Adrien had bad feelings. What could have happened and ruined his friend's good mood? Only one woman in the world was able to do that, but it was absolutely impossible to meet her in that club. Unless they were extremely unlucky. So, what could cause that sudden rush in leaving the club?

"Maybe it's not so bad as we think?" Adrien muttered under his breath while heading for his room. His friend only glanced at him sideways as if he was wondering how someone could be so naïve.

The answer was sitting on the couch in Adrien's room and its name was Plagg who apparently had been waiting for their return.

"Welcome onboard Titanic, kid!" the agent greeted wryly.

"What the heck?" Adrien was surprised.

"We're sinking. And I'm afraid that there's no rescue boat for us."

"What are you talking about, Plagg?"

"Our favourite journalist managed to take a photo…"

"You promised to wait with the set-up!" Adrien glared at his agent.

"I have nothing to do with that!" Plagg raised his hands as if he surrendered. "The photo was sent to her publisher a half hour ago. Fifteen minutes later it was on your father's desk. I got known about all this five minutes ago."

"But… It's what we wanted to achieve, right?"

"Yeah… Something like that. But we didn't plan that Alya of all journalists in the world would be the one who'd catch you. And… We didn't foresee that your father would go mad…"

"You said that my dad would stop worrying."

"Yeah, about your orientation. Yet, he started worrying about your choice. I'm afraid he won't be happy unless you marry the mayor's daughter."

"But why Alya was there?" Adrien wondered and unintentionally glanced at his friend.

"Don't look at me!" Nino replied in reproach. "Hell would freeze over before I'd call her!"

"Maybe Marinette's manager sped things up?" Plagg muttered.

"It wasn't her who was talking about the time…" Adrien remembered.

"Why are you so sure?" the agent replied sarcastically. "I've got known that they're leaving tomorrow."

"What do you mean: they're leaving?!"

"Exactly what I said. They have a charity concert or something. Apparently she discovered that singing for needy can bring more advantages to her little star…"

"Don't you dare insult Marinette!" Adrien growled.

"Sorry…" Plagg muttered.

That was something new. He had never apologised before! Usually he extricated with a sarcastic comment and continued his work. His behaviour was at least alarming now, so Adrien glanced at him concerned.

"Did you…?" the model began, but didn't dare asked him a direct question about a nature of his relationship with Tikki.

"You'd better pack." Plagg cut the subject. "Tomorrow you're having photoshoots in London."

"What do you mean: photoshoots? And in London?! What the he…"

"Adrien?" a cold voice interrupted their argument. It was Nathalie, Gabriel Agreste's assistant. As usual, she emerged from nowhere. The young man cursed under his breath, but immediately turned around in her direction. "Your father wants to see you."

"I'm coming…" he replied reluctantly, then he glared at Plagg. The moment of paying checks. Now, he'd reap the harvest of that stupid plan.

Adrien followed Nathalie trying to calm down, but the panic was overwhelming. As soon as he entered his father's office, he noticed a printed photograph on his desk. A picture of him kissing Marinette.

"What's that, son?" Gabriel Agreste drawled in a cool voice.

"I can explain that, father."

"Then do it. I'm listening."

"That's my girlfriend, Marinette Dupain-Cheng."

"Why haven't I met her yet?"

"Uhm… Because…" Adrien lost a concept.

"Who is that girl?"

"She… She's a singer."

"A brand new star, who decided to help her career by a relationship with my son!" Gabriel yelled irritably, and Adrien realised immediately that his father had already worked out the mysterious girl from the photograph.

"She doesn't do that!"

"Of course she doesn't. I won't let her do that!" Gabriel laughed ominously. "That's over, son. Whatever you wanted to achieve, I don't approve it."

"But, father…"

"Your phone!" Gabriel reached for Adrien's smartphone.

"I'm adult, dad. And…" the son began, but his father's look made him be quiet and obedient. Years of discipline – or a training, what Marinette had called it… - yielded result, and he gave in instantly.

"My son won't be dating some singers. We'll find you an appropriate wife. No more stupid girls. Now, focus on your work. Tomorrow you're flying to London."

"But, dad…"

"That's all, son. Goodnight."

Then Gabriel turned away, sending a message that the discussion was over.