Crossing the line

A sharp noise cracked from deeper inside the dark house.

Rhea froze.

“Did you hear that?” Rhea whispered, her voice tight with unease. “Because I just— I swear I heard something.”

“I didn't hear anything," Alaric lied.

Rhea frowned.

"No, I'm serious. It sounded like somebody moved."

The noise came again.

This time it was louder.

Rhea's head turned instinctively toward the dark hallway.

Alaric felt his jaw tighten. Matt was still inside. If Rhea saw him, everything would unravel—questions, accusations, truths he wasn’t ready to give. He had seconds.

Rhea hesitated, her gaze fixed on the hallway. Another second and she’d start walking.

Alaric acted.

His hand shot up, fingers wrapping firmly around the back of her neck. Before she could draw breath, he yanked her forward and crashed his mouth against hers.

Rhea’s eyes flew open in shock.

It was meant to be a distraction, nothing more. But the second their mouths collided, Alaric felt the dam break. The memory of that night flooded him. All the restraint he had clung to for days shattered in an instant. His hand tightened on her neck as his tongue pushed past her lips, claiming her mouth with raw need.

He had known who she was the moment he saw her at the villa. He had sat through that excruciating dinner pretending she was just Melissa’s sharp-tongued daughter, shoving down every vivid recollection of her moans, the way she had begged him to fuck her harder, how perfectly she had taken him. He had driven her in silence, telling himself he would maintain control no matter how fiercely the obsession clawed at him. She was off-limits. Forbidden. His girl's daughter.

He groaned into her mouth, the sound deep and guttural, and hauled her tighter against him, one arm banding around her waist like iron. His tongue stroked deeper, filthier, claiming every inch of her as if he could fuck her through the kiss alone.

Rhea pushed hard against his chest, their lips parting with a wet sound. A thin, glistening strand of saliva stretched between their mouths for a heated second, connecting them even as she gasped for air.

She tried to talk, but he didn’t let her finish.

He pulled her back in, kissing her even deeper.

Rhea’s mind blanked.

The dinner with Noah, her mother’s cutting words, the guilt, everything dissolved under the scorching assault of Alaric’s mouth. Heat exploded low in her belly, slick and throbbing, just like that first night he’d ruined her. Her pussy clenched with raw, desperate want. Her nipples tightened into aching peaks against his chest. A broken, needy moan slipped from her throat as her fingers curled into his wet shirt, no longer pushing. Instead, they clutched, pulling him closer.

Then reality slammed back into Rhea like ice water.

She tore her mouth away from his with a sharp gasp, shoving hard against his chest as she stumbled backward. For a moment, neither of them moved. Her chest rose and fell violently while she stared at him, completely speechless. The taste of him still lingered on her tongue, her lips felt swollen, and her whole body trembled with the heat that pulsed through her veins despite the shock crashing over her.

Across from her, Alaric stood completely still, his breathing heavier than usual. His jaw flexed, and something dark flashed across his face before it vanished just as quickly.

It wasn’t regret, she realized. It was control.

He had lost it for a single second, and now there was no taking it back. The silence stretched between them, heavy and dangerous.

Then her phone rang, the sharp sound shattering the moment. Rhea flinched, her gaze snapping toward the table where Noah’s name lit up the screen. Instantly, everything changed. The kiss, the heat, the confusion, and the unbearable attraction all dissolved under a much crueler reality. Noah—her boyfriend, now her half-brother.

Her stomach twisted painfully.

Without saying a word, she grabbed the phone and switched it off, then walked away. Alaric watched her disappear down the hallway, and a moment later a bedroom door slammed shut. He stood there for several long seconds before dragging a hand down his face.

“Fuck,” he muttered roughly.

He had spent days avoiding her, avoiding touching her, avoiding looking at her for too long, and tonight he had crossed the one line he should never have crossed.

The next morning, Rhea woke up feeling as though she hadn’t slept at all. Her eyes burned and her head throbbed as the clock on the nightstand mocked her. She had finally drifted off sometime after four, but every time she closed her eyes she saw the same thing: Alaric, his mouth on hers, and the way she had almost kissed him back. The memory made her stomach twist again, so she pushed herself out of bed before she could dwell on it any longer.

Thankfully she still had clothes at the villa, and the last thing she wanted was to go home and face her mother.

Not today, maybe not tomorrow either.

By the time she finished getting ready, the house was silent—no footsteps, no voices, nothing. A wave of relief loosened something tight in her chest. Good. He was gone.

She grabbed her bag and headed out, the silence following her all the way to the living room. Then she stopped short.

