Page 26 of Redamancy (Fated Fixation #2)

Chapter twenty

It happens in the span of two—maybe three—seconds.

Adrenaline kicks in with a vengeance.

I catapult to my feet, loose papers in hand, and ram them back into the dossier. None of them are in the correct sections—a problem for future Poppy to deal with—but I fasten the folder closed.

The doorknob turns.

I toss it haphazardly into the drawer.

The office door opens.

I shove the drawer closed and—

“I apologize for the delay. The ED resident is exceedingly chatty . He can never get to the point fast enough,” Adrian sighs as he enters.

I turn, barely straightening up and masking the sheer panic on my face by the time he looks up from his phone and—

Fuck.

Terror washes over me, immediate and paralyzing, as our eyes lock, and the reality of the situation sinks in like a shard of glass.

None of it was real.

This whole time…it wasn’t fate or the universe or the cosmos driving us back together with reminders of our undeniable connection.

It was Adrian.

Playing a game with me.

And I let him.

I ignored my instincts. I allowed a panther to convince me he was a house cat, and I let him get too close, and now—

Now, he’s got claws, and they look nothing like a house cat’s.

Now, I need to—

“Is something wrong, sweetheart? You seem out of sorts.” I hear nothing but concern in Adrian’s tone, but the way he cocks his head to the side, brows slightly furrowed…

I’ve never felt more like a bug trapped in the lens of a microscope than I do right now, pinned to the spot by his dark eyes.

Does he know?

Can he hear my heart trying to pound out of my chest right now?

I swallow, afraid that if I look down, I’ll see it too—the indent of my most vulnerable organ cracking through my ribcage.

Say something, Poppy.

You look like a deer in headlights.

I lean back against the desk, shoulders pressed forward to hide the way I’m white-knuckling the wood.

Say something.

I try to flatten my fear into the same box as earlier, but it doesn’t quite work with the source of it less than five feet away.

Is he going to kill me?

Is that the endgame here?

Spend ten years tracking me like prey, lure me back to his apartment, and then finish the game…permanently?

More panic floods my system. “Uh—” I loose a shaky breath. “There’s something—I need to go.” I push off the desk, intending to scurry past him, but my legs, twitchy and tight from all the adrenaline, give out.

Adrian catches me as I stumble, arms encircling my waist. “I think you need to sit down,” he says, and he places me on the edge of the desk.

I shake my head. “No, I—”

I need to get out of here.

I try to shimmy off the desk, but his hands remain planted around my hips, physically anchoring me to the spot. “You’re trembling.”

I breathe through my terror. “I’m fine. Seriously, I just need—”

A hand wraps around my throat.

I gasp, eyes widening with sheer panic, but his grip is exceedingly gentle as he tips my head to the side, index and middle fingers pressed lightly against my carotid artery, as if—

“Your heart is racing,” he notes, and it takes a moment to register that he’s not trying to squeeze the life out of me.

He’s just checking my pulse.

I swallow, my relief instantaneous, even as his hand remains lightly wrapped around my throat. “I’m fine,” I manage. “But I need to go, there’s something—”

“You’re not going anywhere when you’re on the verge of a panic attack,” he cuts in, one eyebrow raised. “Which is not how I left you when I stepped out to take that call. What happened?”

I almost laugh.

No, I am not how you left me, I want to say. Not at all. The girl who watched you walk out of this office thought the past several weeks were an organic reconnection—not an intricate web of lives years in the making.

Instead, I take a deep breath.

And I let him see every bit of fear swirling in my eyes.

“It’s LuAnne. She called me just a minute ago.

Toby got into a carton of grapes when she was cleaning out the fridge.

They’re on their way to the hospital.” Even I’m surprised by how easily the lie spills out of me—though there’s no need to fake the tremor in my voice or the alarm in my eyes.

Sorry, Toby, I think. I promise there’s an entire box of Churu treats in it for you if I make it out of here in one piece.

Adrian says nothing, his hand still loosely wrapped around my neck, and I can only hope he contributes the quickening of my pulse to concern for Toby.

