ADRIAN’S POV
“I’m not sure that applies every time,” I said, my tone skeptical but amused. “But go on.”
James smirked. “Why don’t we talk about this over bread and toast?”
1 blinked. “This is well past noon. Haven’t you had breakfast yet?”
He shrugged casually, already making his way toward the door. “The office was packed. I barely had time to take a proper shower.”
That sounded like James. Always in a rush, always juggling three things at once, yet somehow still managing to show up at my place to fix me. It had been a while since I cleaned my own room. At first, it felt like punishment–something beneath me. But I had slowly gotten used to it, to the simplicity of taking care of my own space.
Still, cleaning the entire mansion? That was another story. No matter how much pride I had left, this place was far too massive to maintain alone. I’d need to bring some of the staff back–eventually. Once I was sure I could trust myself not to spiral again.
“I’ve got the perfect way to get your mind back in the game,” James said as we descended the staircase, his tone full of mischief. “Something to keep you focused.., distracted.”
I raised a brow, intrigued despite myself. “And what’s that?”
He didn’t answer right away. Typical. James loved suspense like a kid loved candy. We entered the kitchen together–one of the few places in the mansion that still felt lived in. James knew his way around the space as if it were his own. He moved with ease, scanning the shelves, opening drawers, and checking cupboards.
I leaned against the counter, watching him. “You planning on cooking or stealing my food?”
“No comment,” he said, finally triumphing with a small carton of eggs. He placed them on the counter and reached for a loaf of sliced bread. Then he pulled out a frying pan and set it on the stove.
He glanced at me while cracking an egg into a bowl. “Ever heard of the Rolls–Royce Black Heart?”
My eyes narrowed slightly. “Of course. But they don’t make those anymore. Production stopped what–fifty years ago?”
James grinned. “Exactly. That’s why this caught my
“What did?”
attention.”
“There’s an auction in a few days,” he said while whisking the eggs, the sound rhythmic and soothing. “And guess what’s going on sale?”
I stood straighter. “No way.”
He nodded. “The Rolls–Royce Black Heart. One of the few remaining models. Fully restored.”
That caught my attention like a flame to dry wood. Not many people own that car anymore. It was a symbol, a legacy. Back in the ‘70s, it was Rolls- Royce’s crown jewel–the best–selling, most iconic luxury model of its time. Collectors kept it locked away like a priceless treasure. No one sold them. Not unless they were desperate… or crazy.
“And someone wants to auction it?” I asked, the dea already stirring something inside me that I hadn’t felt in a long time.
“But,” James‘ voice cut through my thoughts, grounding me back in the moment, “if you’re going, you need to be prepared.”
He cracked another egg against the rim of the pan and dropped it in with practiced ease. The sizzle of hot oil welcomed the egg, and in seconds the ri aroma of breakfast began to fill the kitchen. Something about that scent–it was nostalgic, familiar, almost like warmth slowly pushing the cold out of my chest.
1/2
Chapter 169
James glanced over at me and continued, “The people at this auction aren’t just your average salary earners. Fin taking about billionaire People who come from every corner of the world. Some of them have more money than they know what to do with, and they want that car. They at nothing to get it.
A slow smile crept onto my face an expression I hadn’t worn in what felt like years. It came naturally, as though it had simply been hiding under at the grief and solitude.
It had been over eight years since I last stepped into an auction hall. Eight years since I sat beneath the gleam of crystal chandeliers, my number card ready, my eyes locked in silent battle with other titans of industry. But I remembered it all like yesterday. The tension. The thrill. The subtle war of pride and power.
And most of all, I remembered one thing: I never lost.
I grabbed a slice of bread from the plate he’d set near me and took a deliberate bite. “And besides, I welcome the challenge. I want to see how this plays
James watched me as I spoke, and there was something in his eyes–relief, maybe, or pride. Probably both. He smiled, nodding slightly, like a soldier watching his general step back into formation.
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