The Tycoon's Gutsy Wife

Chapter 30: Handsome Frog

Adeline noticed Darien’s hands clench on the table, his jaw tightening as tension rolled off him like heat from a furnace. The air between him and Mr. Heisenberg thickened until it was almost suffocating. Neither spoke, but the cold stare they exchanged said more than words could.

Darien wouldn’t be sitting here across from his late father’s best friend if he didn’t desperately need help. The hotel project had become a battlefield. Ever since he’d purchased the land through an auction six months ago, powerful men had been circling like vultures, claiming his permit wasn’t legitimate. The plot was prime real estate—a golden piece of property in the heart of New York City and those who lost it to a man his age had never forgiven him.

Now, rumors and bureaucratic threats were strangling the project before it could take off. Mr. Heisenberg was one of the few people with enough influence to untangle that web — and Darien knew it.

"Darien, you’re here," a soft, elegant voice floated down the grand double staircase.

All heads turned.

A woman in a shimmering silver dinner gown descended gracefully, each step slow and deliberate. Her beauty was timeless — the kind that defied age and drew admiration without demanding it.

"Mrs. Heisenberg," Darien greeted, rising from his seat. He leaned in to kiss her cheek politely.

"I’m so sorry for not welcoming you myself," she said with a charming smile. "You know how a lady needs her time to get ready."

"Of course," Darien replied smoothly. "And you look beautiful as always."

Her laughter was warm and musical, and for a brief second, even the old man’s cold demeanor softened. Then Mrs. Heisenberg’s gaze landed on Adeline, who sat quietly beside Darien, her posture perfectly polite but her discomfort visible. She was still trying to recover from the awkward moment earlier — when Mr. Heisenberg had mistaken her for Darien’s wife.

"And this lovely young woman is?" the older woman asked with genuine curiosity.

Before Darien could speak, Mr. Heisenberg interjected, his tone casual but laced with something that made Adeline’s stomach twist. "That’s his wife, Jessica. I’m still surprised you agreed to marry her, Darien, after your rebellious past."

"Jessica," Mrs. Heisenberg repeated fondly, as though tasting a sweet memory. "You’re even prettier than I imagined! Come, give me a hug, dear."

Adeline’s heart sank. She shot Darien a sharp glare, silently demanding an explanation, but he only tilted his head, subtly urging her to play along.

Suppressing a groan, Adeline stood and awkwardly embraced the woman, smiling through her discomfort. "Thank you, Mrs. Heisenberg. You’re very kind."

"Please, call me Marianne," the woman said warmly.

When Adeline sat back down, Darien finally cleared his throat. "Uncle, I came here because I need your help with something. The hotel—"

Mr. Heisenberg lifted a wrinkled hand, smiling faintly. "Darien, you’re in my house now. We have an unspoken rule—no business talk at the dining table."

Darien’s lips pressed into a thin line, irritation flashing in his eyes. He gave a curt nod and reached for his cutlery.

Dinner was a quiet but elegant affair. The table gleamed under a chandelier, silverware shining against porcelain plates. The food was exquisite; roasted duck with herbs, creamy mashed potatoes, and red wine that smelled like money and age. Adeline barely tasted a thing.

She smiled politely as the Heisenbergs exchanged small talk with Darien about New York, London, and his late father. While Mrs. Heisenberg engaged Adeline in small marriage talks while Darien remained infuriatingly silent.

By the time dessert was served, she was convinced she’d never hated anyone as much as she hated him right now.

When dinner ended, Darien tried once again. "Uncle, about the hotel—"

Mr. Heisenberg waved him off, smiling pleasantly. "Tomorrow, Darien. You’ve both just arrived from New York. Get some rest."

"This is important—"

"How long do you plan to stay in London?" the old man interrupted.

"Two weeks."

"Perfect. We can talk any other day. Christopher!" he called to the butler. "Take their luggage to the room you arranged for them."

Adeline’s head snapped up.

’Room?’

Darien’s expression darkened. "We already planned to stay at a hotel, Uncle. I didn’t want to keep you waiting, which is why we came here directly."

"Nonsense," Mr. Heisenberg said, brushing it off. "You can’t stay at a hotel when you have family here. This mansion has more rooms than it needs. Christopher, please show them to their quarters."

The butler gave a respectful nod and began carrying their bags upstairs.

Adeline’s pulse quickened. One room. With Darien. Of course.

"Go and rest now," Mr. Heisenberg said, patting Darien’s shoulder. "Tomorrow will be a busy day."

Darien gave a stiff nod and guided Adeline toward the grand staircase. When they reached their assigned room, Christopher dropped their luggage inside and closed the door quietly behind them.

The silence that followed was deafening.

"Why didn’t you correct him? Why didn’t you tell your uncle I’m not your wife? Do you know how embarrassing it was being called Jessica through an entire dinner?"

Darien leaned against the wall, unbothered, a lazy smirk tugging at his lips.

"And why didn’t you say no when he insisted we share a room?" she pressed, voice rising. "You and I both know there’s nothing going on between us, so why did you let that happen?"

Darien tilted his head slightly, studying her with quiet amusement. "You look adorable when you’re pretending to be angry," he said at last.

Her jaw dropped. "Pretending?"

He shrugged, the smirk deepening. "Of course. I’m handsome, a billionaire, and your future business partner. I’m sure you’re secretly thrilled we’re sharing a room."

Adeline gaped at him. "Thrilled?" she repeated, incredulous.

"Yes. Most women would be," he said matter-of-factly, stepping closer. His cologne—something dark and expensive—filled the air between them.

Adeline folded her arms, her patience hanging by a thread. "Oh, right. Because you’re God’s gift to women."

"I didn’t say that," he murmured, a glint of humor in his eyes.

"You didn’t need to."

She looked up at him, feigning sweetness, then smiled innocently. She wanted to curse him out but she still needed him. She bit her tongue, fighting the urge to do so.

"Indeed, you’re handsome. As handsome as a frog on a strict diet."