Page 4 of Fake Dating Adrian Hunter
I’ve figured out Adrian Hunter. He’s bringing his A game to this wedding by using the same tactic as me: look irresistible to piss the other one off. He’s calculated the exact angle to stand in this lobby so the afternoon sun gives his skin an enviable glow. He deliberately wore navy blue because he knows the color is delicious on him. And that cologne, what is it—Verena Kryptonite?
“Hello, Adrian.” The words snap out of my mouth with an acidic taste.
Adrian’s smile eases into something smug. He knows his presence is pushing my buttons, and it pleases every bone in his body. Perhaps I should act happy? That would really set him off.
“Searching for a longer dress in your luggage?” he asks.
I bite my tongue so he doesn’t see how furious that question makes me. This is how Adrian works—no blatantly rude comments, but instead, he is the master of subtle remarks that have snide undertones, designed to keep me up all night ruminating over him. The kind of comments that catch me so off guard I’m too speechless to say anything in return, and it isn’t until hours later that I’ve developed a comeback, but my time for glory has passed.
I’m too fat to wear a dress this shortis what Adrian really means.I scroll through my brain for that list of snarky comebacks I prepared, but of course, they’ve all abandoned me.
When I don’t reply, Adrian continues, “I’m surprised to see you alone. Don’t you normally have a group of minions running around after you?”
He’s on a roll.
“Assistants,” I correct. “Contrary to what you may believe, I can manage on my own.”
“So, no plus-one to carry your luggage?”
“So, you’re still a jerk?” There we go. Not my finest comeback, but at least it’s something.
“I’m asking a friendly question.”
“Well, don’t.Goodbye.” I turn back to my luggage.
“I see you’re still acting like a bitch.”
My blood boils. I grab the handle on two of my suitcases and pull them after me as I exit the lobby. In a perfect world, my hips would be swaying with a sexy walk, but the suitcases are heavy, and I end up yanking them.
Adrian doesn’t get the hint I want to be left alone, and he catches up, walking alongside me on the garden path.
“Why are you following me?” I hiss.
“Come on now, babe, there’s no need to take that tone with me. I’m interested to know what my childhood friend has been up to.”
“Read the news. Turn on the TV.”
“Oh, I have. Quite some interesting stuff as of lately.”
I freeze, knowing that for the past six months, all the media have been covering is my breakup with Jake. You can’t look anywhere without seeing a heading that saysFashion sensation cheated on by long-time boyfriend, orVerena turns to alcohol to wash away the pain. I was out drinking one time.
One time!
I keep walking, ducking my head to avoid overhanging palm leaves. “I bet you were laughing with pleasure over my failures.”
“Mostly.”
“What a superb human you’ve grown into, Adrian. Rave to me all about your success.”
“You haven’t asked Phoebe or Tory about me?”
“I haven’t thought about you in seven years.”
He chuckles, strolling beside me with hands in his pockets. “I don’t believe that for one second. I know you, Verena Valentine. You would have been cursing the day that my sister proposed to Tory. Your little heart would have been beating so fast at the thought of seeing me again.”
“Right, of course,” I deadpan. “So, enlighten me, what has the marvelous Adrian Hunter been doing all these years?”
“Living in London. Working as an accountant.”
