Adrian and Amelia's trip to the coastal city of Monterey was supposed to be smooth and straightforward. Amelia had meticulously planned every detail: the flights, the meetings, and of course, the accommodation. She had reserved a VIP suite at the prestigious Grand Shoreline Hotel—Adrian's usual standard of comfort.
But when they arrived late in the evening, exhausted from back-to-back meetings and a delayed flight, the receptionist delivered a blow that sent Adrian's infamous temper flaring.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Blackwood," the receptionist said nervously. "There's been a mistake with the reservation system. We only have one standard room available."
Adrian's eyes narrowed dangerously. "One standard room?" His voice was sharp enough to slice through the air.
"Yes, sir," the receptionist stammered. "We sincerely apologize, but the VIP suite you requested was double-booked, and this is the only room we can offer tonight."
Adrian ran a hand through his hair, visibly trying to reign in his frustration. "Do you know who I am? I don't stay in standard rooms."
"Sir, we're completely booked. This is all we have left."
Adrian turned to Amelia, his icy glare making her stomach twist. "You booked this, didn't you? How could you mess up something this simple?"
Amelia met his anger with calm professionalism. "I made the reservation for the VIP suite. This is their mistake, not mine."
But her explanation didn't satisfy him. Adrian spun back to the receptionist. "Unacceptable! This is the Grand Shoreline, not some roadside motel. Fix this, or I'll make sure your manager knows exactly how incompetent you are."
The staff, flustered and apologetic, tried to appease him, but there was no solution. A line of weary guests waiting behind them began to murmur, and someone discreetly recorded the scene on their phone.
Adrian eventually relented, though his fury was far from abated. "Fine. I'll take the room," he snapped. "Amelia, find yourself another hotel."
Amelia blinked, caught off guard. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," Adrian said, his tone sharp. "I'm not sharing a room, and I'm certainly not sleeping in something this cramped."
Amelia's lips thinned into a line, but she said nothing. She turned on her heel, leaving the hotel to search for a room elsewhere.
After several fruitless phone calls, she finally found a vacancy at a modest inn a few blocks away. Exhausted, she checked in and sent Adrian a curt text to inform him of her location.
The next morning, Amelia was greeted by a slew of texts from her colleagues. A short video of Adrian's outburst at the hotel had been posted online, and it was quickly gaining traction. The caption read: "CEO Adrian Blackwood humiliates hotel staff—how the wealthy treat the working class."
Amelia's heart sank. She knew this was going to be a PR nightmare for the company. Adrian's celebrity lifestyle made him a frequent target for gossip, but this time, his behavior had crossed a line.
When she arrived at the conference room for their meeting, Adrian was already there, scrolling through his phone with a dark expression.
"So, I'm the villain of the internet now," he said dryly, without looking up.
"It's not great for the company's image," Amelia said carefully.
Adrian's eyes snapped to hers. "Don't start."
Amelia raised her hands in mock surrender. "I'm just saying, maybe it's time to reflect on how you treat people."
He glared at her but said nothing. For the first time, she noticed a flicker of something in his eyes—guilt, maybe?
Despite the tension, their business meeting went well, and the deal was nearly closed. But as they were leaving the client's office, Adrian's phone buzzed with an urgent message from Lila, his younger sister.
"Adrian, call me. It's important."
The message left him visibly shaken. He excused himself and stepped outside to make the call, leaving Amelia waiting in the lobby.
When he returned, his expression was unreadable, his usual confidence replaced by a strange vulnerability.
"What happened?" Amelia asked hesitantly.
"Lila," he said, his voice unusually quiet. "She's in the hospital."
Amelia's stomach tightened. "Do you need to leave? I can handle things here."
For a moment, Adrian just stared at her. Then he nodded. "Yes. Take care of the presentation tomorrow. I'll arrange a flight back tonight."
Later that evening, Amelia returned to her hotel, exhausted but curious. She had always known Adrian cared deeply for his sister, but the look on his face earlier hinted at something deeper.
Her curiosity deepened when she stumbled upon an article about Adrian's family history while researching for the presentation. The piece revealed a tragic detail she hadn't known before: Adrian's mother had abandoned him and Lila when they were children, leaving their father to raise them alone.
The revelation made her see Adrian in a new light. Beneath his arrogance and cold exterior, he was a man shaped by loss and betrayal, clinging to control because it was the only thing he trusted.
Amelia received a message from an unknown number just before bed.
"You should be careful around Adrian Blackwood. He's not who you think he is."
The message sent a chill down her spine. Who sent it? And what could it mean?
