Chapter 8: The Dove's Trap

Lucas's gaze remained unwavering. The silence between them grew thick and oppressive, yet the middle-aged man showed not the slightest hint of surprise. The next second, he merely let out a quiet snort before taking a calm sip of the red wine in his glass.

"You think far too highly of yourself, Little Girl," Lucas said, his voice deep, curt, and as cold as ice. He did not even bother to look back at Emma. "Whoever you are, whether you're one of my family's spies or just a drunk slut desperate for attention, you're all the same in my eyes. Leave before I completely lose my patience."

Hearing such blatant dismissal, Emma swallowed hard. An unfamiliar flutter stirred inside her chest. Yet instead of shrinking back, her gaze unintentionally drifted downward, taking in how the casual black shirt—replacing the satin bathrobe he had worn earlier—clung tightly to Lucas's broad chest and well-defined arms. The mature man's physique was remarkably solid, radiating stamina and strength that were completely different from Zane's.

Emma's thoughts began to wander.

For seven years, her world had revolved solely around Zane. Her body had grown accustomed to Zane's touch, her desire had been shaped by him, and tonight she had just been discarded like a worthless piece of trash. Emma felt empty. She craved validation. She wanted to prove that she was still desirable, that she was not merely a "toy" who could be cast aside without a second thought.

Before this month ends, before I'm bound by a contract marriage to some stranger on that app... what's wrong with finding out what it feels like to be touched by a mature man like him? the devil inside Emma whispered. The intimacy she had always shared with Zane suddenly awakened a reckless impulse that her rational mind could no longer restrain.

A faint smirk curled across Emma's lips.

She took a step backward before suddenly pressing a hand to her temple.

"Ah..." Emma let out a soft groan, her fingers pressing against her head. "Why do I suddenly feel so dizzy..."

Lucas remained indifferent.

He did not even blink, assuming that everything Emma was doing was merely another cheap act, no different from the countless performances he had seen from women trying to seduce him. He continued sipping his wine, leaving Emma to sway unsteadily beside the sofa.

Emma bit the inside of her lip.

This man is unbelievably stubborn, she grumbled inwardly.

Unwilling to let the opportunity slip away, Emma decided to take an even bigger gamble. She deliberately relaxed her entire body, allowing herself to collapse forward—directly toward where Lucas was sitting. Her slender body fell like a leaf carried away by the wind.

Just before Emma's face could hit the hard marble floor, an incredibly strong and steady grip suddenly caught her slender waist. Lucas's muscular arm moved with lightning speed, the protective reflex of a man who could not stand by and watch someone get hurt overpowering his cold indifference.

With a single swift motion, Lucas pulled Emma into his arms. The distance between them vanished in an instant. Emma could feel their chests collide, and Lucas's warm breath brushed against her skin. Their eyes locked intensely beneath the dim lounge lights. Lucas's sharp, dark eyes gleamed with dangerous intensity, while Emma silently celebrated in her heart.

He took the bait.

To perfect her performance, Emma immediately closed her eyes tightly. She relaxed every muscle in her body, let her head fall against Lucas's broad chest, and pretended to lose consciousness completely. She allowed herself to become a completely limp weight in the billionaire's embrace.

Lucas exhaled sharply through his nose. His jaw tightened until the veins in his neck stood out.

"Damn it," Lucas muttered.

He gently shook Emma's shoulder.

"Hey! Wake up! Don't try this ridiculous trick on me!"

Emma remained motionless, carefully controlling her breathing to make herself appear genuinely unconscious. The warmth of Lucas's broad chest gave her an oddly comforting sense of security, fueling her determination to continue the charade.

Lucas let out an irritated snort.

He knew the woman was most likely pretending, but leaving an unconscious woman in the hotel's open lounge area would only attract the attention of the film crew and the media still wandering around the lower floor. That was the last thing Lucas wanted.

With a frustrated sigh, Lucas set his wine glass down on the table with a firm thud. Without any gentleness, he slipped one powerful arm beneath Emma's knees and the other behind her back. In one effortless yet incredibly strong motion, Lucas lifted Emma into his arms, carrying her in a bridal style.

Lucas strode forward with a dark and intimidating expression. He carried Emma back into the hotel building, heading toward the private VIP elevator to take her back to the top floor. In his embrace, Emma could feel Lucas's heartbeat, steady and powerful beneath his black shirt, giving off an overwhelmingly masculine presence.

The elevator doors chimed open on the sixth floor.

Lucas stepped out with heavy, steady strides.

However, after walking only a few meters down the quiet hallway, a young man in a disheveled tuxedo appeared from the opposite end of the corridor. His head was lowered, a bottle of alcohol hanging from one hand, while frustration was written all over his face.

The man was Zane.

Emma's heart suddenly pounded like a war drum.

She recognized Zane's footsteps and the familiar scent of his cologne as he drew closer. Hidden by panic, Emma buried her face even deeper into the crook of Lucas's neck, pressing herself as close as possible against the middle-aged man's chest so that her face would be completely concealed by Lucas's broad shoulder and her loose, disheveled hair.

Lucas noticed the subtle movement of the woman in his arms, yet he continued walking without changing his expression, his gaze fixed straight ahead, unconcerned with whoever the young man approaching them might be.

Consumed by anger and frustration after Emma's rejection, Zane paid no attention to his surroundings. His head, still dizzy from the alcohol, only spared a brief glance at the mature man dressed in a black shirt carrying a woman in white through the hallway. To Zane, she was nothing more than another hotel slut being carried away by a wealthy man for a night of pleasure.

He had absolutely no idea.

He did not recognize that the woman held securely in the embrace of the man who had just walked past him, carrying an intimidating masculine scent, was Emma—the woman who had spent the past seven years kneeling at his feet.

The scents of their colognes crossed in the cold hallway air. Lucas continued walking forward without so much as a glance back, while Zane staggered toward his own room with a bottle of alcohol in hand, unknowingly allowing the woman who had always belonged to him to be carried away by another man into Presidential Suite 6009.