CHAPTER 46

I DON'T WANT A CAGE...

The quiet after their reconciliation was heavy, not with awkwardness, but with the aftertaste of heat and vulnerability that neither had quite processed. Abigail sat on the edge of the bed, tugging the hem of Luke’s shirt down over her bare thighs, while he moved about the room, buttoning his shirt with slow, deliberate motions.

It was almost domestic almost but there was something in the way he watched her between fastening each button that kept her pulse unsteady.

“You’re staring,” she murmured, glancing up from where she was smoothing the sheets with absent fingers.

“I’m making sure you’re still here,” Luke said simply, his voice flat but carrying that undertone she knew too well an admission he would never frame as one.

Her lips curved faintly. “Where else would I be?”

“You’ve surprised me before.” He slid his watch onto his wrist, the soft click of the clasp almost too loud in the room. “I don’t like surprises.”

She didn’t answer right away. She knew he meant it, and not in a romantic way. Luke’s world didn’t have space for uncertainty; everything had to be calculated, controlled. And yet, here she was, in his space, unpredictable by nature.

When she finally spoke, it was quiet. “Then stop treating me like I’m something you need to guard from every possible outcome.”

He stilled, his eyes locking onto hers. “Guarding you is exactly why you’re sitting here, Abigail. You think I’m difficult? You’ve seen nothing of what I’m keeping out.”

Her throat tightened. She could hear the truth in his tone, but the stubbornness in her wouldn’t let her back down completely. “I don’t want a cage, Luke. Even if it’s made of gold.”

A muscle worked in his jaw, and for a long moment, she thought he’d lash back with one of his cutting retorts. But instead, he crossed the room in two strides, catching her chin between his fingers, tilting her face up to him.

“It’s not a cage,” he said softly, dangerously. “It’s my hands. And they hold you because I refuse to lose you.”

Her chest squeezed. She didn’t know whether to fight that or melt into it.

His phone rang on the dresser, breaking the tension. Luke didn’t move to answer it, his gaze still locked on her, but the name flashing across the screen caught Abigail’s eye Kate Vandell.

Luke’s mouth tightened before he picked up the phone. “Mother.” His voice lost none of its authority, though there was an edge of restraint there.

Abigail could only hear Kate’s muffled voice on the other end, but Luke’s responses were clipped. “I’m aware… No, I don’t think that’s necessary… Because it’s my house, and I’ll decide when” He stopped, jaw tightening. “Fine. Lunch. But keep it short.”

He hung up without waiting for a goodbye.

Abigail raised a brow. “Kate’s coming here?”

Luke’s eyes flicked to her. “She’s insisting.”

The way he said it made her curious. She knew Kate was sharp, with a presence that filled any room she entered, but there was something about Luke’s reaction equal parts irritation and calculation that made Abigail wonder what this lunch was really about.

By the time Kate arrived, the air in the Vandell dining room had shifted. Staff moved with quiet efficiency, setting out polished silverware and delicate porcelain, but Luke’s mood was taut. He stood at the head of the table, black suit immaculate, hands in his pockets, watching the door like a hawk.

When Kate stepped inside, it was as though the light itself bent around her. Her tailored cream suit was flawless, her blonde hair pinned in an elegant twist, and her eyes the same piercing grey as Luke’s swept the room before settling on her son.

“Luke,” she greeted coolly, before turning to Abigail. “And Abigail. You look… better than I expected.”

Abigail forced a polite smile. “Thank you.”

Kate’s gaze lingered a beat too long before she took her seat. “I thought it was time we spoke. Properly.”

Luke remained standing until the staff had poured the wine and retreated. Then he sat, leaning back in his chair with the kind of composure that made it clear he was ready to control the pace of this conversation.

Kate, however, didn’t seem interested in small talk. “Luke, you’ve always been… selective with the people you keep close. So I admit, I was surprised when Abigail became part of your life so quickly.”

Abigail kept her posture straight, resisting the urge to glance at Luke. “I didn’t exactly plan for it either,” she said evenly.

“Mm.” Kate sipped her wine, studying her over the rim of the glass. “That’s the thing about sudden attachments they burn bright, but they can burn out just as fast if you’re not careful.”

Luke’s voice cut in, low but firm. “If you came here to undermine her, you can leave now.”

Kate’s smile didn’t falter. “It’s not undermining, dear. It’s perspective. Something Abigail might appreciate if she’s going to survive in your world.”

Abigail felt the tension coil tighter. “I can handle myself, Kate.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt you can handle yourself,” Kate said lightly. “I just wonder if you understand the cost.”

Luke’s eyes darkened. “Enough.”

For a moment, the table was silent except for the soft ticking of the clock on the far wall.

Kate set her wine down, her expression smoothing. “Very well. I came to see for myself, and I have. I only hope you remember, Luke, that protecting someone doesn’t always mean keeping them in the dark.”

That was the first thing she’d said that Abigail agreed with completely.

Kate rose, and Luke stood automatically, though his face was unreadable. “Thank you for lunch,” Kate said, her eyes flicking between them. “I’ll see myself out.”

When the door closed behind her, Luke exhaled slowly.

“She’s not wrong,” Abigail said quietly.

Luke’s gaze snapped to her. “She’s exactly the kind of distraction I keep you away from. She plays with people to get under their skin.”

“Or maybe,” Abigail countered, “she’s just willing to say the things you don’t.”

He stepped toward her, close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. “Careful, Abigail. You’re already pushing me today.”

Her pulse quickened. “Then push back.”

Something in his eyes shifted, and before she could take another breath, his hand was at the back of her neck, pulling her into a kiss that was all teeth and fire. The wine glasses clinked dangerously as she braced herself against the table, his body pressing into hers with deliberate force.

“You think you can handle me?” he murmured against her lips.

“I think I already am,” she shot back, breathless.

He laughed low in his throat, the sound dark and edged. “We’ll see.”

And just like that, the fragile peace of the morning was gone replaced by a new kind of tension, one that neither of them wanted to break.