Too Late for Sorry, Mr. Billionaire (Chasing my Wife Back) novel Chapter 5

5 /137

THE glass entrance doors of Cole Holdings swung open, and Adrian stepped into the late evening air with a calm precision that mirrored his reputation. The city was awash in the faint glow of streetlights beginning to hum alive, while the final rays of sunset streaked amber against the steel and glass towers.

He carried himself with the kind of composure that commanded silent respect. His tailored suit hugged his lean frame; his polished shoes clicked against the concrete floor with rhythmic authority. In his right hand, he held his sleek black briefcase, the same one he had carried for years, each detail carefully maintained, not a scratch out of place. In his left ear, a single airpod gleamed under the dying sun, pulsing faintly as he dialed a contact on his phone.

His thumb slid effortlessly over the screen, eyes narrowing slightly at the familiar name. The call rang once. Twice. And then—

“Mr. Adrian!”

A voice broke the rhythm of the evening. Adrian stilled mid-step, recognizing the tone. He turned, eyes sharp but softened by familiarity.

Peter hurried across the granite steps, slightly breathless from trying to catch up. He clutched a folder tight to his chest, his tie loosened, betraying a day’s worth of exhaustion.

“Peter,” Adrian greeted, his voice even, a touch distracted as his phone continued to ring faintly in his ear. “You sound like a man chasing shadows. What is it?”

Peter stopped in front of him, taking a moment to compose himself.

“Just the final set of documents you asked me to review. I wanted to confirm if you will need them at tomorrow’s board session. There are figures inside that may stir questions, and I thought it better to prepare your responses ahead of time.”

Adrian’s gaze softened for a fleeting second, he valued Peter’s diligence, he always did.

“Always two steps ahead. That is why I keep you close.” He shifted the briefcase in his hand, free fingers drumming lightly against it. “Leave them on my desk. I will go over them tonight.”

Peter nodded, relief flooding his expression.

“Of course, sir.” He hesitated a moment longer, as though debating whether to say more. Then he gave a small, respectful incline of his head. “Safe trip home, Mr. Adrian.”

Adrian’s lips curved into the faintest semblance of a smile.

“Good night, Peter.”

Satisfied, Peter turned and made his way back toward the entrance, his silhouette soon swallowed by the revolving doors.

Adrian exhaled quietly, returning his attention to the call in his ear. Just as he began moving again, weaving through the dimly lit parking lot toward his black sedan, the ringing stopped and a soft, melodic voice filled his ear.

“Vivian,” he breathed, his tone dropping, smooth and unguarded now that no one else lingered near. A rare warmth slipped into his words. “My day was fine, angel. And how are you?”

The gravel crunched beneath his soles as he approached the car. He shifted the phone closer, his briefcase swaying at his side.

“Mm. I knew you would say that,” he replied softly, listening intently. A low chuckle escaped his chest, startling even him with how natural it sounded.

“Well, I’m just clearing my desk. Work had me chained longer than I intended.”

The sedan gleamed under the lot’s fluorescent lights. Adrian reached it in stride, pressing the unlock button with a subtle flick of his thumb. The locks clicked open. With a practiced motion, he opened the back door, slid the briefcase inside, and shut it with finality.