CHAPTER 211: HIS SISTER?

The elevator doors hissed shut, enclosing us in the quiet, carpeted space. The only sound was the soft hum of the machinery and the girl’s continued dabbing at her hoodie. She finally stopped, looking at the bright orange splotches with a resigned sigh.

"So," I began gently, "you don’t know your brother’s name or department? That might make it a little tricky to find him in a building this size."

"Mm." She simply said.

"Oookaayyy." I said as I watched her, waiting for her to reach out and press a button, but her hand remained still, as it is now tucked into the pocket of her jeans.

"You can press your brother’s floor whenever you’re ready," I prompted again, gently.

"Mm." Her non-answer was more a sound than a word. She didn’t move.

"Not your stop?" I asked when we passed the 20th floor.

"No."

We kept climbing.

We passed the twenty seconnd floor. Then the twenty-ninth. Then the thirty-fourth.

"How about now?" I asked with a small smile, hoping to nudge her.

Her hazel eyes flicked to mine. "No."

Well. That was... helpful. I sighed under my breath and leaned back against the panel, package still tucked under my arm. I wasn’t going to press further. Whoever this girl’s brother was, he’d better be worth the patience.

We passed the 30th floor, then the 40th. The floors of glass-walled offices and bustling departments blurred into a rising streak of corporate beige and steel. I kept glancing at the girl, whose expression remained placid, almost meditative. She hadn’t so much as shifted her weight. My initial plan to be helpful was slowly being replaced by a prickling sense of unease. This girl was a complete enigma, and I had just bypassed all security protocols to bring her to the most secure part of the building.

And my own floor was fast approaching.

"Are you sure you know where you’re going?" I asked, a hint of concern creeping into my voice. "We’re almost at the top."

"I’m sure," she replied, her voice soft but definite.

The moment the elevator doors slid open on the executive floor.

The scent of Adrien’s expensive cologne and freshly brewed espresso hit me a second before I saw him, arms crossed, a playful smirk on his face that immediately made my heart flutter.

"You know, most personal assistants actually return from their deliveries before their lunch break is over," he teased, his voice a low hum that vibrated through the serene quiet of the floor. His eyes, the color of honey, were fixed on me, alight with affection.

And then they flicked to the girl beside me.

His entire posture shifted in a heartbeat. The playful man vanished, replaced by a bewildered, slightly alarmed person. my stomach plummeted.

Oh no. He is going to kill me.

I’d just hauled some random teenager past security and straight onto his floor.

But then—

"Elara?" Adrien’s voice cut through the air.

Pause.

Did he just... call her by name?

"Hi, brother."

My breath caught. Elara. Oh God. Of course. My mind scrambled, dragging up a memory I should have recognized instantly—A few month ago, the Walton family dinner, the first time I’d ever walked into his world and I was finding ways to hit his head of how annoying he was. She had been there. Quiet, almost invisible, but dressed like she owned the marble under her feet. And I... I hadn’t put the pieces together. I’d just marched his baby sister straight past security like she was a lost stray. Shame prickled hot beneath my skin.

Adrien, however, was staring at her like he’d just seen a ghost. His composure slipped, the way it rarely did—stunned, tense, even a little pale. "What the hell are you doing here? And what happened?" he demanded softly, though his voice was more protective than scolding.

Before I could form a defense, Elara beat me to it. She turned toward him, her juice-stained hoodie clinging awkwardly to her frame, but she seemed unfazed by his sudden intensity, brushed past his first question. She gestured a thumb in my direction, her expression one of pure, unadulterated approval. "This one," she stated, as if presenting a fascinating scientific specimen. "This one is a queen. There was a...situation in the lobby. A walking, talking mannequin A.K.A one of your employee, I believe, decided my presence was an affront to her delicate sensibilities and baptized me in what I hope was overpriced cranberry juice."

Adrien’s jaw tightened, a muscle feathering along his cheek. "Who?"

Elara waved a dismissive hand. "Irrelevant. She was screeching, making a scene, promising to have your Isabella here fired for the high crime of basic human decency." She looked at me again, and her Raven-esque monotone warmed by a fraction. "Isabella didn’t even raise her voice. Just dismantled her with words, calmed the whole crowd, and got me out of there." She knows my name!?

Adrien’s eyes flicked to me, his jaw tight, unreadable. Elara smirked. "She’s impeccable, Brother. Keep her around. Actually... date her."

The air left my lungs in a quiet rush. My cheeks flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with embarrassment and everything to do with the intense, proud look Adrien was now giving me over his sister’s head.

Adrien didn’t miss a beat. His voice was low, steady, unyielding. "We already are."

Elara’s smirk widened into a knowing grin. "I know."

The silence that followed was thick enough to slice, and for a moment, I was certain I had misheard. She knows? I mean... Of course she would, his mother knows, definitely she would too. Plus, Adrien already announced to the world that he has a girlfriend. No one just doesn’t know what she looks like.

"And you? Are you alright?"

Elara looked down at her hoodie as if noticing the stains for the first time. "I’ve been anointed by the juice of a mediocre brunch. I’ll survive. I was coming to see you anyway. The juice was... incidental."

"And you couldn’t have just called?" he asked, though the edge was gone from his voice, replaced by fond exasperation.

"Where’s the fun in that?" she deadpanned.

Adrien finally tore his gaze from her to pin me with something softer, private. "Thank you, love, for saving my sister." He didn’t even blink at the word sister, as if he’d just pulled a hidden card from his deck. Then his tone sharpened again, all Bossy authority. "Give me the name of the employee later. I’ll handle it."

He placed a protective hand at Elara’s shoulder, steering her toward his office. She went without resistance, though she shot me one last sly smile as the doors shut behind them.