Chapter 7

Isabella's POV

By the time I walked out of the registry office, the morning fog over London had lifted somewhat.

"Next, we just need to wait for the one-month notice period to pass, and then we can come back for the ceremony," Adrian said, glancing at me as he merged the car into the busy traffic.

"Isabella, are you really certain you want to hold the ceremony at the registry office? I truly would love to give you a grand, unforgettable wedding."

"Of course not," I shook my head, refusing him without hesitation. "There's no need to please people we're not on the same wavelength with—those were your exact words to me just now. If that's the case, why should we spend a fortune just to make people who don't even care about us think the ceremony is magnificent enough?"

"Right, you're absolutely right, Isabella." After hearing my words, the smile in his eyes deepened, and his firm agreement carried undisguised affection. Then he released one hand from the wheel and pointed to the inside pocket of his suit jacket. "Here, Isabella, would you mind reaching in and taking it out?"

I leaned over suspiciously and slipped my hand into the pocket against his chest. My fingertips touched the warm fabric, and my knuckles unavoidably brushed against his chest. Through the thin shirt, I could clearly feel his steady, powerful heartbeat and the body heat that belonged to a grown man. A flustered self-consciousness spread up my arm, and I instinctively lightened my breathing, afraid that my movements might disturb his concentration on driving.

"Found it yet?" he asked, tilting his head slightly toward me.

"Mm..." I mumbled a response as my fingers finally touched a cool, square, hard object. I pulled it out—a deep blue velvet box, understated and aged, without any superfluous decoration.

"Open it and see," he said.

I took a deep breath and lifted the lid. A ring lay quietly inside. It wasn't one of those ostentatious, dazzling styles, but rather an extremely classical vintage-cut diamond ring, with the main stone surrounded by a circle of delicate smaller diamonds, and intricate carvings on the band that were elaborate and elegant—clearly something with some history.

I froze.

"Don't look at me like that, Isabella. I didn't buy this recklessly just for appearances. I simply believe that an engagement ring is indispensable, so please listen to me this time, all right?"

My face flushed as I quietly apologized. Actually, when we were submitting the notice earlier, I had already noticed a detail—Adrian had told the registrar that he'd been staying at a hotel booked by a client for the past week. So that expensive bottled water was most likely from the hotel's complimentary bar, not, as I had assumed, something he'd purchased to maintain appearances and vanity despite it being mismatched with his income.

But I was too accustomed to judging others by my own circumstances. This almost reflexive presumption made me feel deeply ashamed.

What puzzled me even more was Adrian himself—he hadn't felt the slightest need to explain or refute. From yesterday until now, the phrase he'd said to me most often was "you're right."

His docility and tolerance were simply incredible, because I still remembered the few brief encounters we'd had in childhood, when he'd been mostly withdrawn, always hiding alone in the darkest corners of the estate like a young beast ready to bite at any moment. No matter who approached, those eyes of his always held a wolf-like wariness and coldness.

I couldn't imagine what kind of experiences had polished that once-prickly boy into the gentle gentleman he was now.

We happened to be passing through a red light, and Adrian stopped the car. He took the ring from the box, held my left hand, and slipped it onto my ring finger. "I'm simply giving this precious ring the owner it deserves."

The cool metal touched my skin, yet I suddenly felt my eyes growing hot, especially when he told me that this ring was a relic left by his late mother. The air in the car seemed to thicken in that moment. He leaned toward me, his warm breath brushing past my ear, and in the next second, his lips pressed against mine, kissing me tenderly and lingeringly.

My heartbeat drummed violently, and my hands instinctively clutched the front of his shirt, allowing him to envelop me entirely in his presence within that confined space.

The car eventually stopped in front of an old apartment building near the hospital. This was my own small flat, with a monthly rent of only £600. Because I simply couldn't afford anything more, I had to share with two other girls.

Looking at the peeling paint outside the window, a strong sense of constraint suddenly rose within me. I didn't want Adrian to come upstairs. That bedroom where it was difficult even to turn around, those mold smells clinging to the hallway that never dissipated—they would tear away what little dignity and decency I had left.

"I don't have much," I cleared my throat, trying to make my voice sound natural. "Just some simple clothing. I can bring it down myself."

Adrian seemed to see through my embarrassment, but he said nothing, only the smile in his eyes deepened. "OK, I'll wait for you down here."

I nodded with relief, pushed open the car door, and quickly walked into the building. A mixture of cheap perfume and takeout food smells hit me in the face.

In the living room, one of my roommates, Juliet, was doing a livestream in front of her phone with a ring light on the table, while the door to the adjacent room was half-open, with embarrassingly breathy moans coming from inside—that was my other roommate, Hannah, passionately making out with her new boyfriend.

Juliet looked up and saw me, immediately removing her earphones. "Hey! Isabella! Is that incredibly handsome guy your boyfriend? He's been here for quite a while now. I'd suggest you hurry up and claim him, because once Hannah that slut sees him, she'll definitely clamp his head between her legs!"

Boyfriend? I paused for a moment, then quickly walked toward my bedroom and pushed open the door.

Julian was standing in my room, his brows tightly furrowed, his face full of undisguised disgust. The room truly wasn't large, the walls even somewhat yellowed, and though my bed could be considered tidy, in his eyes it was probably just a bed that had been salvaged from a garbage heap. Before today, he had never come here.

"You actually live here? Isabella, good God, I really should remind the administrative staff to allocate you more than half again as much disinfectant every day." He looked down at me from his superior position, his tone carrying its usual arrogance and impatience.

"Where on earth did you run off to last night? None of us could get through to your phone. Don't tell me it's really like your family's butler said—that you went off with that good-for-nothing uncle of mine?"