Alaric was sitting on the couch with a mug of coffee in one hand, looking completely at ease, as though he hadn’t turned her entire world upside down the night before. Rhea’s breath caught in her throat. For a second neither of them spoke. Then he looked up, their eyes met, and heat rushed straight to her face. She looked away first.

“Morning,” he said, his voice calm—too calm.

Rhea tightened her grip on her bag and didn’t answer. She walked straight toward the door, but his next words stopped her.

“I’m taking you to work.”

The statement caught her off guard, not because of what he said but because of how normal he sounded, as if nothing had happened, as if he hadn’t kissed her and she hadn’t spent half the night replaying it.

“No,” she said, reaching for the door handle.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.” She turned then, finally looking directly at him. “I don’t need your help.”

Something unreadable flickered across his face and then disappeared. “Your mother suggested it, not me.”

The mention of Melissa soured her mood instantly, and a bitter laugh escaped her. “Of course she does.”

Alaric stood up, the movement making the room feel smaller. “She’s worried about you. Staying alone in this lonely place won't help.”

Rhea laughed without humor.

“I’m twenty-three, Alaric. Not thirteen.”

His mouth twitched.

“Twenty-three isn't nearly as grown as you think it is.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“You don't know anything.”

“Maybe not,” he said evenly. “But I'm looking at you right now, and you're clearly not okay.”

Rhea’s jaw tightened as the argument with her mother came rushing back.

“You know what?” she said quietly. “I really don’t care. Take her side and paint me like the selfish daughter if it makes you both feel better. Seems to be everyone's favorite version of the story.”

“You should.”

“No.” She pulled the door open. “I shouldn’t.” And this time she walked out before he could stop her.

The morning air was already warm, but Rhea barely felt it as anger carried her forward. Good. Let him stay at the villa. Let him report back to her mother. Let both of them mind their own business for once. She tightened her grip on her bag and pulled out her phone. No signal for a ride.

Wonderful.

She kept walking anyway, stubbornness the only thing she had left.

A few minutes later she checked again. Still nothing. The road stretched endlessly ahead, and the nearest main road was farther than she remembered. Her irritation grew with every passing second. She checked the time and her stomach dropped—if she didn’t find transportation soon, she was going to be late, and being late was the last thing she needed right now.

The low purr of an engine appeared beside her.

Rhea didn’t need to look; she already knew. His sleek black car rolled alongside her, matching her pace. She kept her eyes forward. The driver’s window lowered, but Alaric said nothing, which somehow annoyed her even more. She walked faster. The car matched her speed. She slowed down. The car slowed too.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

A few more steps, and then the passenger door clicked unlocked. Rhea looked at it, then at him. Alaric kept one hand on the steering wheel, his expression infuriatingly calm.

“You done proving your point?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t proving anything.”

“No?”

“No.” She hated that he was right—she looked like she was about ten minutes away from missing work. The silence stretched. She checked the time again. Damn it. Another minute gone.

Alaric glanced toward the road ahead. “If you want to keep walking, keep walking,” he said casually, almost indifferently. “But you’ll be late.”

Rhea glared at him. He waited, patient and certain, as though he already knew what she would do. Which only made her angrier. With an annoyed huff, she yanked the passenger door open and climbed inside. The second the door shut, Alaric pulled away from the curb.

Neither of them spoke. The silence was suffocating. Rhea stared out the window while Alaric focused on the road. Every now and then she became painfully aware of him—the roll of his sleeves, the hand resting on the steering wheel, the faint scent of his cologne, and every single time her mind betrayed her, dragging her back to the pool, back to the kiss, back to the way she had almost melted into him.

Her cheeks burned, so she turned her face farther toward the window, determined not to think about it and determined not to look at him.

The drive passed in tense silence. When Luminar Enterprises finally came into view, relief washed through her. Alaric pulled up near the entrance. Before the car had fully stopped, Rhea reached for the door.

“Rhea.”

She froze. His voice was low and careful. For a second she thought he was going to mention last night, and her pulse jumped. Slowly, she turned. Alaric’s eyes met hers, dark and unreadable.

Then he simply said, “Have a good day.”

Without a word, she got out and slammed the door behind her. She adjusted her bag and started toward the building, but after only a few steps every muscle in her body locked.

Standing near the entrance was a man she knew better than anyone. His hair looked like he’d spent the night running his hands through it, and dark shadows sat beneath his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept at all. As though he’d been waiting.

For her.

Noah.

His gaze found hers instantly.

And from the look on his face, Rhea knew.

He wasn't leaving until she talked to him.