Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4 

Raina's Standpoint.

One week of living with the Vanes felt like a lifetime.

I threw myself into my studies, spending most of my time in the library or my room. But I couldn't avoid family dinners, and every meal was torture.

“Could you pass the salt?” Lucien's voice was neutral, but when our fingers brushed as I handed it to him, I felt a deep sensation soot up my arm.

He jerked back like I had burned him.

Darius cleared his throat. “How are your classes going, Raina?”

“Fine.” I kept my eyes on my plate, hyper aware of both men watching me. “The Gothic Literature essays are challenging.”

“I'm sure they are.” His voice was warmer when he spoke to me than in class. “If you need help with the analysis, I'd be happy to assist.”

Lucien's fork clattered against his plate. “I'm sure Raina can handle her own homework. There's no need for the extra classes, dad.”

I looked up to see them subtly glaring at each other.

“Actually,” I said, desperate to relieve the tension, “I could use help with the Brontë essay.”

Darius smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. “Of course. We can't do that after dinner.”

“I have practice.” Lucien pushed back the table abruptly. “I'll be late.”

He left without looking at me, and I felt sad.

Later that evening, I sat in Darius's study while he explained the symbolism in Jane Eyre. He was a good teacher, but I couldn't bring myself to concentrate.

Every time he leaned closer to point something out, I caught his scent, leaving me intoxicated. And every time his fingers brushed mine as he turned the pages, my skin tingled. It was wrong, so wrong, but I couldn't deny the pull I felt towards him.

“The governess represents the outsider,” he said, his voice low. “Someone who doesn't believe in either world, not servant, not family.”

“Like me,” I whispered without thinking.

He looked up sharply. “Pardon?”

“Nothing. Sorry.”

“Raina,” he set down his pen, giving me his full attention. “You do belong here. This is your home now. Lucien and I are now your family.”

“Is it? Because Lucien can barely look at me, and you…" I trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentence.

“And I what?”

I met his eyes, seeing my confusion reflected there. “I don't know. Sometimes you look at me like you know me.”

Something flickered across his face. “You remind me of your mother.”

“Are you sure that's all about it?”

“What are you talking about?” His eyes blinked with recognition. He knew what I was talking about.

But I couldn't bring myself to say the words, to say my body wanted him each time I was near him. How could I possibly say that I wanted my mom's husband? The Raina I knew would have never even thought of such.

“You know what I'm talking about, Darius. I can see it in your eyes.”

“You smell like her, and you drive me crazy.” He admitted in a small voice. He stood slowly, moving around the desk until he was standing in front of me. I had to tilt my head back to meet his eyes.

“Well, it's not my fault I smell like her.” I shrugged, my voice sharp, though my body protested against it.

Before I could lose my nerve, I stood up, bringing us closer together. Close enough that I could feel his breath on my skin. But as I tried to take a step away from him, his hand grabbed my waist, pulling me closer.

His fingers brushed against my face gently, as though he were seeing it for the first time. His eyes filled with admiration and though I knew this was wrong, I didn't want him to stop touching me.

“You look so much like her. Sometimes, I forget…"

“Forget what?”

“That you're not her.”

Before I could respond, he cupped my face in his hands and kissed me.

It was nothing like Lucien's kisses. Where Lucien was fire and desperation, Darius was devastating. He kissed me like he was drowning, and I was air. When we broke apart, we were both breathing hard.

This can't be happening.

“I'm… I'm sorry,” his voice sounded nothing like him. It was soft, and his eyes were too ashamed to meet mine.

Before I could argue, footsteps echoed in the hallway. Darius moved back to his desk quickly, picking papers with hands that shook slightly.

Lucien appeared in the doorway, still in his practice clothes, his golden hair damp with sweat. His eyes immediately found mine, then flicked to his dad, and he knew.

“Am I interrupting anything?” He questioned with a cocky smile.