“I should go,” I continue. “If I leave now, I should be able to meet them there.”

I squirm under the hawk-like scrutiny of his dark eyes, empty of any genuine sympathy or concern.

A bug trapped in the microscope lens.

For a moment, I worry that he sees through the farce. He’s already pieced together what’s happened, and he’s not going to let me go.

Or maybe he never was, a little voice in the back of my head whispers. Maybe he doesn’t care what you’ve seen or not seen in this room because he planned to end this game tonight , anyway .

Anxiety clogs my throat, but I open my mouth, prepared to plead, to beg, to do whatever I need to—but then Adrian blinks, his expression clearing.

And he releases me.

“Of course,” he says, and in the time he takes to step back, his blank expression has morphed into a gentle smile. “You should leave right away.”

I can’t tell if it’s the flatness of his eyes, or just general wariness following all that I’ve discovered tonight—but no part of me feels relieved by his sudden change.

What other tricks do you have up your sleeve?

I nod cautiously as I slide off the desk. “I’m sorry to rush out like this,” I lie. “But you know how these things are. They can go downhill in an instant.”

A foot away, he watches as I adjust my dress with trembling hands. “Of course,” he hums. “You’re off to AMC then?”

I pause. “…yeah. LuAnne works there. She knows everyone.”

A shiver wracks down my spine.

And you know that too.

Because you donated millions of dollars to AMC this past year.

Dread coils in my stomach—but I try not to let it show on my face as Adrian leads me out of the office and back toward the main living area.

I just need to get out of here.

I can ruminate on all the terrible, intrusive ways he has infiltrated my life later.

Uncovering the truth about Adrian even warps my perception of his apartment, as the slate grays, sharp corners, and matte black fixtures cast a far more sinister shadow than they did thirty minutes ago.

“I’ll let Alex know you’re in need of a ride,” Adrian says as we round closer to the entryway.

My eyes widen. “Oh, you don’t need to do that. I’ll just call an Uber.”

We reach the elevator, and Adrian turns to face me. “I don’t need to. I want to.”

I swallow. “I wouldn’t want to be an inconvenience.”

“It’s not an inconvenience,” he shrugs.

“To you, maybe,” I shoot back. “But your driver—”

“Is paid far too much to care,” he cuts in. I open my mouth to argue, but he beats me to it. “And regardless, it’ll be faster than waiting for an Uber. I imagine you want to get there as quickly as possible, don’t you?”

I close my mouth.

Shit.

Briefly, I contemplate agreeing to the wasted trip, if only because it’ll look more suspicious to keep insisting on the Uber but…

What if he has another trick up his sleeve?

What if he orders the driver to stick around until “Toby’s appointment” is over? What if he alerts Adrian to my ploy? What if Adrian orders him to just not drive me to the hospital? What if…any number of other variables I won’t be able to control as soon as I’m in his car?

Nope. Not happening.

Heart pounding, I offer Adrian a sheepish smile.

“I really appreciate the offer,” I say. “And you’re right, it probably would be faster, it’s just…

” I look up at him through my lashes. “Well, I’m not sure how I’d explain it to LuAnne.

Showing up in a private car, with a driver…

she’s going to have questions, and I’m not sure these are the sort of circumstances I’d like to answer them in. You understand, right?”

I’m hoping my coy smile hides just how flimsy of an excuse it really is.

As if I’d ever turn down a private car and chauffeur.

Adrian lifts an eyebrow as if he’s drawn the same conclusion—but then he nods. “Whatever you’re comfortable with, sweetheart.”

I eye him warily.

It’s a far too sane response for the sort of psychotic control freak that owns the file I found in the office, but clearly, this is part of the game too.

Put on a reasonable, easygoing facade to make me feel as if I’ve got a semblance of control—all while pulling strings behind the scenes.

And I fell for it.

The elevator dings open, and Adrian leans down just far enough to gently brush his lying lips against mine. “Be careful out there, sweetheart.”

An ironic sentiment, considering my biggest threat isn’t out there, but right here—seventy stories up, kissing me sweetly on the mouth in a cashmere sweater.

But I nod.

And then I flee.