Fake Date, Real Fate-Chapter 306: Told You I’d Be Lightning

ISABELLA’S POV

My brain is still catching up to his words.

Go out.

Now.

At nearly two in the morning.

There’s a strange weight to the way he says it — not a casual suggestion, not even a request. It’s the kind of invitation that feels more like a move in a game he’s already decided he’s going to win.

A reckless part of me wants to throw caution to the wind, to say yes and pull a coat over my pajamas this very second. But the rational part of me—small, tired, but still clinging to authority—is not done yet.

For now.

"What time is it?" I ask, grasping for something sensible. Anything that sounds like a reason instead of an excuse. Anything to avoid admitting that I am genuinely considering getting into a car with a man I met hours ago in a park because my best friend thought it would be funny.

There’s a beat of silence.

Not hesitation. Consideration.

When he speaks again, I can almost picture it—the faint curve of his mouth, the confidence. The audacity.

"1:52, princess," he says. "And counting."

I bite back a curse.

This man is ridiculous.

And yet—

I am seriously considering it.

I drag a hand down my face, trying to shake the sleep-fog from my thoughts, trying to remember that this is how every terrible decision starts.

He’s a stranger.

He could be a serial killer.

He could be a creep.

He could be a stalker.

But it seems like Aria trusts him.

And he didn’t act like one earlier. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝚠𝕖𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝕖𝚕.𝚌𝗼𝗺

In a way.

"You’re insane," I mutter. "I’m not going out with some man at two in the morning."

There’s a pause on the other end.

Not the tense kind. Not the offended kind.

The amused kind.

I can hear it in the way his breath shifts, like he’s smiling and trying not to let it bleed into his voice.

"You’re right," he says smoothly. "Far too dangerous."

I relax a fraction—

Then he continues.

"Better idea," he adds. "Come outside and tell me to my face that you’re not going out with me right now."

My heart stutters.

I freeze, phone pressed to my ear, every nerve suddenly awake.

"...Come outside?" I repeat slowly.

"Yes."

My heart thuds like a drum. Is the man insane? Or just insanely charming?

Why am I finding this charming?

Am I going crazy?

Or is he making me go crazy?

"You can’t be serious," I whisper, my fingers clenching around the pillow. "It’s the middle of the night. People are sleeping. And—and I’m in my pajamas."

Well. In terms of pajamas, the oversized T-shirt dad claimed he bought me himself.

He laughs. Soft, but with a rough edge that sets fire to my spine.

"I told you to leave the thinking to me," he says. "Just come outside and tell me whatever it is you want to tell me."

My breath catches.

No.

He can’t be—

Slowly—so slowly—I crawl across the bed and push the curtain aside just enough to peer out onto the dimly lit street outside.

A sleek black car idles at the curb, headlights dimmed to amber slits.

And leaning against the driver’s side door—

My heart forgets how to beat.

Even from here, I feel it—the gravity, the pull.

He’s wearing a dark overcoat, hands shoved into his pockets, looking less like a man who just drove across town and more like a predator waiting for the moon to hit the right angle.

His phone is pressed to his ear.

His eyes—piercing even from this distance—lock onto mine instantly.

Our second encounter today.

And not one of them has been normal, or sane, or anything close to safe.

But I can’t look away.

He lifts his chin slightly in greeting.

Then his voice comes through my phone, low and satisfied.

"Told you I’d be lightning."

"You’re out of your mind," I manage, the words thin and reedy. "Absolutely certifiable."

His laugh, low and husky, floats through the receiver. It’s like a warm current in the cold night air, and it makes something knot in my stomach. A sensation both unfamiliar and intoxicating.

"Is that a no, then, princess?" he asks, his voice laced with amusement. A challenge, pure and simple.

The audacity of it. The sheer, unyielding audacity. And the complete, utter certainty in his tone that I would go out there.

He has no idea who he’s dealing with. I don’t cave to challenges. I don’t run out to meet strange men at 2 AM, no matter how good their voice sounds or how much my body seems to betray me whenever he’s near.

"I don’t know!" I snap, pulling the phone away from my ear as if his voice might possess me through the speaker even though he is literarily standing out there staring at me like a god. "Do you think I’m crazy? It’s dark, and my dad will probably shoot you once he sees you lurking around outside."

"Is that a serious concern?" he asks, a hint of concern overriding the amusement. "Because I can be very discreet."

"That’s not the point!" I hiss, my cheeks flaring again

My grip tightens around the phone. "Wait."

"How... how do you know where I live?" I whisper, the realization finally catching up to my adrenaline.

There’s no hesitation on his end. No dodging.

"Aria," he says simply.

I exhale sharply. Of course. Of course.

"I’m going to kill her," I mutter under my breath, dropping my forehead into my pillow. Slowly. Deliberately. With intent.

A soft sound comes through the line. A quiet huff of laughter, low and restrained, like he hadn’t meant to let it slip.

"If you want me to leave," he says then, calm and unpressured, "say the word. I will."

The offer catches me off guard. Not dramatic. Not defensive. Just... there. Waiting.

I swallow.

"No," I say immediately—then wince. "I mean—"

Silence.

Not heavy. Not tense. Patient.

I take a breath. Then another.

"No," I repeat, quieter. "Don’t─" leave...

This time, he laughs. Fully. Warm and unmistakably pleased.

"Easy," he murmurs. "Breathe, love."

I do. Or at least, I try to.

"Take your time," he continues. "I’m not going anywhere."

A pause. Then, with unmistakable amusement—

"Ten minutes," he adds.

I splutter. "Ten— Adrien, I’m—"

"Ten minutes," he repeats gently. "Or I start wondering if you fell asleep on me."

My heart does something stupid in my chest.

"Fine," I grumble. "Ten minutes."

"Good," he says, satisfaction threading his voice. "I’ll be waiting, Isabella," he says, his voice dropping an octave, vibrating against my ear through the speaker.

The call ends before I can overthink it.

The silence rushes in.

I sit there for a second, phone pressed to my ear long after it’s gone dead, heart thudding so loud I’m convinced it might wake the entire house.

Ten minutes.

I swing my legs off the bed.

"I’m really going to kill Aria," I whisper to the empty room.

And then I move.