Chapter 16

They spent the night entwined, whispers and touches filling the silence where fear had lived before. For the first time, Kiki felt the walls of her captivity blur, replaced by something dangerously close to tenderness.

Morning sunlight crept through the curtains.

Kiki stirred, her lashes fluttering open. Her heart nearly stopped.

Eric lay beside her, still asleep, his arm draped protectively around her waist.

She pressed a hand to her lips, memory flooding back. Her face flushed crimson.

“I shouldn’t have drunk that wine in your study…” she whispered, trying to convince herself that maybe it had been the drink. That maybe she hadn’t meant every kiss, every touch, every surrender.

But the truth burned in her chest.

She had.

And the way Eric’s hand tightened around her, even in sleep, made her wonder if he had too.

When Eric woke up that morning, he didn’t linger. He didn’t touch her, didn’t even glance too long. Without a word, he slipped from the bed and left her room, his footsteps echoing down the long corridor.

Kiki stirred awake only moments later, her lashes fluttering as she reached out to the space beside her—empty, already cold. Her chest tightened in confusion. Had she imagined last night? Had it all been just a blur of wine and exhaustion?

Eric was already there when she went downstairs to eat, sitting at the long dining table. His expression was unreadable, his fork moving slowly across the plate as if nothing at all had happened.

She sat down quietly, her stomach twisting, expecting him to say something, anything.

But he didn’t ask. He didn’t confront her.

Instead, he started sending her gifts. Dresses folded in delicate boxes, jewelry that shimmered like stars, even books she had once mentioned in passing. Every day, something new appeared in her room.

It should have made her happy. But every ribbon, every bow, every sparkle only confused her more.

When Eric retreated to his room at night, though, he was not at peace. He lay awake, restless, his body betraying him with an ache he couldn’t ignore. The image of her face, her scent, her lips haunted him in ways he refused to admit.

Do I want her only for this? he asked himself, teeth clenched as his hand dragged through his hair. To use her, to dirty her, to make her mine like some possession? Or is it something else… something worse?

The thought unsettled him. He told himself it wasn’t love. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t allow it. So he buried it, denying the way his chest tightened every time he saw her smile.

School came again. Eric had insisted on taking her himself this time.

The sleek black car rolled to a stop at the university gates, its polished surface catching the morning light. When Kiki stepped out, heads turned instantly. Whispers spread across the crowd—wasn’t this the same Kiki they all knew?

She was different now. Her walk carried a strange confidence, her clothes screamed of wealth, and Eric’s presence shadowed her like a warning no one dared challenge.

Yet still, hands brushed against her thighs in the crowd. A group of boys laughed and teased, one daring enough to linger too close. Heat crept across her skin, but not the kind she wanted. She felt flushed, hot, and uncomfortable.

Clutching her bag tighter, she escaped their circle and hurried away, refusing to let Eric see her flustered.

Two days passed.

And in those two days, silence grew between them. She avoided him, refused to scold him, and refused to hit him like before. Eric let her distance stand, but it only made his chest heavier.

It was late one night when everything cracked.

Eric stumbled back into the mansion, the sharp scent of alcohol clinging to him. His steps were uneven, his usual sharp composure replaced with a careless sway. His shirt was half-unbuttoned, his eyes dark with something heavier than drink.

Kiki found him slouched on the couch, a bottle still dangling from his fingers.

“Eric…” her voice broke softly as she approached.

He looked up at her, a bitter smirk tugging at his lips. “Why do you care?” he asked, his words slurred but sharp. “You hate me, don’t you?”

Her chest ached. “I don’t hate you.”

“Then what?” he leaned forward, eyes narrowing, searching hers. “What am I to you, Kiki? Just a monster who dragged you here? A man you can’t stand to touch?”

She opened her mouth, but no words came. She had nothing to give him but silence.

He laughed, but it wasn’t humor—it was pain. He pushed the bottle aside, leaning his head back, his voice cracking. “I don’t even know if I like you. Maybe I don’t. Maybe I just want to use you until you break. Maybe I should have left you tied up that day…”

“Stop it!” Kiki’s voice trembled, and before she realized, she was kneeling in front of him, her hands gripping his shirt. “Don’t say that. Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

His eyes flickered, glassy with alcohol and something rawer, something unguarded.

Her heart twisted. She should walk away. She should leave him in his ruin. But instead, she stayed, her thumb brushing the cut on his cheek, her voice softer now.

“I don’t know what you feel, Eric… but I feel sorry for you.”

The room fell into silence. His gaze locked on hers, and for a heartbeat, he wasn’t the Eric Reigns the world feared. He was just a broken man, caught between power and loneliness.

And Kiki, against her better judgment, couldn’t look away.

she realized something she shouldn’t have—Eric Reigns, the man who terrified everyone, was just as lost as she was.