After days—possibly exaggerating—the shoot was over. I changed into my clothes, signed some official contracts my manager would kill me for when he found out about them, and waited for Adelaide. She emerged from her dressing room a few minutes later in sweats, the silver makeup peeking out of her neckline and sleeves.
“Come on, Baddie. Let’s get outta here.”
She allowed me to tuck her hand in mine. I sensed her exhaustion, even as she held her head high. Regal, like always.
In the waiting car, I directed the driver to my apartment.
“Where's your ring?” I asked.
She patted her bag. “In here.”
I held my hand out. “Give it to me.”
Slowly, she complied, taking her ring out of a small, silk pouch and placing it in my palm. I picked up her left hand and slid the ring back to its rightful place, curling her fingers inward to keep it there.
Her lips twisted. “I’ll have to take it off when I shower.”
“That’s fine. I don’t like seeing you without it.” I squeezed her hand. “Did you take the Plan B?”
“I’ll take it tonight. I didn’t want to have to deal with the side effects while I was working today.”
“You still don’t have to. Just sayin’.”
“Shush.”
She sighed, turning to the window.
“I’m taking you to my place, cleaning you, then feeding you. If you argue, I’ll add spanking to the list.”
Her forehead clunked against the glass. “Shut up, Adam.”
But she didn’t argue. I’d take that as a win.