Chapter 4: The Touch of a Stranger

"Who are you?"

The voice was deep, cold, and carried an absolute authority capable of freezing anyone's blood. Lucas stepped closer to the bedside, staring at the stranger who had so boldly soiled his silk sheets. As a man who possessed everything, Lucas despised two things above all else in this world: disobedience and women who tried to crawl into his bed for money.

Without a trace of mercy, Lucas's strong hand gripped Emma's bare shoulder and forcefully pulled her upright into a sitting position.

Emma, who had lost most of her consciousness under the influence of alcohol, could only let out a faint groan. Her head lolled weakly as dizziness overwhelmed her. The pounding in her head prevented her from seeing clearly. Through her blurred vision, the figure before her appeared hazy, yet the man's commanding aura and masculine scent were so intense that they pierced her senses.

Emma blinked several times, struggling to focus her vision. Instead of feeling afraid, her trembling fingers slowly lifted and wandered across Lucas's broad chest, exposed beneath his satin bathrobe. His skin was warm, and the firm muscles beneath it had been sculpted by years of discipline.

"Your body..." Emma mumbled drunkenly, her voice hoarse and slurred. A bitter smile curved across her damp lips. "Your body is amazing... just like that bastard's."

Lucas froze.

Disgust and anger flashed simultaneously through his dark eyes.

He seized Emma's wrist as she boldly touched his chest, squeezing it until her skin reddened.

"Take your hand off me, you damned woman."

But Emma didn't hear him.

Her mind had already drowned in illusion and the heartbreak burning inside her.

She stared at Lucas's chiseled face with tear-filled, unfocused eyes.

"But... who are you? Why are you in my room? Leave... this is my room..."

Lucas's jaw tightened.

His patience finally snapped.

The mature man leaned closer and wrapped one hand around Emma's neck—not tightly enough to choke her, but firmly enough to make the threat unmistakable and reinforce the distance between them.

"Get out of my room! This is my room, not yours, you bitch," Lucas hissed inches from her face, his voice as cold as the North Pole.

The cold grip around her neck forced Emma to squeeze her eyes shut as she instinctively responded to the pain gradually cutting through her drowsiness.

When she slowly opened her eyes again, their faces were only inches apart.

She could clearly see the mature lines on Lucas's face, his strong jawline, and those piercing eyes that, for some reason, reminded her of someone she hated... and loved.

Emma swallowed with difficulty.

Whether it was the alcohol burning through her veins or Zane's rejection leaving her desperate for validation, the middle-aged man before her suddenly awakened a maddening desire inside her.

A strange hunger.

A desire to take revenge on the world.

A longing to feel another man's touch so she could forget her pain.

Gathering the last of her strength, Emma moved her leg and kicked Lucas in the hip, creating a brief opening.

The unexpected impact caused Lucas to lose his balance for a split second.

Taking advantage of the opportunity, Emma forcefully shoved his hand away from her neck.

Instead of moving away, Emma wrapped both of her slender arms around Lucas's neck.

Using the weight of her own body, she pulled down the collar of his bathrobe, dragging Lucas down with her.

Both of them fell onto the soft bed together.

Lucas's bathrobe slipped open even farther, allowing their chests to brush against each other with almost nothing separating them.

Emma inhaled the masculine scent radiating from Lucas's body, while Lucas could feel the warmth and softness of Emma's nearly bare body pressing tightly against his rigid frame.

Their position was undeniably intimate.

Their hurried breaths mingled in the dimly lit room.

For several crucial seconds, Lucas remained frozen.

His heart pounded harder than usual.

The sensation of a young woman's body pressed against him awakened primitive instincts he had buried deep inside himself for more than a decade after withdrawing from the world of romance.

Something inside Lucas stirred violently, urging him to reverse their positions and take control of the woman beneath him.

But Lucas was not a weak man who could be ruled by a moment of desire.

His hatred for women who deliberately threw themselves at him, combined with his immense pride, instantly forced his rationality back to the surface.

He knew very well that this was a trap—or at the very least, the foolish behavior of a drunken woman who had entered the wrong room.

With a rough movement devoid of the slightest gentleness, Lucas rose to his feet.

Breathing heavily with restrained anger, he straightened his disheveled bathrobe.

His eyes fell upon Emma, who had once again collapsed onto the bed, slowly closing her eyes as though she were ready to drift off to sleep.

"What a shameless woman," Lucas muttered under his breath.

He strode toward the console table in the corner of the room.

A glass pitcher filled with cold mineral water and a drinking glass sat there.

Lucas filled the glass to the brim with ice-cold water.

His heavy footsteps carried him back to the bedside.

Without any warning, he splashed the entire glass of icy water directly onto Emma's face.

The freezing water instantly soaked her face, hair, and the exposed skin of her chest.

"Ah!"

Emma cried out in shock, jerking upright immediately.

The piercing cold acted like an electric shock, instantly clearing away most of the alcohol clouding her mind.

Emma gasped for breath as she wiped the water from her drenched face with trembling fingers.

Her eyes slowly widened—completely awake now—as they darted wildly around the unfamiliar room before finally locking onto the broad-shouldered middle-aged man standing before her, staring down at her with an icy, judgmental gaze.