Chapter 6 - A DINNER FOR THREE
The neon lights of downtown Chicago blurred into streaks of ruby and amber against the rain-slicked pavement as Lisa’s modest sedan navigated the evening traffic. In the backseat, Mia was quietly humming a tune from Swan Lake, her white flower clip securely pinned to her wavy light brown hair, completely oblivious to the fact that she had single-handedly hijacked the corporate social calendar of Vance Global’s most formidable CEO.
They weren't heading back to the Wicker Park apartment. Instead, following a directive delivered with the subtlety of a royal decree, they were parked in the private, subterranean garage of a five-star private residence overlooking Lake Michigan—Adrian Vance’s personal penthouse.
"Mommy, is Mr. Handsome’s house bigger than a castle?" Mia piped up from the back, pressing her nose against the cold glass of the car window as the automatic gates slid open to reveal a cavernous, hyper-modern parking bay filled with vintage sports cars and sleek black sedans.
"It’s an apartment, sweetheart, and we are only here because... well, because your little delivery stunt left us with very few professional alternatives," Lisa muttered nervously, smoothing down her cream-colored silk blouse for the third time that evening. She had changed out of her business suit, opting for something elegant yet understated—a knee-length emerald-green wrap dress that accentuated her striking features without screaming corporate anxiety.
The private elevator doors opened directly into the penthouse foyer, and Adrian was waiting for them. He had discarded his suit jacket, wearing only a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing strong, lightly tanned forearms that carried an effortless, casual masculinity. The cold, ruthless billionaire of the boardroom had vanished; in his place stood a host who looked terrifyingly natural in a domestic setting.
"Welcome," Adrian said, his deep voice rich with amusement as his eyes immediately bypassed Lisa and landed on the six-year-old running toward him.
"I brought chocolate chip!" Mia announced proudly, hoisting a small bakery box into the air like it was the Holy Grail. "And Mommy said I wasn't allowed to mention marriage or daddies tonight, so I'm going to talk about dinosaurs instead."
Adrian let out a rich, genuine laugh—the kind of warm, resonant sound that seemed entirely illegal for a man of his terrifying reputation. He crouched down to Mia's eye level, taking the box with mock solemnity. "A strict protocol, Mia. I appreciate your diplomatic restraint. We shall stick strictly to prehistoric reptiles."
Lisa stood by the entryway, her arms crossed defensively over her chest, watching the interaction with a mixture of profound bewilderment and quiet terror. This wasn't a corporate trap; it was something infinitely more dangerous. It was genuine.
The penthouse was a masterclass in modern luxury—vast glass walls framing the glittering skyline, minimalist leather furniture, and accents of brushed gold that matched the shelves in his office. But what struck Lisa the most was the silence. It was a clean, quiet space that lacked the chaotic warmth of a real home, a void that Mia immediately began filling with enthusiastic descriptions of Tyrannosaurus Rex eating habits over a gourmet dinner prepared by a private chef who had wisely vanished into the back kitchens.
"So," Adrian said softly, pouring a glass of crisp sparkling water for Lisa as they sat at the massive marble dining table while Mia was distracted by a plate of artisanal pastries. "Your department's restructuring proposal cleared the board review an hour ago. You're officially senior VP of corporate strategy. Effective immediately."
Lisa stopped mid-sip, her glass hovering halfway to her lips. She stared at him across the candlelit table, her mind flatlining. "Senior VP? Mr. Vance, that... that position requires ten years of seniority. I have four. The board would never approve that without a massive fight."
"The board approved it unanimously," Adrian replied smoothly, leaning back in his chair, his dark eyes never leaving her face. "Because when they asked who stabilized the PR crisis this morning and drafted the risk model, I told them the truth: you did. And if they had a problem with it, I told them they could find a new CEO."
Lisa felt her breath catch. The sheer weight of his gesture—putting his own capital and authority on the line to back her up—sent a warm, terrifying shockwave through her chest. "You didn't have to do that, Adrian."
It was the first time she had used his first name without a formal title attached to it. The name hung in the air between them, heavy with intimacy and unspoken tension.
Adrian’s expression softened, the sharp edges of his handsome face melting into something raw and unguarded. He reached across the marble table, his fingers lightly grazing the back of her hand. The contact was electric, sending a jolt straight to her core.
"I don't do things I don't want to do, Lisa," he murmured, his voice dropping into a low, hypnotic register. "And for a very long time, I didn't want anything at all. Until yesterday."
Before Lisa could answer—before she could figure out how to build a wall against the fierce, undeniable pull drawing her toward him—a sharp, shattering crash echoed from the far corner of the penthouse, followed by a muffled gasp.
May you like
Adrian and Lisa snapped their heads toward the sound. Standing by the hallway leading to the private master wing was Eleanor Vance, her face twisted in absolute fury, staring at them with eyes burning with venom. She had apparently bypassed building security for the second time in twenty-four hours, and she had just witnessed something she was never meant to see.
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