The Billionaire's Two-Faced Escort Wife-Chapter 87: Akin To Love

’Something akin to love—’

Alexander couldn’t shake those words off, even as he poured himself a drink, his fingers clenched around the glass as Adrian’s voice repeated the words in his head.

He glanced at Adrian lying on the bed and sighed; he wasn’t satisfied with that answer.

He turned, walking back to the bed and lowering himself on it.

"Tired?" Alexander asked, kissing the back of Adrian’s shoulder that was turned to him.

Adrian groaned softly, "Shouldn’t I be?" He asked softly, turning over to face Alexander and fixed him with an accusing stare.

Alexander gently shifted over, sitting closer to Adrian and carefully holding his drink.

"I’m sorry— does it still hurt?" Alexander asked, sipping his drink.

Adrian rolled his eyes, "Don’t ask me that, boss. Let’s get back to work–"

"Adrian," Alexander leaned in, cupping Adrian’s face, "I told you I loved you— I meant it." He murmured.

Adrian sighed, "I heard you, Alexander. And I said –"

"That you feel something akin to love for me," he whispered, moving closer to lace his hand over Adrian’s waist.

"You also said you’ve been sure about sleeping with me since the first day you set your eyes on me? What about this person you’re in love with? Does he not care that you might fall for someone else –"

"I’m never falling for someone else," Adrian muttered, looking away from Alexander.

Alexander felt like he’d been used and dumped.

If Adrian was so certain he’d never fall for someone else, does that mean that what they have is just lust?

Did Adrian not even want to consider his feelings just a little?

"He’s— lucky–"

"He’s a bastard. I don’t know why I love him—" Adrian said in a small voice, sighing quietly.

Alexander gulped, caressing Adrian’s cheek, "If he’s so tiring—then love me instead, Adrian. I’ll never hurt you." He whispered huskily.

Adrian laughed, a soft but almost mocking laugh.

Alexander thought Adrian was laughing at him, but Adrian was laughing at himself because he knew that he already loved the man who was begging him to love him.

The problem wasn’t loving Alexander, the problem was how to stop loving Alexander.

Adrian’s soft, mocking laugh cut through the intimacy, making Alexander flinch as if struck. The CEO instantly pulled his hand away from Adrian’s waist, the glass in his hand trembling slightly.

​"What is so funny, Adrian?" Alexander’s voice was sharp, tinged with genuine hurt and renewed suspicion. "Do you find my feelings amusing? Is this whole situation a joke to you?"

​Adrian stopped laughing, the smile fading to a fragile, melancholic expression. He pushed himself up onto his elbows, his gaze pitying, not for Alexander, but for the depth of his own secret affliction.

​"I’m laughing at myself, Alexander," Adrian admitted, his voice low and weary. "Because you said you would never hurt me, and yet, here we are. You’ve already broken me in ways that man I call a bastard never could. He might be tiring, but at least he’s honest about his intentions."

​He looked directly into Alexander’s eyes, trying to convey the complex, self-destructive nature of his emotions. "You ask me to love you, but you expect me to forget being abandoned in an alley? To forget that my existence is a contract? To forget that you only let me be honest when you’re desperate or high?"

​Adrian slowly reached out, his fingers tracing the rigid line of Alexander’s jaw. "The man I’m ’in love with’ is a bastard precisely because he holds all the power, and he makes me feel trapped and vulnerable, yet I still choose him. Doesn’t that sound familiar, Alexander?"

​The implied comparison—the subtle, devastating hint that Alexander himself was the ’bastard’ Adrian couldn’t stop loving—struck Alexander speechless. He stared at Adrian, his mind reeling as the puzzle pieces of Adrian’s elusive, contradictory behaviour slammed into place.

​’He loves me. He’s been fighting me because he loves me, and he hates himself for it.’

​Alexander’s throat went dry. He carefully placed the glass on the nightstand, his eyes never leaving Adrian’s.

​"You’re talking about me," Alexander whispered, the realisation hitting him with the force of a physical blow. "You’re not in love with some phantom. You’re... you’re talking about me."

​Adrian immediately recoiled, pulling his hand away and turning his head back toward the pillows. The truth was out, and it terrified him. He had exposed the one vulnerability that guaranteed Alexander would tighten the chains.

