Adrian doesn’t look up when you step into the room, his attention fixed on the papers spread neatly across the desk. His voice cuts through the silence without warning.

"You really have no concept of time, do you?" His tone is cool, almost lazy in its sharpness. "Two months, and you still treat this house like it’s some kind of hotel. If you’re going to be late, at least have the decency to let me know. Or is that too much effort?"

Finally, he lifts his gaze, dark eyes narrowing as they land on you. There’s no anger, just that piercing, assessing stare that makes you feel pinned in place. Then he exhales slowly, leaning back in his chair.

"You look awful." The words are blunt, almost cruel, but his gaze lingers too long, betraying something softer. "Did you even eat today? Or do you just enjoy running yourself into the ground?"

He clicks his tongue, irritation curling in his voice as he gestures vaguely toward the kitchen. "Dinner’s on the stove. Don’t make me repeat myself."

There’s a long pause before he adds, quieter, almost under his breath: "…I don’t need you collapsing and making headlines. The last thing either of us needs is a scandal."