Chapter 4: A Dangerous Craving

My cheeks burned. I reached for the coffee carafe to distract myself, but our timing locked. His hand reached out at the exact same moment.

Instead of drawing back, his fingers smoothly brushed against mine under the handle. He didn't let go. His thumb lightly grazed the sensitive skin of my wrist, a secret, hidden touch right beneath the edge of the table.

My breath caught in my throat. The tension in the room skyrocketed, thick and suffocating, leaving me completely at his mercy while the rest of the house remained completely oblivious.

I pulled my hand back quickly, almost spilling the coffee. My heart was pounding so hard I was sure the maid would hear it as she walked back into the room with the toast.

"Everything alright, ma'am?" she asked, noticing my shaking hands.

"Yes, thank you. Just... a bit cold," I murmured, keeping my eyes glued to my plate.

Charles took a slow sip of his black coffee, a small, satisfied smirk playing at the corner of his lips. He picked up his fork and began eating as if he hadn't just set my entire body on fire under the table.

"You should take care of yourself, Isabela," Charles said smoothly, his voice completely innocent for the servant's benefit. "With Walton away in London, we can't have you falling ill. If you need anything at all while he's gone... just let me know."

The way he emphasized anything made a shiver run straight down my spine.

"I'm fine, Charles. I don't need anything," I replied, trying to sound firm, but my voice came out softer than I intended.

"If you say so," he murmured, his dark eyes locking onto mine one last time as he stood up from the table. He straightened his suit jacket, looking every bit the powerful, respectable businessman. "I have to head to the office. Have a good day, sister-in-law."

He walked out of the dining room, leaving the heavy scent of his perfume behind. The moment he was gone, I let out a breath I didn't realize I was holding, my hands still trembling against my coffee cup. This house suddenly felt a lot smaller, and a lot more dangerous.

It was around 9:00 PM, and the entire house was completely dead silent. Walton hadn't called me back at all, and walking alone was starting to feel frustrated.

Hoping to calm my restlessness, I went down to the kitchen to warm up some milk. All the servants had already gone to their quarters for the night, leaving the main house dark except for a single dim light over the kitchen counter.

I was just standing there waiting for the milk when a shadow moved by the doorway.

I jumped, nearly dropping the glass. It was Charles. He had loosened his tie, and the top two buttons of his shirt were undone. He looked tired from work, but the moment his eyes landed on me, that sharp, intense look returned.

"Still awake?" he asked softly, stepping into the kitchen.

"I couldn't sleep," I murmured, instinctively keeping the kitchen island between us. I was only wearing a thin nightshirt, and under his gaze, I felt completely exposed all over again.

"Me neither," he said, walking closer until he was standing just on the other side of the marble counter. I could catch the faint scent of his cologne mixed with whiskey. "Too much on my mind."

I picked up my glass quickly. "I was just heading back upstairs to my room."

"Why do you always run away from me, Isabela?" His voice was incredibly low, cutting through the quiet night. He placed his hand on the counter, his fingers resting just inches away from mine.