Chapter 23

Orana’s Point of View

My arms rested on my knees as I watched people enjoy swimming, while I couldn’t even dip my feet in it.

London felt too far, and Liorah’s absence lingered whenever I was alone. And the guys disappearing to drink only made it louder. I exhaled slowly, trying to ignore the way everything felt off since he found out we have a daughter.

I saw the look in his eyes when I reminded him of what he had said. There was a flicker of regret, and he looked pained when he saw the picture of Liorah, but he had made his choice.

He wanted a family with Marissa. He should do that.

I sighed heavily, pressed my lips together when I felt a crawl over my skin. That little feeling you feel when someone is watching you.

The hairs along my arms lifted before I even looked up.

My gaze snapped toward the exit, and I caught a glimpse of him.

Vaughn?

Already turning away, his shoulders hunched like he was carrying the weight of the world.

“Wait—”

The word barely made it past my lips before he disappeared.

I grabbed my phone, nearly dropping it as I hit his name and pressed it to my ear.

It rang once, and he picked up

“Yes?” his voice came low.

He sounded tired in a way that made something twist in my chest.

I swallowed, sitting up straighter. “Do you want to grab something to eat?”

There was a pause, and then a blunt. “No.”

I blinked, my fingers tightening around the phone. “Vaughn…”

“Enjoy your evening.”

The line went dead. I froze, staring at the screen.

I stared at the screen, my reflection staring back at me again.

What was happening between us? He never did that. Never brushed me off like that.

My thumb hovered over his name.

I wanted to call again, but something held me back.

I set the phone down slowly, pressing my lips together as I stared out at the pool like it would make sense of anything. It shouldn’t bother me, but I could feel something was wrong with him.

**

I went to the bar after I got tired of admiring people who were swimming.

I ordered my first glass and downed everything at once. Maybe if I got drunk, things would be easier. It was the first time in years that I actually wanted to get drunk.

The first drink burned, and the second went down easier.

“Another one,” I said to the bartender, who paused, not moving.

I raised an eyebrow, and he poured another glass of bourbon for me. My hand just circled it, but before I could bring it to my lips, it was taken from my hand.

I blinked.

Vaughn stood beside me, already holding it, his expression unreadable as he turned to the bartender. “She’ll have water.”

My brows pulled together instantly. “What the fuck, Vaughn? You can’t take my drink.”

He glanced at me, something flickering in his eyes before it disappeared. ”I know”

Then he tipped the glass back, groaning as he pressed his lips together. He never drinks during the week, but he was taking my drink.

I watched the slow movement of his throat. The way his jaw tightened as he set the empty glass down.

Something in my chest twisted again, too aware of him. He looked so fucking hot, but maybe it’s the alcohol.

I pushed myself to my feet. “Who were you with earlier?”

“No one important.”

Heat flared in my chest. “Right. Of course.”

I turned, already stepping away, but the floor tilted under me before I could take a second step.

My balance slipped, and suddenly His hand was there, firm against my waist, pulling me back before I could fall.

My breath caught, my hands instinctively gripping his shirt as I steadied myself, the warmth of him too close.

“Careful,” he murmured.

I looked up at him. Really looked. There were shadows under his eyes I hadn’t noticed before. Tension sitting in his jaw and something else.

Something I couldn’t name.

I pulled back, but his hand didn’t move right away.

“Let go,” I mumbled.

His grip loosened but lingered just a second too long before falling away.

“Orana,” he whispered, trying to touch me, but his hand hovered. The silence between us stretched as she stared at me, his eyes lingering too much, and my chest tightened.

“I’m going to sleep,” I said finally, breaking it.

I turned too quickly, my ankle twisted under me, and sharp pain shot up my leg before I could catch myself.

A breath tore from my chest, but I didn’t hit the ground. His arms were around me before I could fall.

“Fuck Orana,” he muttered, already lifting me like I weighed nothing.

“Put me down,” I protested, my hands pressing lightly against his chest, something forming in my throat.

“Not today.”

“I can walk.” I snapped, pushing him back, but he pulled me closer to his chest, the smell of musk hitting my nostrils. But there was something else. He smelled of gasoline.

“You can barely stand.”

“I’m fine, Vaughn.”

“You’re not.” He said as he adjusted his hold, carrying me toward the elevator.

My heart raced as I stared up at his perfectly chiseled jawline. I imagine how my hand would feel stroking his face. The thought sent a pooling down my stomach, then to my core, which throbbed.

Fuck.

“What will the guys think when they see us?” I whispered.

“Nothing they don’t already know,” he retorted and kept walking. I sighed heavily, my protests fading somewhere between the lobby and the elevator.

My hand rested against his shoulder, steadying myself, but I could feel the warmth of him through the thin fabric. The steady rise and fall of his chest. The way his grip tightened slightly whenever I shifted.

“I’ll get ice,” he said, already turning away after he set me down on the bed.

I watched the way his shoulders stayed tense, like something sat heavy on him even now as he checked the fridge for ice.

When he came back, he just knelt in front of me, his hands careful but firm as he adjusted my foot, pressing the ice against my ankle.

I flinched, trying to move my leg away from him.

He glanced up. “You’re too careless.”

Just watched him. The way his brows pulled together.

“You should’ve been paying attention,” he added.

“I was. If you hadn’t ruined my night, this wouldn’t have happened,” I snapped.

His hands stilled for a second before continuing, his teeth grinding together.

I hesitated before I blurted out, “I missed you.”

His hands went still around my ankle, his head lowering as if he needed a second.

“It’s strange,” I continued, my voice low and vulnerable. “Missing you. But I did.”

More silence, and he didn’t even look at me, but I continued

“I was worried.”

He exhaled slowly, the sound rough, before finally looking up at me.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his eyes locked with mine, and my heart raced.

“I’m tired,” I added after a moment, leaning back. “I’m going to sleep.”

There was no point in being here with him if that’s all he could say after I told him I missed him. I closed my eyes anyway, even though I didn’t see him move.

I let my breathing slow down while I waited for him to leave.

The room stayed quiet for a moment, then his voice came. “I wish I could tell you.”

Almost like a whisper.

My chest tightened, but I didn’t open my eyes; he must think I’m sleeping. It was something I had perfected ever since I was young, how to pretend to be sleeping, and most of the people fell for it, even my dad, who used to read people well.

I felt him shift closer. His presence hovered just there.

For a second, I thought maybe he would touch me, and the worst part is, I wanted him to.

My breath stayed even, but everything in me stilled, waiting, but it never came.

“What am I doing…” he muttered under his breath, pulling back, and I wanted to scream for him to come back to me.

I don’t remember how I ended up falling asleep, but I woke up with a pounding headache in the middle of the night. My eyes opened, and the room was dim, shadows stretching along the walls.

I didn’t move at first, just listened to the sound in the room

Something was off.

“Vaughn?” I called, pushing myself up

A figure shifted in the corner, stepping out of the shadows.

My breath caught as I stared at the person who had just stepped out.

What the fuck?