CHAPTER 24

THE ALTERNATIVE WAS LOSING YOU...

The dining room was quiet except for the soft clink of cutlery and the distant hum of the chandelier above. Two seats. Two plates. Two people who had danced around too many things for too long.

Abigail walked in slowly, the emerald dress Luke picked clinging to her in all the right places. Her heels clicked softly on the polished marble floor. The scent of roasted lamb and wine filled the air, but her appetite was buried somewhere beneath the tight coil in her stomach.

Luke was already there, sitting at the head of the table. His dark shirt hugged his shoulders, his sleeves rolled up, revealing strong forearms. He didn’t look at her right away, just sipped his wine like a man with time to spare.

Abigail slid into the chair across from him, forcing herself to keep her back straight even though his silence was heavy enough to crush her.

“You look… good,” he said finally, his voice deep, even.

She raised a brow. “You make it sound like a surprise.”

One corner of his mouth twitched, but it wasn’t a smile. “I’m rarely surprised.”

“Then maybe you should try being human for once.” The words slipped out before she could stop them.

Luke’s eyes lifted slowly, pinning her in place. “Careful, Abigail.”

She dropped her gaze to the plate in front of her, picking at the food with her fork. The lamb was perfect, but it tasted like nothing.

For a long while, they ate in silence. The servants had disappeared after setting the dishes, leaving them alone in the golden glow of the chandelier. Abigail hated the way her chest tightened every time Luke’s eyes slid to her.

Finally, she set her fork down with a soft clink. “Are we going to sit here pretending like nothing happened?”

Luke leaned back in his chair, wine glass in hand, his gaze sharp. “Depends on what you mean by ‘nothing.’”

Her jaw clenched. “The attack. You dragged me through a war zone, Luke. I think that counts as something.”

His fingers tightened slightly around the glass. “You’re alive. That’s what matters.”

She let out a harsh laugh. “That’s all you have to say? That I’m alive?”

His eyes darkened. “What do you want me to say, Abigail? That I’m sorry? That I regret bringing you into this? I don’t. Because the alternative was worse.”

“What alternative?” she snapped.

Luke’s gaze held hers for a long moment, then he set the glass down and leaned forward, resting his forearms on the table. “The alternative was losing you.”

The words hit her like a punch. Her lips parted, but nothing came out.

He didn’t let her speak. “You think this is a game. It’s not. The people who came after us weren’t random. They were sent. And not for me.”

Her stomach dropped. “What do you mean not for you?”

“They were there for you.” His voice was calm, but it carried the weight of a gunshot. “You’re leverage now, Abigail. You’ve been leverage since the night you walked into that party with me.”

Her pulse roared in her ears. “Why? I don’t I don’t know anything. I’m just”

“Mine.” The word was so sharp it sliced through her protest. “You’re mine. And people know that. Which means anyone who wants to hurt me, they go through you first.”

Abigail’s throat tightened. “Who? Who sent them?”

Luke’s jaw flexed, his eyes going cold and hard. “Walter.”

For a moment, she thought she’d misheard. “Walter? The man from the party? The one who”

“The one who couldn’t keep his hands or his words to himself,” Luke said, his voice like ice.

Abigail’s mind spun back to that night the tall man with the easy smile, the one who’d leaned too close, who’d said he fancied her like she was some prize. She’d brushed it off as arrogance. She hadn’t thought about him since.

“He’s a rival,” Luke continued. “Has been for years. We’ve circled each other in business for a long time, but lately, he’s been… desperate. He’s losing ground, and he knows it.”

Abigail swallowed hard. “So he sends men to what? Kill me? Kidnap me?”

“Both,” Luke said simply. “Dead, you’re a message. Alive, you’re a weapon.”

She pushed her chair back and stood abruptly, pacing to the far end of the room because if she stayed sitting across from him, she’d break. “I can’t do this,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I didn’t sign up for this, Luke. I didn’t”

“You signed up for my name,” he cut in, his tone sharp enough to freeze the air. “My protection. My world. This is what it looks like.”

She spun on him, anger flaring bright through the fear. “Don’t you dare throw that in my face! You think I care about your name? About your damn world? I just wanted”

“What, Abigail?” He rose slowly, his height and presence filling the room like a storm. “What did you want?”

Her throat worked, but the words caught somewhere between fury and something softer, something she refused to name.

Luke moved toward her, each step measured, controlled, until the space between them was nothing but heat and tension. His eyes burned into hers, dark and relentless.

“You think I don’t see it?” he said quietly. “The way you look at me. The way you fight me every chance you get. You want control? You want freedom? Then tell me right now that you don’t feel this.”

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt. “Feel what?” she whispered.

He didn’t answer with words. He just leaned in, so close she could feel his breath on her lips, so close the air between them seemed to spark.

Abigail’s fingers curled into fists at her sides, her whole body trembling with the effort not to give in, not to close that last inch and let everything shatter.

“Luke…” Her voice broke, but whether it was a warning or a plea, she didn’t know.

For a second, she thought he’d kiss her. She wanted him to. God help her, she wanted him to.

But then he stepped back, his control snapping into place like a blade sliding back into its sheath.

“Dinner’s over,” he said, his voice flat now, cold. “Go upstairs.”

Her breath hitched. “Just like that?”

“Just like that.”

And with that, he walked out, leaving her standing in the golden light, her pulse still racing, her body still burning, and her mind screaming with a thousand questions and one truth she couldn’t ignore anymore:

This wasn’t just a contract.

Not anymore.