Chapter 4

KAYLA’s POV:

A shadow shifted behind me, snapping me out of my thoughts. I stiffened but didn’t turn. Whoever it was would not see me like this. Yet the figure didn’t leave. His footsteps moved toward the balcony until he was standing beside me.

His scent reached me before I saw him. He smelled clean. I couldn’t decipher what exactly his scent was, but wealth was evident in his scent. He smelled just like my father. I finally turned to see the person who had this striking resemblance to my father. It was none other than Lucan. He didn’t speak. He simply extended a handkerchief toward me, his expression unreadable. I managed a small, polite smile as I accepted it. We stood in silence, facing the city lights together. Still, I couldn’t help myself. I turned again, needing a closer look at him.

Up close, he was even more striking. Lucan had the kind of face that looked carved rather than born, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, a mouth set in a thin line; I could already tell he didn’t smile often. His hair was dark, slightly tousled as though he had run a hand through it moments ago. His eyes, a cool steel-grey; the color was made to suit his coldness. He was beautiful.

“You’re staring,” he said calmly, without looking in my direction. “Yes, I am.” I didn’t bother denying it. “I didn’t get the chance to say thank you… for defending me earlier.”

“I didn’t do it for you.” His tone was calm, but I could hear the steel in his voice. “I simply don’t like it when people owe me.” His voice washed over me again. It wasn’t loud, but it still put me on edge. “Well… thank you anyway,” I said, offering a small smile as I moved to leave. I barely brushed past him when his hand caught my arm. It wasn’t rough, just firm enough to stop me.

“Your lower lips are bruised,” he murmured. “I might not know much about whatever you and your husband call… couple play. But I do know it’s alarming when a man takes out his anger and humiliation on you, especially in public.” I narrowed my eyes, not at his accusation, but at how easily he had noticed. I wasn’t fearful of what he knew. I was wary of how observant he was.

“I think you should stick to being Archie’s business partner, not his counsellor,” I replied, my voice perfectly levelled as I moved to slip my arm out of his grip, but he didn’t let me; instead, he slid an arm around my waist, his arm in contact with my bare back, and drew me closer to him. “I don’t tolerate disrespect,” he murmured, his cold eyes staring at me, his breath brushing my cheek. “I was only stating an observation.” His gaze dropped to my mouth, lingering on the bruise Archie had left. Before I could protest, he lifted his hand to my chin, tilting my face upward.

His touch was neither gentle nor rough. It was cold, just like him. And then, in a gesture so unexpected it stole the breath from my lungs, he brushed his thumb across the bruise on my lower lip… and then he leaned in, tracing the bruise with a soft touch of his tongue. I don’t know if it was the alcohol in my system, but I didn’t react immediately. I stood there, shocked, as he licked my bruise like an animal. When I finally got myself, I pushed him with as much force as I could muster. He released me, and I saw a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You should take better care of yourself,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t look at him as I left the balcony, my heart racing. I could still feel the ghost of his touch where his hand had held me. The noise coming from the gala was louder than before. And then I saw Archie cutting through the crowd, smiling that familiar smile everyone else adored, approaching me. I sighed. This night wasn’t done with me yet.

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By the time we got home, exhaustion clung to my bones like a second skin. I dropped my clutch on the dresser and exhaled, ready to peel the night off my skin. Archie shut the door behind us. I moved toward the mirror and froze when I caught the faint bruise on my lower lip. I touched it with my fingers, my mind switching back to the encounter at the balcony.

Archie’s reflection appeared behind mine, his hands rubbing my shoulders. His eyes narrowed. “What’s that on your lip?” I fought the urge to roll my eyes; he couldn’t even remember. “Nothing. Just…” He stepped closer, turning my face toward him with two fingers under my chin. He wasn’t rough; his actions were tender. The contrast made me brew in silent anger.

“Kay…” His voice softened, dripping with concern that didn’t match the memory of his earlier anger. “Did I do that?” I stayed silent because whatever I said, the outcome would be the same. He sighed, brushing his thumb lightly over the bruise. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. He sounded sincere. He always did. Then the familiar shift in blame. “You know how I get when those men push me,” he continued quietly. “You know I don’t like being embarrassed in public.” My chest tightened.

I took a deep breath before I replied. “I understand. Besides, it is a light bruise. I would apply a healing balm, and it will be as good as new in no time.” I smiled at him, my hands moving to interlock themselves behind his head. “I love you,” he said, voice low, intimate. “Thank you for understanding me, it’s me and you always.” There it was. The false promise, he had always used to solidify his actions.

He cupped my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “Look at me, Kayla.” I did. His thumb traced my bruised lip again, softer this time. “I hate hurting you,” he whispered. “But you know I only react when they push me too far.” I bit down on the inside of my cheek to keep my expression calm. He leaned forward and pressed a soft kiss to the corner of my mouth, the place that didn’t hurt. “You’ll try harder, right?” he murmured against my skin. “For us?”

My voice barely came out. “…yes.” His smile was relieved. Triumphant. “Good girl, I love you so so much.” He pulled me into his chest, holding me as if he was the one who needed comfort, not me. His heartbeat was steady and warm, and the moment I let my eyes close, my mind betrayed me, as it drifted back to Lucan Vesley. His cold gentleness, if that is what I could call it. The way he had held my gaze, his lingering touch. I pushed the thought away before it could show on my face. Archie’s arms tightened around me, as I sighted Lucan’s handkerchief on the table staring at me like it was mocking me.