CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 54

EZRA

I swear I woke up feeling like I didn’t actually sleep. My body felt like jelly, my voice already tired from the endless singing that I just knew was waiting for me again today.

Dorian was already up when I opened my eyes. He was buttoning his black priest shirt, the collar glinting white, the sleeves rolled a little. He looked holy. Holy and dangerous.

My stomach flipped. “You’re dressed already?”

He turned to me, smiling faintly. “You sleep like the dead.”

I sat up, rubbing my face. “Maybe because someone made me stay up rehearsing runs in my head all night.”

His eyebrow rose. “Oh? Runs?”

I realized what I said and threw a pillow at him. “Shut up.”

He laughed, actually laughed—deep and low. “Breakfast is in thirty minutes. Get dressed.”

“Fine,” I muttered, but I couldn’t stop my smile.

Breakfast was a noisy mess. Everyone talking at once, the clattering of spoons and plates echoing through the dining hall. Lily had already spilled juice before I even sat down.

“Ezra!” she waved me over dramatically, like she hadn’t seen me in years. “Come sit before Jordan eats my pancakes!”

Jordan rolled her eyes. “You told me to eat them if you didn’t want them!”

“Yeah, not literally!”

I slid into the seat next to them, grabbing toast before they could start a full-on war. “You two fight more than a married couple.”

Jordan smirked. “Who says we’re not?”

Lily blushed bright red. “Jordan!”

I nearly choked on my toast.

Across the table, Ryan snorted. “This group needs an exorcism.”

Genevieve cleared her throat from the far end. “Language, Mr. Ryan.”

“Yes, Sister.”

The whole table went quiet for a second before Lily leaned over to me and whispered, “She’s terrifying.”

I laughed into my cup. “You’re just scared of her accent.”

“I’m scared of her existence.”

Dorian walked past us then, greeting a few of the younger members. He was back in full priest mode—black shirt, dark slacks, clean and pressed, the collar crisp. His presence changed the whole atmosphere.

He glanced at me once, and my brain turned to static.

I looked down at my plate, pretending to be super fascinated with my eggs.

Lily noticed. “You good?”

“Yeah,” I said too quickly. “Just hungry.”

Jordan snorted. “Right. Hungry.”

“Shut up,” I hissed.

She grinned. “Can’t believe you and Father Hot—”

“Jordan!” Lily smacked her arm. “Don’t say that out loud!”

Jordan laughed. “Relax. He can’t hear us.”

But the smirk on Dorian’s lips when he walked away said otherwise.

After breakfast came the torture: practice.

Genevieve stood front and center, holding her clipboard like a weapon. “Warmups. Now.”

Ryan groaned. “We just ate.”

“You’ll live.”

We sang for hours. Scales, harmonies, full songs. My voice was already raw by the second hour. Dorian helped occasionally, adjusting pitches, standing near the piano, correcting us gently but firmly.

“Ezra,” he said at one point, his voice low enough that only I could hear, “you’re pushing too hard on that note.”

I blinked, nodding. “Sorry.”

He moved closer, his hand hovering near my lower back. “Breathe from here.”

I swallowed, focusing on the spot he pointed to, heat rushing up my neck. “Here?”

“Good,” he murmured, his breath brushing my ear. “Again.”

I nearly forgot the lyrics.

Lily gave me a look from across the room—one of those I-know-exactly-what’s-happening looks.

I mouthed shut up at her.

She mouthed you’re so gone.

She wasn’t wrong.

By the time Genevieve finally let us stop, everyone collapsed on chairs or the floor.

Ryan sprawled out dramatically. “My throat’s dead.”

“Good,” Genevieve said dryly. “That means you worked it.”

Jordan groaned. “I think my soul left my body.”

Lily lay her head on my shoulder. “Can we eat now?”

“Yes,” Genevieve sighed. “Lunch in twenty minutes. Be on time.”

Everyone cheered weakly.

I glanced at Dorian, who was still by the piano, sorting through sheet music. The light from the window hit him just right, outlining his jaw, his collar, his hands—

I looked away fast. Nope. Not thinking that. Not again.

“Earth to Ezra,” Lily said, waving a hand in front of my face.

I blinked. “Huh?”

“Lunch. Come on before Jordan eats everything again.”

Jordan grinned. “I make no promises.”

Lunch was chaos again—laughter, teasing, arguments over who hit the wrong note earlier. Dorian sat a few seats away this time, calmly eating like he wasn’t the reason half of us couldn’t breathe properly.

He looked up once, eyes meeting mine. A small smile. Just a flicker.

And just like that, my pulse spiked all over again.

God help me, I was so doomed.

