Chapter 3

One Night of Weakness

Elena’s POV

For a long moment, neither of us moved.

The rain continued to fall, soaking the streets around us, while the reporters shouted questions from behind Lucien’s security team.

“Mr. Blackwood! Are you involved with Mrs. Blackwood?”

“Did you know about the divorce?”

“Sir, please answer one question!”

Lucien didn’t even glance at them.

His eyes remained fixed on me.

Impossible to read.

I realized I was still clutching his suit jacket around my shoulders. It smelled faintly of cedarwood and something clean, something comforting. The warmth of it felt strange after the coldness I had endured all night.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered again.

“You’ve apologized enough.”

His voice was calm, almost emotionless.

“But I—”

“You have nothing to apologize for.”

No one had ever said those words to me before.

Not after every argument with Adrian.

Not after every cruel comment from Margaret.

It was always my fault.

I wasn’t patient enough.

I wasn’t elegant enough.

I wasn’t good enough.

Yet this man, who barely knew me, looked at me as if none of it had been my fault.

I didn’t know why that hurt even more.

Lucien opened the car door.

“Get in.”

“I shouldn’t.”

“The reporters won’t stop following you.”

Almost as if to prove his point, another camera flashed in my face.

I flinched.

Lucien stepped closer, blocking me from their view.

His broad shoulders formed a wall between me and the world.

“Please.”

It was the first time he had asked instead of ordered.

Too exhausted to argue, I climbed into the back seat.

He sat beside me, closing the door behind us.

The noise outside disappeared instantly.

Silence filled the car.

The driver pulled away from the hotel while the reporters chased after us for a few seconds before disappearing from view.

I stared out the rain-covered window.

The city lights blurred into streaks of gold.

Everything felt unreal.

Three hours ago, I had been a married woman.

Now I was divorced.

Homeless.

Humiliated.

Completely alone.

“You haven’t eaten.”

Lucien’s voice broke the silence.

I looked at him.

“What?”

“You didn’t touch your dinner.”

I blinked.

How had he noticed something so small?

“I wasn’t hungry.”

“You should eat.”

“I don’t think I could.”

He nodded once and didn’t push the subject.

Most people hated silence.

He seemed comfortable with it.

For several minutes, neither of us spoke.

Finally, curiosity got the better of me.

“Why did you help me?”

He looked straight ahead.

“Because someone should have.”

“That’s not really an answer.”

“No.”

His lips twitched slightly.

“It isn’t.”

Despite everything, I almost smiled.

Almost.

“I always thought you disliked me.”

He turned to look at me.

“What made you think that?”

“You never spoke to me at family gatherings.”

“Neither did anyone else.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“They hated me.”

“And I didn’t.”

The certainty in his voice caught me off guard.

I searched his face, looking for any sign that he was lying.

I found none.

The car stopped outside an elegant hotel overlooking the river.

I frowned.

“This isn’t my apartment.”

“No.”

“I should go home.”

Lucien remained seated.

“Do you have a home to return to?”

The question stole the air from my lungs.

Adrian had changed the locks the moment I signed the divorce papers.

My apartment…

My clothes…

Everything I owned was still inside the Blackwood mansion.

For the first time, I realized I had nowhere to go.

My throat tightened.

Lucien seemed to understand without me saying a word.

“I’ve booked a suite upstairs.”

“I can’t let you pay for me.”

“It’s already done.”

“I’ll repay you.”

“If it makes you feel better.”

His answer was so simple that I couldn’t argue.

We entered through a private entrance, avoiding the main lobby entirely.

The hotel staff greeted Lucien with respectful bows.

No one questioned why I was with him.

The elevator carried us to the top floor.

Neither of us spoke.

Inside the suite, I stopped in disbelief.

It was larger than the house where I had grown up.

Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city.

Fresh flowers sat on the dining table.

A fire crackled quietly in the living room.

It didn’t feel like a hotel.

It felt peaceful.

“I’ll have dry clothes brought up,” Lucien said.

“I don’t want to trouble you.”

“You aren’t.”

A few minutes later, a hotel employee delivered a shopping bag filled with women’s clothes.

I stared at it.

“How did you know my size?”

“I guessed.”

“You guessed perfectly.”

“I notice details.”

For some reason, that answer made my cheeks warm.

I quickly disappeared into the bathroom before he noticed.

The woman staring back at me in the mirror barely looked familiar.

My mascara had run down my face.

My hair clung to my skin.

I looked broken.

Maybe I was.

I changed into the soft sweater and loose pants he’d arranged.

They fit perfectly.

When I stepped back into the living room, Lucien had removed his jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt.

A tray of food sat on the table.

Soup.

Bread.

Tea.

Nothing fancy.

Just comfort.

“I told you I wasn’t hungry.”

“You were wrong.”

I laughed softly.

The sound surprised both of us.

It was the first genuine laugh I’d managed in months.

He pulled out a chair.

“Sit.”

This time, I obeyed.

I ate slowly at first.

Then faster.

Only after finishing half the soup did I realize how starving I actually was.

Lucien pretended not to notice.

When I finished eating, exhaustion settled over me like a heavy blanket.

“I should leave.”

“It’s almost midnight.”

“I’ll find somewhere.”

“You already have.”

He pointed toward the hallway.

“The guest bedroom is yours.”

“And you?”

“I’ll use the other room.”

I hesitated.

“I don’t want people talking.”

“They already are.”

He wasn’t wrong.

By morning, every newspaper would be filled with photos of my public humiliation.

One more rumor hardly seemed important anymore.

Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that staying here was crossing a line.

“I trust you,” I admitted quietly.

The words escaped before I could stop them.

His expression changed almost imperceptibly.

“You shouldn’t.”

“Why?”

“Because men are disappointing.”

“I was married to one.”

“So you know.”

We both fell silent again.

I stood, intending to thank him one last time before going to bed.

Instead, I stumbled.

The emotional exhaustion finally caught up with me.

Before I hit the floor, strong arms wrapped around my waist.

Lucien steadied me effortlessly.

Our faces were suddenly inches apart.

I could feel the warmth of his breath.

His hand remained at the small of my back.

Neither of us moved. Neither of us spoke.

The world outside disappeared.

For the first time in years, I didn’t feel invisible.

Without thinking, I reached up and touched his face.

He didn’t pull away.

Instead, his hand gently brushed a tear from my cheek.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“For what?”

“For breaking apart in front of you.”

His eyes softened.

“You don’t have to be strong tonight, Elena.”

Something inside me shattered.

I rose onto my toes and kissed him.

For one heartbeat, he stayed perfectly still.

Then he kissed me back.

And in that single reckless moment, I stopped being Adrian Blackwood’s ex-wife…

…and became a woman who forgot the world in the arms of the one man she should never have wanted.