Page 72 of Undisputed Chaos
His hair was artfully messy, damp at the temples, and the forest green shirt hugged his broad shoulders.
He was a study in lethal beauty if you ignored—no, if younoticedthe tattoos curling over his wrists and peeking up his throat.
I nodded weakly. “As I’ll ever be.”
The valet hustled over, professionalism cracking as he took in the neon supercar and its tattooed owner.
Adrian unfolded his massive frame from the driver’s seat with lazy confidence, handing off the keys with a wink and a threat disguised as a joke.
“If there’s a scratch, I’ll know.” He said it, grinning, but the valet paled and nodded like he’d threatened his life.
Adrian circled to my side, opening my door with a showman’s bow that made me smile. "Your chariot awaits," he winked, offering his hand.
The moment I stepped out, his arm slid around my waist, possessive and protective.
The white ribbon at my throat felt suddenly tighter, a reminder of who I belonged to now. Adrian's thumb brushed over it briefly, his eyes darkening with satisfaction.
"You look beautiful," he murmured, bending down to speak directly into my ear after kissing it. "They're gonna love me. Everyone does."
The confidence in his voice made me laugh despite my nerves. "My family isn't exactly used to men like you."
"Men who look like art?” Adrian suggested, his free hand settling at the small of my back as we approached the entrance. "Or men who are wanted in three different countries?"
I stumbled. "You’re what?"
He winked. "Kidding. Mostly."
Inside, the hostess’ eyes bulged as we approached, her gaze darting from Adrian's tattooed hands to his face and back again.
"Good evening," she said, recovering quickly. "Do you have a reservation?"
“For Adrian,” he told her, charm cranked to eleven. “We’re joining the Hills party.”
Recognition flashed across her face. "Of course. They arrived a few minutes ago. Right this way."
As we followed her through the restaurant, I felt the weight of stares on us.
Adrian seemed to take up more space than physically possible, his presence commanding attention from every corner. His hand never left the small of my back, guiding me with gentle pressure.
Heads continued to turn. Forks paused midair. A hush rippled over white tablecloths as the tattooed embodiment of “bad decisions” escorted me to my suburban family table.
There they were… My family was seated at a corner table, partially secluded by decorative screens and lush plants.
They were set up like royal observers waiting to meet their… wayward daughter and her criminal boyfriend.
Mom looked elegant as always in a powder blue dress that matched her eyes—my eyes. My father, silver-haired and distinguished in his navy blazer.
And Crew, my baby brother, slouched in his chair with the typical teenage senioritis that vanished the moment he spotted us.
His eyes went comically wide, jaw dropping as he recognized Adrian. He grabbed my father's arm, pointing, words clearly failing him as his mouth literally hung open.
"HOLY SHIT!” he blurted, loud enough to startle nearby diners.
"Language, Crew," Mom admonished, giving me a wary smile.
"Isla,” she greeted, rising with a warm smile that faltered slightly when her gaze traveled up and up and up to Adrian.
My father stood, momentarily speechless, as he took in the man accompanying his daughter. Crew remained frozen, mouth still hanging open, eyes bulging as if he might pass out.
