Obsession His Runaway Bride (Noelle and Adrian) novel Chapter 15

Chapter 15: The Consigliere

Chapter 15: The Consigliere

Grace swirled the amber liquid in her glass. The ice clinked softly against the sides before she took a slow sip of her cognac, savoring the burn as it slid down her throat.

With a sigh, she set the glass down on the table beside her and turned her gaze toward the figure seated on the floor. Marco, with his usual relaxed posture, leaned against the couch, one knee up, his arms lazily draped over it. His dark eyes

flickered toward her, waiting.

“How much do you know about my cousin?” Grace asked, her voice smooth but carrying an edge of amusement.

Marco exhaled through his nose, tilting his head as if considering the question. “I know that he’s unpredictable,” he said, his tone as flat as ever. “And by the sound of his voice, he’s like an unstable balloon.”

Grace barked out a laugh, nearly spilling her drink. “A f*****g balloon? That’s how you describe him?”

Marco merely shrugged. “One wrong move and-pop.”

Grace shook her head, still chuckling. “Seriously, though… you.” She lifted a hand and lazily flicked Marco’s ear, making him grunt. “If you ever act like my s**t cousin, I’ll hunt you down. That’s for sure.”

Marco raised a brow, unimpressed.

Grace smirked and leaned down, resting her weight onto his back. She draped her arms over his shoulders like a cat lounging on its perch, her breath ghosting near his ear. “I’m not like Noelle,” she murmured, lips curving. “I don’t let my

man cheat on me. One must face the consequences of his own making.”

Marco’s fingers twitched slightly, but his face remained neutral. “You’re heavy.”

Grace immediately stiffened, her jaw dropping.

“Excuse me?!”

Marco, as calm as ever, turned his head slightly. “You’re heavy,” he repeated, deadpan. “I don’t lie.”

Grace gasped in exaggerated offense and lightly smacked the back of his head. “Unbelievable! Are you saying I gained

weight?!”

Marco simply closed his eyes, sighing. “I’m saying you should get off me before I suffocate.”

Grace huffed but didn’t move, her arms still wrapped around his neck as she pressed her cheek against his head with a

triumphant grin. “Nope. This is your punishment.”

Marco muttered something under his breath-probably a curse-but made no move to push her away.

Grace smirked. He never did.

“Just tell me you miss me,” she whispered, her voice teasing but carrying something heavier beneath the surface.

Marco rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. “I was raised by your father to protect you, not to flirt with you.”

Grace’s smirk faltered for half a second, but she masked it before he could see.

“That damn old man,” she muttered, leaning back. “I can love whoever I want and marry whoever I want.”

Marco groaned and finally pushed himself up from the floor, stretching his stiff limbs with an air of irritation. “You’re the only woman I know with a mouth worse than mine. Hell, you’re rougher than half the men in this damn house.” He cast her a sideways glance, eyes sharp. “Maybe learn some manners, and I’ll call you the title you deserve.”

Grace narrowed her eyes at him, something unreadable flickering in her expression. She knew she had a sharp tongue. She knew she wasn’t soft or delicate. She grew up in an all-male household, trained alongside them, commanded respect in a world that never made space for her. And because of that, no boy ever looked at her the way they did at the women in silk dresses with their sweet smiles and pretty words.

But none of that mattered.

Because since the day Marco stepped into this house, she had set her sights on him.

Love at first sight. That’s what they called it.

But Marco? He was a stubborn bastard. Bound by duty, by an outdated sense of loyalty, refusing to see what was right in

front of him. Her father wasn’t even forcing those old mafia traditions. Marco was the one clinging to them like a lifeline.

Grace exhaled slowly, pushing down the frustration that had been building for years. Instead, she softened her tone, flashing a sweet smile. “Alright then,” she said lightly. “Let’s have dinner.”

Marco shot her a look, his brow twitching. “A lady doesn’t invite a man. It’s supposed to be the other way around.”

Grace snapped. “Ah, damn it! Come with me!”

Before he could argue, she grabbed his arm, slipping her fingers around his wrist and dragging him out of the room. Her grip on Marco’s wrist was firm as she dragged him toward the door. But just as she reached for the handle, Marco

suddenly stopped moving. His weight anchored her in place, forcing her to turn back with a glare.

“What now?” she huffed.

Marco stared at her coldly. Then, with a slow exhale, he pried her fingers off his wrist. Not harshly, not aggressively but

with enough force to make it clear.

“Grace,” he said, his voice quieter than usual. “This… whatever you’re trying to do… it’s never going to happen.”

For the first time in years, Grace had nothing to say.

But Marco continued, his gaze steady, unwavering. “You’re my boss’s daughter. I was raised to protect you, not to be with

you. That’s the way it is, and that’s the way it’ll always be.”

His words sliced through her like a blade, but she refused to let it show.

Instead, she let out a small, breathy laugh and tilted her head. “Wow. You sound so sure of yourself.” Her voice was light, teasing, like always. But the sharp glint in her eyes had dulled, just a little.

Marco said nothing.

Grace met his gaze for another moment, as if searching for something, but all she found was a wall he refused to let down. And that-more than his words-was what made her chest tighten.

Fine. If that’s how he wanted to play it.

She took a step back, stuffing her hands into her pockets as if she wasn’t just holding onto him seconds ago. “Alright, alright. No need to be so dramatic,” she said casually, flashing him an easy grin. “Forget dinner. Let’s just grab lunch tomorrow.”

Marco blinked, thrown off by her sudden shift. “What?”

“Lunch,” she repeated. “No strings, no flirting, no ‘whatever the hell you think I’m trying to do.’ Just food. You eat, right?”

Marco studied her, as if waiting for a punchline. When none came, he sighed and rubbed his temple. “You’re exhausting.”

Grace smirked. “And you’re an ass. So? Lunch or not?”

Chapter 15 The Consigliere

He hesitated for a fraction of a second before muttering, “Fine.”

Grace clapped her hands together. “Great! It’s a date.”

Marco groaned. “It’s not a-”

“See you tomorrow, Marco,” she cut in, already heading for the door.

She didn’t look back as she left the room. She didn’t let him see the way her fingers clenched slightly in her pockets or the tears that were threatening to fall.

It was fine.

She’d play his game.

For now.