"Bastard. Asshole. Cold hearted son of a bitch." Adrian stared blankly at the gorgeous woman standing in front of him. Her insults didn't faze him in the slightest. Please. He'd heard worse. A lot worse. She wasn't the first woman to throw a tantrum in his hotel room, and she definitely wouldn't be the last. "You done?" he asked, completely unbothered, as he nonchalantly cleaned his ear with his pinky. "The door's over there." Her face, whatever her name was flushed red with rage. Emily? Erica? Eh, who cared. "F*ck you!" she snapped, voice shrill with humiliation and leftover heat from the night before. Adrian let out a tired sigh. Predictable. This kind of meltdown was practically a tradition after a one-night stand. He raked a hand down his face and muttered, "Just go, Eina..." Seriously, what were these women thinking? That he was looking for love? From a one-night stand? Jesus Christ. This wasn't about feelings. It never was. Men didn't fall in love with women they met at midnight in a club. One-night stands were exactly what the name implied, one freaking night. A fleeting fix for lust. Only naive girls believed they could turn it into some kind of happily-ever-after. What was this, a cheesy romcom? Don't blame Adrian. He was just being a man. Men had needs. Women satisfied them. That was it. End of story. "You arrogant, self-absorbed piece of shit!" she snarled. "My name's not Eina. It's Amanda. Amanda, you goddamn prick!" "Erina, Amanda... whatever." Adrian shrugged. "And once again, if you're done throwing a fit, kindly see yourself out. Thanks for last night, by the way. You weren't half bad." A smirk tugged at his lips as the memory flashed through his mind. Yeah... Amanda had left a few scratches on his back. Passionate ones. If he had to rate her performance, he'd probably give her an eight. Maybe an eight-point-five if he was being generous. No regrets about meeting her at that club last night. None at all. "You prick. It's Amanda!" she screeched again, her voice practically shattering glass. Then, with a middle finger raised high in the air, she stormed out, slamming the door behind her, leaving Adrian alone in the hotel room, amused and utterly unaffected. Adrian shook his head, amused by the woman's meltdown. God, the delusion. It was almost funny how every woman who slept with him thought what they had was more than just a one-night stand. As if he'd somehow whispered forever in her ear between the sheets. Sorry, sweetheart. But Adrian wasn't that kind of man. He didn't believe in love. Never had. Never would. Only fools fell for fairytales. And Adrian Williams was no fool. Women flocked to him for a reason and it wasn't just the face or the body, though God knew he'd been blessed in both departments. No, what really drew them in was power. That sharp mind of his, the one that had built an empire from dust, after his father's company collapsed and dragged their once-glamorous family name through the mud. That was when everything changed. The woman who used to call herself his mother, the same woman who once kissed his scraped knees and called him her world, walked out without a second glance. Said she refused to rot on the streets with a failed husband and a useless son. That day, Adrian stopped believing in anything remotely warm or soft. Love? Family? It was all bullshit. The betrayal, the abandonment, the ache of watching his father slowly fall apart, it carved him into something colder. Sharper. He traded his dreams of becoming a photographer for boardrooms and bottom lines. Late nights. Brutal deals. Calculated risks. He buried the boy who believed in beauty and became the man who only trusted logic and numbers. And it worked. Adrian turned the ruins of his father's textile and furniture company into a multi-sector empire that now dominated electronics across Southeast Asia. He rebuilt the Williams name into something feared. Respected. Untouchable. He could only imagine his mother's face now, knowing the empire she walked away from was worth more than her precious pride. So, no. Women didn't love him for who he was. They loved the package. The wealth. The power. The status. And Adrian never felt a damn thing for any of them. Not once had his heart skipped a beat. Not once had a woman made him pause. Every smile, every touch, every whispered promise, it all came with a price tag or a hidden agenda. To this day, not a single woman had ever said his name, Adrian Williams, without expecting something in return. And until one did? His heart would stay exactly where it belonged. Frozen. *** Knock. Knock. Knock-knock. "Come in," Adrian said coolly, eyes never leaving the stack of reports in his hands. The door creaked open. "Mr. Adrian, your father, uh, Mr. Williams, is here. He's waiting outside," Bianca, his personal secretary, announced softly. At that, Adrian finally looked up. Bianca stood there in her usual pristine blouse and pencil skirt, fingers clasped nervously in front of her. Her voice was as gentle as ever, but what she'd just said made his brain pause for a beat. Mr. Williams? His brows furrowed slightly. That was... unexpected. Dean Williams rarely showed up unannounced. In fact, he never did. If his father wanted to see him, he usually called first, sometimes days in advance. This sudden visit felt off. Why is he here? Adrian wondered, a flicker of unease brushing the back of his neck. "Um, Mr. Adrian?" Bianca's voice pulled him out of his thoughts. "Should I let him in?" Adrian blinked, then nodded. "Yeah. Send him in." Bianca gave a slight bow and turned to leave. As she walked toward the door, Adrian's gaze unintentionally followed. Well, he was human after all. Eyes were made to see. And Bianca's figure? Yeah, that was a nice view. The curve of her hips in that skirt didn't go unnoticed. Not that it mattered. She wasn't his type. Pretty? Sure. Smart? Absolutely. But Adrian never mixed business with pleasure and especially not with someone as competent and efficient as Bianca. He needed her in his office, not in his bed. Still, he allowed himself that one second of appreciation... then snapped his focus back to the door. His father was here. And Adrian had a feeling this wasn't just a casual drop-in. He had to admit it. Bianca had the kind of body most women would kill for, and most men secretly fantasized about. Curves in all the right places. Legs that went on forever. A waist so perfectly sculpted it could've been carved by the gods. If Bianca ever bothered to show it off, she'd have men dropping to their knees just to carry her coffee. But no. She never played that game. Thick-rimmed glasses always perched on her dainty nose. Her hair? Always tied back in a boring, no nonsense bun. And her wardrobe? Buttoned up blouses and long skirts. Not a trace of the skin tight, low cut outfits his previous secretaries used to wear like a uniform. Bianca didn't flirt with him. Not once. She didn't "accidentally" brush her hand against his arm, or drop files just to bend over in front of him. She didn't linger when they were alone. Didn't lick her lips or bat her lashes. In fact, she didn't act like she gave a damn who he was at all. Which was... confusing. And, strangely enough, kind of impressive. ***