The headache gradually consumed him; his eyes squinted open as the sun's rays hit him directly. Looking around, he realized he was not in his own apartment, but in Cedric's, his best friend's.
He explored his head for any injuries but found himself unharmed, except for the awareness of having drunk excessively. Adrien sat up in bed and noticed that his clothes had been replaced with a white bathrobe. Although his memories were hazy, a sense of unease washed over him, as if he had committed some offense under the influence of alcohol.
He tried to delve into his memories, trying to reconstruct the events of the previous night. Fragments of images and sounds intertwined in his mind, but nothing clear emerged. The mystery of the situation bothered him, but the hangover and mental confusion made his task difficult.
The sudden noise of the door interrupted his thoughts. Turning his head, he saw Cedric, elegantly dressed in a white shirt, dark blue pants, a blazer of the same color, and brown leather shoes.
"Good morning. I made breakfast, in case you want to eat something." Cedric entered the room and placed Adrien's phone on the desk. "It was dead, so I put it on charge and it's ready to use."
"Thank you so much. I don't know what I would do without you." Adrien smiled slightly, aware that his words only reflected friendship.
"Well, I'm going to work. See you for lunch."
Adrien nodded. "By the way, did I say or do anything strange yesterday?"
"Other than agreeing you're in love with a jerk, no, nothing else," Cedric assured him.
Adrien nodded and wished him "good luck" before watching him leave. Despite Cedric's statement, he still felt somewhat confused. His thoughts went back to the previous night, and although he tried to put them behind him, a persistent unease prompted him to inquire further into what happened. Was there something else Cedric wasn't telling him? The uncertainty prompted him to carefully examine every detail of the few memories he still held, yet there was nothing to give him a proper answer.
In the end, Adrien stopped trying to remember anything, after all, Cedric was his best friend, there was no reason why he would want to hide something from him.
Removing that cloud of thoughts from his mind, Adrien got out of bed and looked for some headache pills. After taking it, he went back to sleep comfortably.
...----------------...
In Italy.
Carlo was in his office, surrounded by the latest notes on corrupt officials. Though focused on his work, his mind repeatedly wandered to that annoying person: Adrien Gautier. Adrien had left without saying goodbye, and since then, his attitude had turned distant, spending most days with someone else. Unable to bear the teenage behavior any longer, Carlo blocked him directly. Now, however, with the workload upon him, he decided to unblock him and make a call.
The phone rang for several seconds, unusual as Adrien usually answered immediately. Carlo didn't think much of it and continued to wait until the call connected.
"Adrien, hello," he greeted after clearing his throat, inexplicably nervous, perhaps due to the expectation of an explosive response.
["Hello, Adrien can't come to the phone right now."]
The unfamiliar voice of a man made him frown, and he unconsciously squeezed the pen he held in his free hand.
"Where is he?" he questioned authoritatively. On the other end, the tap could be heard turning on and off about three seconds later.
["Asleep, it's late in Miami, you know, plus he's tired, today was very intense."]
The last words were too suggestive, irritating Carlo even more.
"Put him on, it's urgent."
Although his tone of voice was moderate, according to him, on the other end of the phone you could perceive how authoritarian and irritated he was at that moment. Cedric raised his eyebrows at the tremendous idiot he barely knew.
["He's asleep, but if you don't believe me, let me send you proof, don't hang up."]
Although Carlo wanted to hang up, he was still eager to see this alleged proof. He took the cell phone away from his ear and looked at the screen intently. Minutes later, a message appeared in the notification bar.
Without hesitation, Carlo opened the message and found a photograph of Adrien. He was only wearing a robe, open at the chest, revealing his soft skin and nipples. He slept peacefully while hugging a pillow. His pink lips were slightly parted, and his long, dark lashes cast a shadow over his eyes. His jet-black hair was messy, covering part of his forehead.
However, the surprise didn't end there. In the same picture, the person who had answered him was also present. With light brown hair, almond eyes, and curly eyelashes, he wore a smile, also dressed in a white bathrobe.
Carlo's brow furrowed, and a grim expression spread across his face. The voice of the person on the other end repeating the word "hello" seemed distant. Without thinking twice, Carlo hung up, but the confusion and intrigue continued to plague him.
The photograph raised more questions than answers, and the presence of that unknown person added an element of mystery. Carlo's mind raced with speculation as he tried to understand the situation. What was going on with Adrien? Who was that other person in the picture, and why were they together in intimacy? The need for answers prompted Carlo to consider further action, triggering a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions within him.
...----------------...
Miami.
Adrien got up late and, after showering and changing, left the room. Although the sun was about to set, Cedric had not yet returned. Heading to the kitchen, he cut up some fruit and arranged it on two plates: one for himself and one he placed in the fridge, along with a note and a smile. After eating and leaving his plate in the dishwasher, he left the apartment.
He took a taxi and went straight to his own apartment. Upon arriving, his secretary was in the living room, apparently handling the day's affairs. Adrien, his throat dry and a residual headache, glanced at him before heading to the kitchen.
The secretary approached with slow steps, aware of Adrien's explosive temper. After a moment of evident nervousness, he tried to communicate something important. Adrien's expression turned cold, and he ordered him to speak.
"Sir," the secretary mumbled awkwardly, feeling Adrien's icy gaze. He was afraid of how he might react.
"It's Carlo, isn't it?" Adrien asked, more like a statement. The tension in the room was palpable. The secretary, nervous, had to report quickly and retreat.
"Yes, sir," he replied, feeling the weight of Adrien's gaze. "It's just that, well, Mr. Carlo..."
Adrien cut him off coldly. "Get to the point."
The secretary gathered his courage, turned, and handed over some photographs he had printed and placed in a yellow envelope. Avoiding the tablet to avoid past incidents, he hurried out of the apartment.
Adrien left his half-full glass on the counter and opened the envelope. Before taking out the photos, he took a few deep breaths. His face remained cold, but his eyes reflected deep sadness. Tears streamed down his face as he saw the images of Carlo with another woman.
He stroked the photograph of Carlo's face with an ironic smile. He felt stupid and naive. A painful laugh escaped his lips as he put away the photos.
"You're an idiot, Adrien," he muttered, his voice cracking.
From the other side of the door, the secretary sighed with relief upon hearing no breaking glass. However, Adrien's lack of anger unnerved him. At the reveal of the images of Carlo Mancini kissing that nurse, he'd expected an explosive reaction. The concern lingered in his mind, unable to fully leave his body.
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