***
The morning after Adrian left to see Lila, Amelia found herself strangely unsettled. The man who had stormed into the hotel lobby, berating the staff, seemed vastly different from the one she'd seen crumple under the weight of his sister's health news. That vulnerability stayed with her, clashing against her usual dislike for him.
Despite his arrogance, there was something deeper—something she couldn't quite name—that made her wonder if Adrian Blackwood was as untouchable as he pretended to be.
A few days after returning from the trip, Amelia was working late when her phone buzzed. Seeing Adrian's name on the screen, she hesitated before picking up.
"Amelia," his voice came through, quieter than usual, "I need your help."
She frowned, surprised. "What kind of help?"
"I'm stuck at the hospital," he admitted. "Lila's had a bad day, and I can't leave her right now. There's a dinner with a potential client tonight—I need you to go in my place."
Amelia was stunned. Adrian never handed off client meetings, let alone something as personal as a dinner.
"Are you sure?" she asked.
"I wouldn't ask if I wasn't," he replied, his tone clipped but lacking its usual sharpness. "Please, Amelia."
The uncharacteristic "please" caught her off guard, and before she could overthink it, she agreed.
Amelia arrived at the upscale restaurant dressed in a sleek black dress, prepared to charm the client. To her surprise, the client was an older man who had clearly heard tales of Adrian's fiery reputation.
"I was expecting Mr. Blackwood himself," the man said with a raised eyebrow.
"He's attending to a family emergency," Amelia replied smoothly. "But I assure you, I'm more than capable of discussing the details of the partnership."
By the end of the night, she had not only secured the deal but also earned the client's respect. As she left the restaurant, her phone buzzed with another call from Adrian.
"How did it go?" he asked.
"We got the deal," Amelia replied, a hint of pride in her voice. "I might just be better at this than you are."
She expected a sarcastic retort, but instead, he chuckled—a low, genuine sound that caught her off guard.
"I'm starting to believe it," he said. "Thank you, Amelia."
The warmth in his voice made her heart skip unexpectedly. She ended the call quickly, brushing off the feeling as exhaustion.
A week later, Adrian was back in the office, and things had returned to their usual dynamic—his arrogance, her calm indifference. But late one evening, Amelia found him alone in the boardroom, staring at a photo of Lila on his phone.
"Everything okay?" she asked softly.
He looked up, startled, and for a moment, he seemed unsure of how to respond. Then he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "She's... stable, for now. But it's always a ticking clock with her."
Amelia hesitated before stepping closer. "You care about her more than anything, don't you?"
"She's the only family I have left," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I can't lose her."
For a brief moment, the wall Adrian had so carefully constructed around himself seemed to crack. Amelia wanted to say something comforting, but instead, she placed a hand on his shoulder.
"You won't," she said firmly. "Not if you keep being there for her."
Their eyes met, and for the first time, she saw something vulnerable in his gaze—something that made her heart flutter despite herself.
The following week, Amelia accompanied Adrian to a charity gala. It was part of the company's image-cleaning campaign after the viral video, and Adrian insisted she attend.
"I'm not exactly a party person," she protested as they entered the grand ballroom, its crystal chandeliers casting a golden glow over the crowd.
"Good," he replied. "It means you won't embarrass me by getting drunk and causing a scene."
She shot him a glare. "Charming as ever, Mr. Blackwood."
The evening went smoothly until a slow song began to play. Adrian surprised her by holding out his hand.
"Dance with me," he said.
She hesitated, unsure if this was a genuine gesture or another display of his need for control. But the look in his eyes was softer than she'd ever seen, and without thinking, she placed her hand in his.
They moved to the music in silence, the world fading around them. Adrian's hand on her waist was firm yet gentle, and Amelia found herself noticing how different he felt in this moment—less the arrogant CEO, more the man she'd glimpsed in those rare, unguarded moments.
"You're full of surprises," she murmured.
"So are you," he replied, his voice low and intimate.
For a brief moment, Amelia allowed herself to wonder what it would be like to let her guard down with him. But as the music ended, reality came rushing back.
The next morning, Amelia received an email from an unknown sender. Attached was a document—a contract proposal for a secret merger Adrian was negotiating.
Beneath the attachment was a note:
"If you knew the truth about Adrian Blackwood, you'd walk away while you still can."
Amelia stared at the screen, her pulse racing. Who had sent this? And what did it mean?
She glanced at Adrian through the glass walls of his office, his head bent over his work. For the first time, she wondered if she was getting too close to a man she didn't fully understand.