​"Don’t be ridiculous, Boss," Adrian stammered, scrambling to rebuild the wall. "I’m talking about the theoretical man who makes me feel this way. It’s an exercise in abstract emotional projection. Now, can we please leave the feelings out of this and focus on the logistics of my contract?"

​Alexander didn’t let him retreat. He shifted, pinning Adrian gently but effectively with his presence, leaning over him. He lowered his voice, making it deep, rough, and utterly sincere.

​"Look at me, Adrian." When Adrian reluctantly turned his face, Alexander cupped his jaw again, his thumb gently caressing the fading bruise from the attack. "Don’t lie. Not now. Not after what we just shared. The man who makes you feel trapped, the one who you can’t stop loving despite his power—that’s me. Tell me I’m wrong."

​Tears welled up in Adrian’s eyes, born of frustration and self-loathing. "You are wrong, Alexander. You are a terrible, selfish monster. I hate you. I only said ’akin to love’ because I wanted you to feel something, anything, other than that cold indifference you usually wear."

​Alexander shook his head slowly, his intense blue eyes searching Adrian’s soul. "You love me. That’s why you keep testing my boundaries. That’s why you pushed me in the hospital and then let me into the bed. You’re trying to punish me by making me suffer from restraint, but you’re suffering more."

​He pressed a soft, lingering kiss onto Adrian’s forehead. "You’ve been fighting yourself, Adrian. You’ve been fighting the reality that you fell for the devil who holds your leash. And you know what? That devil loves you back. More than he’s ever loved anything."

​Alexander’s mouth moved from Adrian’s forehead down to his lips, but he stopped millimetres away, letting the heat of his breath mingle with Adrian’s.

​"Tell me I’m not the man, Adrian," Alexander challenged, his voice husky with desperation. "Tell me I’m not the bastard. If you can honestly tell me you don’t love me, I will stop. I will leave this room, and I will only treat you like the secretary who has six months left on his contract."

​Adrian’s breath hitched. Six months. Six months of cold, professional distance, six months of sleepless nights, followed by an empty, lonely freedom. He was exhausted from the fight, weakened by the drug, and utterly undone by Alexander’s vulnerability and absolute clarity.

​He couldn’t lie. He didn’t have the strength.

​"I..." Adrian choked on the word, the confession tasting like shame and sweetness. "I’m scared."

​"I know," Alexander murmured, finally closing the distance between their lips, capturing Adrian’s mouth in a gentle, possessive kiss. It wasn’t the brutal, demanding force of the aphrodisiac-fueled sex, nor the possessive claim of the hospital. This was soft, seeking, and agonizingly tender.

​When they finally broke apart, Adrian was trembling.

​"You’re scared I’ll hurt you again," Alexander whispered, tracing Adrian’s lower lip with his thumb. "And I probably will. But I will always bring you back. And I will always be sorry."

​He pulled back, sitting up completely. The tenderness was replaced by a familiar, powerful focus.

​"Adrian. We need a new rule," Alexander said, his voice firm, establishing a new boundary built on their shared truth. "If you are afraid I am going to hurt you, you can say one word: ’Stop.’ And I will stop immediately. You don’t have to push, you don’t have to run. Just the word. Do you understand?"

​Adrian looked at him, seeing the genuine sincerity of the safety protocol. It wasn’t a contract; it was a plea for trust.

​"And if it’s not fear?" Adrian asked, his voice barely audible. "If I want you... But I’m just fighting my own self-hatred?"

​Alexander smiled, a possessive, dangerously handsome curve of his lips. "Then you let me fight for you, Adrian. You let me love you the way you deserve. And you let me prove that I am not the bastard, but the only man who truly sees you."

​He leaned down and gave Adrian a final, consuming kiss. "Now, I’m going to take a cold shower. When I come back, you’re going to tell me precisely how you want this contract to play out. And you are not allowed to be silent."

​Alexander stood up, grabbed his drink, and walked toward the bathroom.

​Adrian watched the door close, his heart finally surrendering to the realisation: he was not fighting Alexander anymore. He was fighting the terms of his own liberation. He loved Alexander, and that was the greatest captivity of all.

​What are the specific new terms Adrian proposes to Alexander when he returns from his shower, and how does this change their cohabitation?