chapter 4. Hickeys

Emily

Assured that what happened remains between us, I slid out of the bed carefully, every movement deliberate. My legs felt heavy and my mind buzzed with the combination of adrenaline, exhaustion, and the residual heat from Adrian.

I had to move. Now.

One wrong step, one accidental glance at a mirror, and my composure would shatter entirely.

I got dressed as quickly as I could. Suddenly conscious of myself as Adrian's eyes followed my every moment.

His eyes remained on me as I crept toward the door, letting it click softly behind me as I left the room. I didn’t glance back. I didn’t want to. I only wanted a neutral space—somewhere I could gather myself without fear of him or of being seen.

I walked as fast as I could down the long corridor, my eyes scanning for any movement.

All the rooms had the same doors, no wonder I went into the wrong room.

I tried to remember which room the the maid had taken my luggage to.

I couldn't

I could only guess.

The only main room on this floor other than Adrian's was Nathan's.

Others were guest rooms

Trying my luck, I open the first guest room beside Nathan's slightly, peeking inside.

It was empty.

I sighed in relief and slipped into the room, closing the door behind me.

At a corner of the room was my luggage.

Perfect, I'm in the right room.

It made sense though, placing my luggage in the room beside my fiancé's.

I looked around the room.

A modest bed, neutral walls, a single window letting in soft morning light.

Nice for a guest room.

The bathroom was small but functional. I turned on the shower and let the warm water hit my skin, letting the liquid run over me as though it could wash away my mistakes.

Then I noticed the marks.

I froze, gripping the edge of the tub. The evidence was everywhere: the faint, angry blush on my neck, the lingering traces on my shoulders, and the subtle hints along my chest.

How am I going to hide these?

I closed my eyes. I could think of scarves, high collars, turtlenecks—but this was summer, and the house was hot with sunlight pouring in. I could feel my pulse spike with panic.

I scrubbed at the marks under the hot water, but I knew it was pointless. They were still there, and worse, they were visible. The thought of the marks being seen, made my stomach knot.

I finished the shower quickly, letting the towel wrap around me tightly, pressing it to my body as though that could erase my worry.

The first thing I did after drying off was press the call button on the nightstand. My voice, when I asked for help, had to sound casual, distant—innocent.

“I’m feeling a bit chilly,” I told the maid when she answered.

“Could you bring me some clothes? Something long-sleeved… and perhaps a scarf or something to cover my neck?”

“Of course, Miss Emily. I’ll bring them immediately.”

I waited, pretending to read a book that wasn’t open, my mind racing. I didn’t want Adrian—or anyone else—to see me like this, vulnerable, exposed.

Moments later, a soft knock echoed at the door. I peeked out just enough to see the maid place a folded set of clothes on the floor. My hands itched to snatch them immediately, but I stayed still until she left.

Once the door clicked shut, I moved fast, grabbing the clothes and scanning for the scarf—or high-necked blouse—that could hide the marks on my skin. I clutched it to my chest and let out a quiet, relieved sigh.

Safe. For now.

I dressed quickly, slipping into the long sleeves, letting the soft fabric shield my neck, chest, and shoulders. I checked myself in the mirror and tried not to panic at the subtle shadows of the hickeys. They were faint, but they were there.

I need to figure out a plan.

I made sure the room looked a little disorganized, as if I had just woken up normally. I wanted no trace, no evidence that Adrian and I had crossed lines last night—lines that, for some reason, had felt dangerously right.

The bell rang a short while later, and a second maid knocked politely.

“Miss Emily, breakfast is ready downstairs,” she said, her voice neutral. “The family would like you to join them.”

I nodded, keeping my composure. “Thank you. I’ll be down shortly.”

She left, and I closed my eyes, letting myself sink into the bed for a moment. My pulse was still racing, and the events of last night felt surreal in the bright morning light.

As I made my way downstairs, each step felt heavier than the last. Every corner, every doorway seemed alive with possibility. What if someone noticed my neck? What if Nathan—God forbid—looked too closely?

I tried to calm myself with shallow breaths, keeping my hands lightly crossed over my chest. The scarf was a good cover. Long sleeves hid my shoulders. No one could see the evidence, but the knowledge of it pressed on me like a weight.

The mansion was already buzzing quietly with the start of the day. Breakfast was laid out in the dining room—a long table with perfectly arranged silverware, steaming plates of eggs, pastries, fresh fruit. The Carters moved gracefully, their ease making me feel like a clumsy outsider.

Nathan was already seated, looking annoyingly composed. I wanted to tell him nothing, to hide everything, but part of me couldn’t stop the occasional flicker of guilt—or thrill—at last night.

I slid into my chair, keeping my scarf tight, my posture deliberate. Adrian was nowhere to be seen yet, and a tiny part of me was grateful. I needed a few moments to be fully present without his gaze pressing into me, even from across the room.

Breakfast passed in a flurry of polite conversation. The Carters were warm but distant, like people who treated interactions as carefully choreographed dances. I kept my eyes mostly on my plate, speaking only when addressed.

Then, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed a subtle shift in the room. Adrian had arrived, moving slowly, purposefully, like he owned every step he took. He didn’t speak, didn’t smile. He simply looked at me.

The look made my stomach tighten, and I had to remind myself to breathe. I had survived the morning so far. I could survive this, too.

He didn’t say a word, and I didn’t. But that silent exchange carried everything between us—the night, the claim, the threat, the understanding.

I sipped my coffee, keeping my scarf tight and my hands folded neatly on my lap. Everything will be fine if I stay careful.

And yet, every time his dark eyes found mine, I felt the pull. The same pull from last night. The same pull that reminded me how easily I could lose control.

For now, I thought, gripping the fabric around my neck. Everything is still a secret.