Dinner hadn’t even started yet, and the tension in the air could’ve been cut with a butter knife. Everyone was buzzing—some fixing their hair, some touching up their shirts, some whispering about the philanthropist that was supposed to visit before the competition tomorrow.

Genevieve had lined us all up neatly in the dining hall like we were a choir of angels instead of tired, nervous college students.

Lily leaned closer to me and whispered, “Do you think the philanthropist’s rich?”

Jordan snorted. “He’s sponsoring a whole church choir trip, Lil. Of course he’s rich.”

Lily elbowed her. “No, I mean handsome rich.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

She grinned. “Admit it, you’re curious too.”

“I’m curious about the food,” I said, deadpan.

Ryan groaned from behind us. “If this philanthropist doesn’t come soon, I’m eating the napkins.”

Everyone laughed—right until the doors opened.

And then silence.

Because he walked in.

Tall. Sharp suit. Dark eyes that missed nothing. The kind of smile that could charm and manipulate at the same time.

“Good evening, everyone,” he said smoothly, like the room already belonged to him. “Senator Adrian Cross. It’s an honor to see such dedication to the Lord’s work.”

The man radiated power. Every step, every word, every tilt of his head screamed confidence and money.

But that wasn’t what caught my attention.

It was Dorian.

The moment the senator stepped in, Dorian froze. His jaw locked, the muscle twitching. The calm, composed priest I’d gotten used to? Gone.

He looked… furious.

“Father Dorian,” the senator greeted as if they were old friends, walking straight toward him with an easy smile. “It’s been quite a while.”

Something in the way he said that made my skin crawl.

Dorian’s expression didn’t change much, but the tension in his shoulders was impossible to miss. “Senator,” he said evenly, reaching out to shake his hand.

The handshake lasted longer than normal.

The senator’s smug grin grew just a fraction wider, while Dorian’s hand tightened so hard I saw the senator’s knuckles go white.

“Still as strong as ever,” Adrian said, chuckling under his breath. “I see the priesthood hasn’t softened you.”

Dorian’s voice was low. “It’s taught me patience.”

Their eyes locked, and I swore the air between them dropped a few degrees.

When the senator finally stepped back, I saw it—the tiny wince, the hidden flicker of pain across his face. And behind it, that same smugness.

My stomach twisted.

Something definitely went down between them.

And then I remembered: Dorian used to be a lawyer. The senator was a politician.

Oh.

Oh, something big definitely happened.

The rest of the choir murmured polite greetings as Senator Cross gave his little speech—praising our devotion, our hard work, and how the church youth was “the future.”

I tried to focus, really tried, but my eyes kept darting toward Dorian.

He was barely keeping it together.

His jaw clenched tighter with every word out of the senator’s mouth. His hands were clasped in front of him, knuckles pale.

And his eyes—dark, burning, unreadable—never once left the senator.

“Tomorrow marks the first round,” the senator continued, his smile sharp. “And I have faith this group will represent us with grace.”

His gaze slid toward Dorian again. “You’ve trained them well, Father.”

I swear I saw Dorian’s eye twitch.

When the senator finished, Genevieve led a round of polite applause, and people started dispersing.

Dorian didn’t wait. He turned sharply and strode out of the hall, his movements tight and controlled like a man trying not to explode.

I watched him go, heart pounding.

Something in me said follow him.

But I didn’t move. Not yet.

Lily nudged me. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

“I’m fine,” I lied.

Jordan narrowed her eyes. “You sure? You’ve been watching Father Brooding since that senator walked in.”

I forced a smile. “Just thinking.”

Ryan sighed dramatically. “Here we go again—Ezra and his mysterious deep thoughts.”

“Shut up, Ryan.”

“Tch.”

Five minutes later, when everyone was distracted, I slipped out.

The mansion was huge, quiet, filled with long corridors and heavy curtains. My footsteps echoed softly against the tiled floor as I walked, not even sure where I was going—just knowing I’d end up where he was.

I turned a corner and froze.

Dorian stood near a glass door leading out to the garden, his back to me. His hands were braced against the wall, shoulders tense. The faint glow from outside lit him in half-shadow, half-gold.

He looked like a man ready to shatter something.

I hesitated, then whispered, “Father Dorian?”

He turned so fast it startled me. His eyes burned when they met mine.

“Ezra.” His voice was rough.

“Are you—”

Before I could finish, he was there. One hand around my wrist, the other gripping my waist as he dragged me back into the shadows.

“Father—”

I didn’t get another word out.

His mouth crashed against mine.

Hungry. Angry. Desperate.

The kiss burned through every thought I had left.

My brain screamed we’re in a mansion full of people, but my body didn’t care.