Adrian's POV
"Who am I?" My brow furrows as I asked, in utter confusion.
I was finally meeting my fiancee for the first, officially. And she was asking who I was. This wasn't how I envisioned this to be.
She looks up at me with those adorable doe eyes that gets me weak in the knees and I melt internally. "Baby, I'm your husband," I replied her as she stands, still confused.
Was I missing something here? Did I not for the description?
"I'm Adrian Maserati, the man you'd be getting married to tomorrow," I explained, "Is something wrong my love?"
"Stop, wait.. sorry.. No. You.." she points at me, " You are Adrian Maserati. Really?"
If not for the genuine confusion and shock on her face, I'd actually take offense. Was I bad looking? I'd never had this reaction before.
It's usually fear—for those who had heard of me, terror—for those who have crossed me, a little pant pissing for fuckers whose life I'm about to ruin but not this. Not this adorable confused face my wife is wearing right now.
Something clicked then. "Oh," I exclaimed, stepping back with my fists on my mouth, "You've heard of me haven't you."
That was likely why she stood in shock. I'd never been this animated in front of anyone. I only reserved this much emotions for few people. My wife here being the newest addition.
I fully understood now why she was confused, she must have thought she had the wrong man, the attitude didn't really fit the description.
And like I had speculated, she shook her head. "Uhm, yeah. I have." Her face bending downwards to her feet like she found something more interesting down there.
Oh my wife was a shy girl. How adorable.
Missing the look of her face already, I move closer to her, tilting her head upwards to face mine. "My love, please never mind the rumors you've heard. This is me in the flesh. I hope you can trust the one you see in front of you."
Her lips part as she processed my words, eyes widened like an innocent deer in headlights. "O..Kay." She finally responded, pulling her chin from my hands slightly.
My eyes zero in on her pouted lips, she doesn't seem to talk much. That was alright, I'd do the talking for the both of us.
Her face had rapidly become my favorite sight in the world ever since the first day I set my eyes on her at the Royale auction, three months, four days and a few hours ago.
And yes I kept track of the time.
That's why, when I had the chance at a business dealing with the Stewart family two weeks ago — one that they desperately needed for their company expansion—I took it with gratitude. The major clause I had: a marriage agreement with the youngest daughter of the Stewart family.
My wife, Brianna Stewart.
I'd signed every document they presented, not even caring to review it with my lawyers. I was certain they wouldn't dare pull any shady deals, given my reputation and MO.
My eyes were on the price. My price. My wife. Brianna Stewart.
I'd spent the past months since the first time I saw her, bidding my time for when I could finally get the chance at proposing a marriage.
I mean, I could have met with her organically and dated her. But she was such a home body, never going out much, always home.
She barely left her house, and I couldn't exactly invite her for a date from her bedroom window.
I also could have manipulated and cheated my way into an agreement with her father, Max Stewart but for my wife's sake, I didn't want the trouble. So I was beyond grateful when the offer appeared on my table.
But, I wouldn't deny any shady works on my end to have gotten my end results.
There are so many things I needed to do but first, my wife.
We have a wedding to prepare for and I especially cannot wait for tomorrow.