The Enemy Who Loves Me

ADRIAN POV:

Adrian's POV

"Sir, can we go?" the driver asked, his voice careful, probably because he noticed my gaze hadn't left the house.

"Wait," I said, my tone sharp, my eyes locked on the door. I needed to make sure she went inside safely.

Fiona.

That girl was a mystery wrapped in trouble, and I wasn't sure why I even cared.

Just as she disappeared inside, my phone rang, snapping me out of my thoughts.

Annoyed, I pulled it out and answered without checking the ID. "Who is this? Where did you get my number?" I demanded, my voice cold, impatient.

There was a pause. Then a hesitant voice stammered, "Ehmm…"

I clenched my jaw. "Ehmm, what?"

The girl on the other end flinched at my tone. "It's about your friend, Josh," she finally managed. "He's drunk. Really drunk."

I sighed, already regretting picking up. "Where is he?"

"The club," she answered quickly.

I didn't have time for this. My night was already ruined.

"Fine. I'm coming." Without another word, I ended the call.

I turned to the driver. "Back to the club."

"Yes, sir," he said, immediately starting the car.

Leaning back against the seat, I ran a hand through my hair, irritation prickling under my skin. I didn't like being pulled around like this. First Fiona, now Josh.

But Fiona…

My jaw tightened as my mind drifted back to her—the way she had turned back at the last second, the way she had pressed that quick, teasing kiss to my cheek before running inside.

Damn girl.

The car slowed, pulling up in front of the club.

"We're here, sir," the driver announced.

"Mm," I hummed in acknowledgment, already stepping out.

The second I approached the entrance, the guards immediately opened the door without question.

Good. At least someone knew better than to waste my time.

I strode inside, my long strides cutting through the haze of alcohol, sweat, and flashing lights.

Now, where the hell was Josh?

### Adrian's POV

The VIP section reeked of spilled alcohol and bad decisions. I walked in, only to find my so-called best friend sprawled on the floor like a tragic hero in a poorly written drama.

Without hesitation, I nudged him with my foot—not too hard, just enough to wake his pathetic ass up.

"Ahhh! Who dares to kick this young master?" Josh yelped, flailing dramatically before jolting upright like he'd been electrocuted.

I crossed my arms. "It's me."

The moment his bleary eyes landed on me, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around me in a sloppy hug.

I stiffened. What the hell?

"Adrian, my heart is broken… shattered," Josh wailed, his voice thick with alcohol and despair.

I looked down at him in disgust. Snot. Tears. Drool.

For a second, I considered shoving him off, but—unfortunately—I wasn't that heartless.

With a sigh, I gritted out, "What happened?"

Josh sniffled. "Sh-She left me."

"She?" My brows furrowed. "Who the hell are you talking about?"

"Sheila…" he mumbled.

"Sheila who?"

"My girlfriend."

I stared at him like he had grown a second head. "Your girlfriend?"

Josh was many things—an annoying rich brat, a shameless flirt, a terrible drunk—but a committed boyfriend? Since when?

"When did that happen? And why wasn't I informed?" I demanded.

Josh sniffled again, wiping his face with his sleeve. "It was on your sixteenth birthday. Your aunt brought some little girl with her. Some incidents happened, we clicked, and we started dating."

I frowned. "And you didn't tell me because…?"

"Because of her special identity."

My frown deepened. "Special identity? What the hell does that mean?"

Josh slumped against the couch, his face twisted in misery. "I don't know, man. Everything was fine. We were having drinks after you left, and then—out of nowhere—she called me and said, 'Let's break up.'"

I raised a brow. "Just like that?"

He nodded furiously. "Just like that! Before I could say anything, she hung up. And when I tried to call back…" His voice cracked. "The number you are trying to call is unavailable."

I exhaled, rubbing my temple. "Damn."

Looking at him, I actually felt… pity. Not that I'd ever admit it.

"Sorry," I muttered, awkwardly.

Big mistake.

Josh's eyes widened. Then—

"AHHHH!"

A full-on, dramatic meltdown.

