a dead line.

Something deep inside my chest blooms, expanding like a vibrant, heat-seeking flower seeing sunlight for the first time in an eternity.

Even with the phone silent against my ear, my smile stretches so wide it feels like a miracle the skin on my face has not split open to accommodate the sheer size of it.

I almost kick my legs together and snap my hands in pure, frantic, childlike happiness right there in the back seat.

Instead, I lean forward and tap the driver’s shoulder firmly. "Stop the car."

The man pulls over to the curb immediately, stepping on the brakes with a soft squeal, looking back through the rearview mirror with wide, wondering eyes as if asking if something went horribly wrong.

"Out," I tell him, stepping out into the cool air before the vehicle has even fully settled.

I walk around to the front with long, hurried strides, pull open the driver’s side door, and reach in to drag the man right out onto the pavement.

I do not give him time to speak. I reach into my breast pocket, pull out a massive, thick wad of cash, and drop it into his open palm before he can even gather his scattered thoughts.

"Take a cab," I say, diving into the driver’s seat and slamming the door shut.

I drive like a complete, unhinged madman.

I press the accelerator flat against the floorboards, breaking so many traffic rules, running through red lights, and shattering speed limits so recklessly that it is a genuine wonder how I am even still alive.

All I can think about is Adrien. I am so dizzy with anticipation that my head is running impossibly hot, a bright, scalding heat flooding my veins.

My brain doesn’t even have time to itch or second-guess itself. I am not calculating chess moves or elimination strategies anymore.

I am just driving, pushing the engine to its absolute limit, feeling the roar of the car vibrate through my hands on the steering wheel.

If not for my custom license plate clearly showing my name, Orion, and every law enforcement officer in this city knowing exactly what that name implies— knowing that pulling me over means ending their own careers— I would have been chased down and cornered by a hundred police cruisers before reaching my neighborhood.

On a sudden, unpredictable impulse, I make a violent, tire-screeching swerve toward the curb and slam on the brakes outside an elite, high-end flower shop.

I burst through the glass doors like a storm, look around the fragrant room, and point straight to the largest, most vibrant, chaotic arrangement of flowers in the shop.

I hand over my card without looking at the total, snatch the monstrous bouquet of flowers, and march back out ten seconds later.

I do not know the hidden language of flowers. I do not know what yellow roses mean compared to red carnations or lilies, though right now I wish I had taken the tedious time to learn floral symbolism.

I just hope the sheer vibrancy, the lush colors, and the wild, uncontained mess of the petals will show Adrien exactly what I feel for him, and exactly how I see him— radiant, alive, and utterly unmanageable.

I lay the large bouquet gently on the leather back seat, adjusting the stem so it won’t tip over, hop back behind the wheel, and continue driving like a fanatic.

A few streets down, as the engine whines on the straightaway, I pull another sharp, violent turn outside a luxury artisanal chocolate boutique.

I run in, sweeping my arm across the counter to buy several large packs of chocolates— enough to fill an entire dining table— and carry them back out in a single breath.

I lay them gently right beside the flowers on the rear seat before tearing off down the highway once more.

At this point, my pupils are blown completely wide. The dark in my eyes has swallowed the color whole. I am so ridiculously, insanely happy that it defies all logic.

I just want to get home. I want to see my duckling.

Even though I need to hurry back, even though he told me to get my ass back home when I am done playing around, I am going to him right now.

I am not even remotely mad that he called the protective steps I am taking for his sake playing around.

He can insult my work, he can mock my power, he can dismiss my empire as a playground. All I care about in this mortal world is getting my ass back home to him.

I drive through the gated residential streets with zero restraint. The guards stationed at the entrance of my estate barely have time to press the electronic release button before my car roars through the opening, spraying loose gravel across the pristine manicured grounds.

I park the car with a sharp screech of rubber, kill the engine, and lean toward the side window to catch my breath and straighten my clothes.

I examine my reflection in the dark, tinted glass, smoothing down my hair and attempting to ensure I look presentable, trying to force my blown pupils to contract so I don’t look entirely unstable.

But looking at my eyes in the glass only makes me remember all those times in our youth, and all those times since he returned, that Adrien used to glare at me with pure venom.

I remember him calling my gaze dead, calling me a hollow vessel, calling me a soulless fucker.

A quiet, delighted, bubbling laugh escapes my lips, echoing softly in the enclosed space of the car.

I reach into the back seat, gather the massive, overflowing bouquet of flowers in my left arm and stack the heavy boxes of chocolates in my right, and march up the grand marble steps to the front door.

A maid pulls the heavy oak door open before I even stretch my hand out to touch the brass handle. She bows low to me, stepping back into the foyer, but as she lowers her eyes, I can almost sense her subtle, hidden excitement.

She is practically vibrating with it, her posture holding a quiet, knowing energy.

Now, I am overly excited. My heart hammers against my sternum like a sledgehammer. I wonder what exactly Adrien has done while I was gone.

What on earth has that brilliant, chaotic head planned in my absence?