Chapter 18: Chapter 18 Scandalous fall.
"Did the boss just order an exclusive treatment for that scumbag—the filthy whore who disobeyed our rules?" Titania questioned, still struggling to believe what her ears had just processed.
Greta, once again, was silent, her chest rising and falling heavily in rhythm, while Gregor tried to calm her down. His sister was far too emotional when it came to this man. How many times had he told her the truth—that Adrian was a coldhearted bastard who wouldn’t give a damn about her? Yet she kept saying she didn’t mind. And now... see the consequences.
She had fallen even harder for him. But the beast didn’t even acknowledge her. Even when she bore his fiancée tag, to him it was nothing more than a brand—worthless, just like her. That fact enraged Gregor so much his teeth ground together, but no matter how he felt, he was powerless. The man was simply too smart for his own good.
"I’d advise you not to call him a whore. If the boss hears this, he might have you beheaded," a new voice cut in—sweet, soft, and commanding enough to draw every eye. It was Alexander, the new recruit.
Gregor frowned. Why did this man look so much like Adrian’s whore? Or was he gay too?
"Excuse me, man... are you a girl, transgender, or gay? Which one? Because that’s too girly for my liking," Titania mocked, her voice dripping with scorn. The moment she said it, everyone burst into laughter.
Even Cecilia joined in, her eyes begging for acceptance. Yet without a word, the group slowly began dispersing—Gregor, Greta, Titania, and Cassian leaving together—until only the two newbies were left behind, isolated like viruses.
Cecilia frowned. Her attempt at socializing had been dragged through the mud thanks to this weirdo who couldn’t even behave more masculine.
"Heh... you homo virus. Why aren’t you leaving my sight?" she sneered.
Gbam!
A sudden, powerful kick crashed into her, and Alexander’s pheromones flared. Cecilia fell to the floor screeching, body bending in submission like a miserable subject.
"Yes, you c**t. Learn how to respect Pride Month—and don’t you ever utter such degrading, homophobic statements to me in your useless life again," Alex warned. Tossing back his long hair, which passed his shoulders, he smiled coldly and walked out, leaving the bleeding dog to her fate.
*****
Back in Adrian’s room, Jake carried Daniel and laid him on the cold marble floor—as instructed. He had tried to set him gently on the bed, but Adrian screamed at him and even threw a shoe, forcing him to retreat and follow orders.
Afterwards, Jake stood aside, awaiting further instructions.
"Bring in the first aid. After that, drop it and be on your way," Adrian said nonchalantly, as if it were nothing.
Jake’s eyes widened. A first aid kit?
Could Adrian actually use a first aid kit? And if he intended to treat the boy, why lay him on the cold, uncomfortable floor instead of the bed? Damn, this man was so confusing.
"As you wish, boss." Jake quickly went to the cupboard where the kit was kept for special purposes. After retrieving it, he brought it forward for Adrian.
"Drop it on the floor and leave us," Adrian deadpanned.
Jake bowed slightly and excused himself, leaving the room and the unconscious Daniel behind.
Now alone, Adrian opened the box. He tore off Daniel’s shirt with a rough motion. As his chest and torso came into view, Adrian began unrolling a bandage and carefully cleaning the wounds on his forehead and hands. His movements were slow, steady.
The medicated spirit stung. The cotton wool made Daniel flinch unconsciously, jerking at every touch.
As Adrian worked, his thoughts darkened. What had Daniel been doing with the villa’s owner? The regret hit him hard—why hadn’t he killed that man on the spot? Why had Daniel taken shelter with someone else, someone who wasn’t his?
And worse—it was a male. What if he was handsome? What if... they had done something?
Adrian clenched his jaw. Focus, you’re just being paranoid, he told himself. Daniel wouldn’t dare. He belonged to him. His plaything, to use however he pleased. No one else was allowed to touch him—before or after. Anyone foolish enough to try would find themselves buried in the deepest grave.
"Time to wake up, sleepy face."
With a thunderous slap, Adrian struck Daniel across the face—only after finishing the cleaning and bandaging.
Daniel jolted awake, teeth gritting against the sting.
"Oh, fuck—who the hell is that psychotic raging bitch that slaps someone like that?" he groaned, slowly opening his eyes. Sunlight streamed through the window—it was twilight, the sun almost gone.
Not again.
He couldn’t believe he had been kidnapped again. But where was this? A room? Or a store?
It couldn’t be a store—a store didn’t have a bed. Yet this depressing space hardly looked like a proper room either.
The sheets looked like rags, reeking of poverty and neglect. Daniel knew neglect all too well, but poverty? No. That part of his life he had never been accustomed to.
"Who’s there?" he asked, trying to make sense of the figure looming in the dim corner, blocking the fading sunlight. The room was half-lit, half-shrouded in gloom, almost like a poultry cage.
When the figure stepped closer into the light, Daniel grimaced.
Oh, fuck me... Adrian Valez.
Of all people in the world, why did it have to be him? And did Adrian really come to Draven’s place just to snatch him? What about Draven—was he even alive?
Memories flooded back, and panic surged. His breaths came sharp and fast. If Draven died, Daniel would never forgive himself.
"Oh, someone’s finally returned to the land of the living. Before we get to the punishment I’ve prepared for you, do you have any confession to make?" Adrian’s voice was calm, but his face showed interest—an unnerving curiosity.
Daniel’s chest tightened. He didn’t have any interest in this man beyond wanting to run far, far away. Why wouldn’t this stalker, this evil mafia lord, stop snooping into his life?
"Oh yes, I have one," Daniel muttered, raising his hand—only to wince at the sharp pain. At least he wasn’t tied up or gagged. That was one good thing.
"Please don’t tell me this poultry cage is your room," Daniel blurted suddenly, making Adrian’s eyes flick around.
Of course, the scent here was distinctly his—cinnamon tea. The same scent Daniel despised but couldn’t escape, the same scent that happened to be his favorite tea.
"Wait—you’re rich, right? So why live in such... oh dear, is that a lantern? Who even uses those in this century?" Daniel continued, scanning the room critically.
Adrian was caught off guard. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He wasn’t an extravagant man, true, and no one had ever been brought into this room before. This was his solitude, his sanctuary. Yet here was Daniel—criticizing it like an architect. How charming.
"It’s just how I like my solitude," Adrian muttered—then froze when Daniel’s mouth fell open.
"Oh my God, Adrian, there’s something behind you!"
Before he could even finish, Adrian jumped, startled, and tripped—falling directly onto Daniel. They rolled, tangled, and landed with their mouths just inches apart.
"Oops... it was just a mouse."
But the damage was done. Now they were in a scandalous position neither of them could ignore.