"Why would you say that?!" he wailed, shaking me by the shoulders.

I gritted my teeth. Patience, Adrian. Patience.

"Fine," I grumbled. "I take back the apology."

Josh gasped, looking even more betrayed. "You're taking it back?!"

I was this close to knocking him out.

With a sigh, I shoved him off me and turned to the security. "Get him in the car before I lose my damn mind."

Two guards quickly stepped forward, dragging the overly dramatic drunkard towards the exit.

Once they had him secured in the back seat, I slipped into the car, shutting the door behind me.

"Drive to the Silas mansion," I ordered.

The engine roared to life.

As we pulled away from the club, I leaned back, closing my eyes for a moment.

Tonight had been a damn mess.

And somehow, between Fiona and Josh, I had a feeling it was only the beginning.

.....

### Adrian's POV

The Silas mansion loomed ahead, its towering gates parting like the entrance to a kingdom. The moment the car stopped, I stepped out, dragging Josh along with me.

Before I could take two steps, a blur of movement shot toward me. A young woman, full of energy, dashed down the grand staircase, her face contorted in worry.

"Darling, stop running, you'll fall," a deep, composed voice followed behind her, but the woman paid him no mind.

She reached me in seconds, eyes scanning Josh in panic. "What happened to my son?!"

"Nothing serious," I replied nonchalantly. "Just a little heartbreak."

At my words, the calm man behind her suddenly burst into laughter.

"I wonder who broke his heart," he said between chuckles. "That person deserves a reward from me."

Before I could react, the woman whipped around and kicked him in the leg.

"I also wonder who's sleeping outside tonight," she said sweetly, daring him to continue laughing.

The amusement drained from his face immediately. He clamped his mouth shut, looking thoroughly aggrieved.

I nearly scoffed. These were the same people feared in the underworld? The same couple with enough power to send grown men trembling? Watching them bicker like this was almost… unsettling.

Josh stirred in my grasp, groaning as he blinked himself awake. His unfocused gaze darted around before finally recognizing his surroundings.

The next second, he shrugged me off and staggered inside by himself.

I raised a brow. "Maybe he wasn't that drunk after all."

His mother—still worried—rushed after him, her concern shifting from me to her son.

"Darling, wait for me!" the man called after her, hurrying to catch up.

Shaking my head, I turned back to my car and signaled the driver. "Take me home."

—

As soon as I stepped into my house, a projectile came flying straight at me.

Instinct kicked in. I dodged effortlessly.

A slipper hit the wall behind me with a thud.

I exhaled. "Is that how you welcome your son home?"

"Which son?" my mother's voice rang out, sharp and unimpressed. "You can't be my son, because my son doesn't come home at this time of night!"

Rolling my eyes, I smirked. "Well, I'm home now. No need to be so dramatic."

That only made things worse. Her face turned red with fury, and I could already see the next round of scolding forming on her lips.

Before she could unleash hell, my father strolled in, exuding his usual calm.

"What's all this noise about?" he asked before turning to my mother in his usual doting tone. "Baby, don't mind him."

Then, without missing a beat, he looked at me and ordered, "Go to your room. And don't talk to your mother like that."

I barely had time to smirk before my mom snapped, "Don't glare at our son like that."

She gave my father a sharp tap on the back.

His expression turned blank. "Honey, why did you hit me? I thought you were mad at him?"

"Even so."

I tuned out their banter, already making my way upstairs. They called my name, but I pretended not to hear them.

Reaching my room, I tossed my jacket onto a chair and collapsed onto the bed—only to freeze.

Mysophobia.

With a sigh, I peeled myself off the sheets and made my way to the bathroom.

The warm water cascaded down my skin, washing away the remnants of the night. The tension in my muscles eased, but my mind remained restless.

After drying off, I threw on my pajamas and settled back onto the bed, staring at the ceiling.

I was exhausted. And yet, sleep remained out of reach.

My mind was still occupied.

Not by Josh. Not by my parents.

By her.

Fiona.

I whispered her name, the sound lingering in the empty room.