Page 50 of Protected By My Playboy Billionaire

“Check the pantry. There should be some.” I point with my chin before adding honey to our tea.

We return to the living room, balancing the snacks on a tray. Elana filled it with pretzels, popcorn, marshmallows, and other shit I didn’t even know I had.

Elana’s expression falls when she sees the small bloodstain on the couch.

“Don’t think about it,” I say, placing the tray on the coffee table and taking the two mugs from her. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.” I kiss the top of her head before placing the mugs on the table as well.

My phone buzzes in my pocket just as Elana picks up the blanket on the couch. I fish it out of my pocket and look down at the screen. That’s odd.

“Mac?” I pick up. “What’s going on?”

“Mr. Morgan, I’m sorry to bother you so late, but you have a visitor.” His voice is strained.

“This late? Who is it?” I furrow my brows and follow Elana with my eyes as she walks over to the kettle.

“It’s Miss Duchamp.” Victoria? What the hell is she doing here? “She says it’s urgent and demands to speak to you, sir.”

“Urgent my ass.” I know better than to tell Mac to send her on her way, though. She’ll refuse, and I’ll waste even more time than needed. “Tell her to come up.” I hang up and turn to Elana. “Victoria’s here.”

There’s confusion mixed with something else I can’t decipher on her face. “Why is she here?” she asks, picking up the blanket from the couch.

“That’s what I’m going to find out. It’s unlike her to show up uninvited.” I shorten the distance between us and land a soft kiss on her nose. “I won’t take long, I promise.”

“Alright.” She nods, but her eyes are distant. Has something happened that I’m not aware of? “I’ll be upstairs. I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You’re never a bother. I’ve told you this already. You can stay if you like.” I search her eyes. “What’s wrong, Elana?”

“It’s okay,” she shakes her head. “She’s here to see you, not me. I’ll just go call Lilly.” She rises on her tiptoes to kiss my cheek before rushing upstairs.

I hear her bedroom door closing just as the elevator doors open, and Victoria steps out in fullglam. Her heels clank on the marble floor with each step towards me.

“Victoria,” I greet her and extend a hand to accept hers.

“Adrian, I’m sorry to have come so late. You weren’t answering my calls. It’s unlike you,” she says as I lead her to the open kitchen, away from the bloodstained couch.

“I’m not attached to my phone, Victoria,” I tell her and release her hand.

“You’re right. I’m sorry,” she huffs out a laugh and waves a dismissive hand. “I just needed to talk to you, and when you didn’t answer, I thought I’d stop by. I know how much you work, so I knew you’d probably be in your office.”

“I was actually watching a movie,” I tell her and take two glasses from the cabinet. When I turn back to Victoria, her expression is one of curiosity. Not the innocent kind you see on people’s faces when they hear something interesting, no. This one is full of something poisonous.

“Wine?”

“Please.” She smiles, her white teeth flashing. “Thank you for not turning me away.”

“You wouldn’t leave even if I did,” I say dryly as I pour the already-open wine into our glasses before handing one to her. “Well?”

She sighs and sits on the barstool.

“Adrian, I know we already discussed the situation,” Victoria begins, her voice smooth but with an edge that sets me on guard. I sit across from her, studying her carefully as she continues. “But there are some matters that can’t be ignored, regardless of what you think.”

I raise an eyebrow, waiting for her to elaborate. Elana’s sudden reticence to be around when Victoria arrived still pricks at the back of my mind, but I push it aside for now.

“What matters?” I prompt, sipping my wine. The taste is familiar, comforting even, but Victoria’s presence injects the air with such tension that even the vintage can’t dispel it.

“It’s that… girl,” she says, her tone dropping to a confidential whisper. For fuck’s sake. That’s what she came here for?

“What about her?” I lean back. No point in beating around the bush anymore.