Chapter 3

Claire~

It's an unknown number.

The message is a gif.

My brows furrow as I tap it open, waiting for the gif to load.

Standing in front of a bathroom mirror, drenched in water that trails down his toned abs, is the man I have been trying so hard for days to forget about.

He looks sinfully handsome. No, breathtakingly alluring.

His dark hair is still damp and disheveled. Water beads cling to the sharp line of his jaw before disappearing down his neck. A white towel is wrapped loosely around his V line, revealing just enough to make the picture feel deliberately provocative.

He wears the same wicked smirk as he stares at me through the lense. One hand reaches below his waist. Although what his hand is doing isn't captured, but with the slow movement of his hand, my mind claims to know what he is doing.

My core stings and tingles as memories of that night sends heat all over me.

My cheeks flush from the sheer embarrassment when I realize just how much control his action has over my body.

No. No... I shouldn't be thinking about him that way.

He's my Stepson now!

How did he even get my number?

My fingers tighten around the phone until my knuckles turn white yet my eyes are glued on him.

Another notification pops up before I can recover.

Arthur: Miss what you see already, Mother?

The wine glass slips from my hand. It crashes onto the marble floor, sparkling wine splashing across my slippers and the balcony tiles.

I don't even flinch. As my eyes remain glued to the screen. On his looping gif, his message, and the three dots swimming by the corner, telling me he's typing.

Arthur: Or should I call you Claire when Father isn't around?

Cold dread settles in my stomach. He's toying with me. Every word is meant to remind me that our secret isn't buried.

With trembling fingers, I type a reply.

Me: Who gave you my number?

The typing indicator appears almost instantly. He must have been waiting.

Arthur: Interesting.

Arthur: That's your first question?

I stare at the screen without replying.

Another message arrives.

Arthur: I thought your first question would be whether I plan on telling Father how lovely you look without clothes on.

Arthur: Or how hot your tongue on my dick was.

My breathing catches in my throat. Heat rolls off me in waves.

Quickly, I mark all messages and delete them. But he's not done. He's typing faster than a tech geek.

Arthur: I remember every second.

Arthur: The sound of your moans.

Arthur: The bruises your nails left behind are still fresh on my skin.

Anger rush to my head. Or is it anger or anxiety?

I can't tell anymore as my fingers fly across the keyboard.

Me: Whatever happened before my wedding is over. Don't contact me again.

I should block him immediately. But for some reasons, I don't. I wait for his response.

This time, several seconds pass. Then...my phone buzzes repeatedly.

Arthur: That's going to be difficult.

Arthur: After all...

Arthur: ...we live under the same roof now.

Arthur: See you soon... Mother?

Arthur: One last thing... Mother?

Arthur: Don't make the mistake of blocking me.

Arthur: You don't want to know what I'm capable of just yet.

A chill crawls down my spine. This is bad.

Before I can think of a reply, a soft knock sounds on my bedroom door.

"Madam?"

I nearly drop my phone.

The maid's voice comes from the other side. "Mr. Westhall has returned home. He's asking if you'd join him for dinner."

My heart skips.

Instinctively, I glance back at Arthur's chat. His profile shows Online. Will he be there too? Does he even live here?

I shake my head.

The maids would have bring him up at least once if he lives here.

...

I stand outside the dining room for nearly a minute before forcing myself to step inside.

The aroma of richly prepared dinner fills the air, but it does nothing to settle the nausea twisting inside me.

The dining room is enormous. A table long enough to seat twenty stretches beneath a crystal chandelier, though only three places are set tonight.

Robert looks up the moment he sees me.

"There you are." His face brightens. "I was beginning to think you'd skip dinner."

"I wasn't hungry," I reply.

"You still need to eat," he press.

I force a smile and walk toward the empty chair beside him. Half way through, I notice who is sitting opposite me.

Arthur.

My steps slow automatically. I stare unblinkingly, heart racing faster than a truck.

He is already halfway through his meal, unbothered by my presence.

His phone is sitting beside his plate, face down.

Was he eating and texting me just now?

In front of his father?

He looks up as I approach, his expression warm enough to fool anyone.

If he hadn't texted me those forbidden texts minutes ago, I would have been fooled too.

"Good evening..." He pauses for the briefest second before smiling politely. "...Mother?"

The way he says it sends a chill down my spine and for some reason, I don't want to sit facing him. But unfortunately, there's no way around it. The table has been set.

"Arthur finally decided to come home," Robert says happily. "It's been weeks since we've shared dinner together."

"I'm glad to be back," Arthur replies. Though his eyes never leave mine. Not even for a second.

I lower my gaze and take my seat beside his father, while unfortunately facing him directly.

A maid immediately fills my plate before I can ask, even though the sight of him, plus this sitting arrangement already drained my appetite.

"I heard you're seeing someone these days." Robert cut into his steak with an easy smile. "When are you bringing her home for dinner?"

Arthur let out a quiet chuckle. "I'm afraid that's not entirely accurate."

My ears perk up for reasons I don't understand, suddenly invested in his love life.

But what he says next drains the color from my face.