Adrian's POV
The leather of the Maybach's backseat felt like a cage.
I leaned my head back, closing my eyes, but the darkness only made her image sharper. Alexandra. Alexandra Bernice Calloway. I could almost hear her huffing in my ear, her face turning that specific shade of indignant pink she got whenever I teased her about her initials.
"It's like the alphabet, Adrian! It's lazy! My mother was lazy!"
I let out a breath that was dangerously close to a chuckle, my thumb mindlessly tracing my lower lip. It was still tender where she had sucked on it during our ….. little distraction in my office.
Ah, fuck.
I was losing it.
Growing up, she was just a scrawny shadow. A nuisance with knobby knees and a sharp tongue that I felt obligated to protect, even while I was the one making her life miserable. I had bullied her, sure. I had been the cold, distant step-brother who pushed her away because looking at her made my chest feel tight in a way I didn't understand at fifteen.
