Chapter 7: After the Thunder Fades

KEIRA’S POV

The warmth between us deepened, wrapping around my body like fire trapped under my skin. For a heartbeat, the world stopped—just me, him, and the echo of a kiss we never should’ve shared.

Then—

“Master Drake!” a voice shouted from outside.

We sprang apart, both breathless, both startled by how close we’d been. Drake rose so quickly he nearly stumbled over the bench.

“We’re here!” he called back, voice rougher than usual.

I followed him out, my pulse still racing in my throat. A group of staff hurried toward us, carrying umbrellas and towels, their shoes splashing against the puddles.

“Oh dear, you’re both drenched!” one of them exclaimed, rushing to wrap a towel around my shoulders. Another led a white horse forward, its mane slick with rain.

“For now, please use this, sir. The vehicles are all occupied,” the man said, bowing slightly.

Drake didn’t answer. He simply grabbed the reins and swung himself onto the horse, then extended his hand toward me.

I froze, cheeks heating as the memory of his lips flashed back like lightning.

“Are you going to ride,” he said impatiently, eyes narrowing, “or limp your way back on that ankle?”

My pride wanted to bite back, but my ankle throbbed in painful agreement. I exhaled and slipped my hand into his. His grip was firm yet careful as he pulled me up.

“Hold on tight,” he murmured.

So I did. My arms looped around his waist, my cheek brushing against the damp fabric of his shirt. The horse moved, each step jarring through my chest, each breath pulling me deeper into the awareness of him.

By the time we reached the villa, the rain had stopped—but the tension between us hadn’t.

We stepped inside, dripping water onto the polished floor. And then, a sharp **crack** tore through the silence.

Drake’s father stood by the staircase, his face thunderous. “What on earth possessed you to let your sister get caught in the rain?”

“Sister?” Drake’s voice rose, heavy with disbelief. “As far as I know, I don’t have a sister!”

“Drake!” I gasped just as his father’s hand lifted again. Instinct took over—I stepped between them. The blow grazed my cheek instead.

Pain burned through my skin, but I didn’t move.

“You’re mistaken, sir,” I said, voice shaking but steady. “It’s my fault. I slowed us down. Please don’t blame him.”

Edward Ashford’s eyes flared. “You’re defending him now? Sabina told me you refused the ride!”

“Not everything Sabina says is true—”

“Oh? So I’m lying now?”

The venomous voice came from behind. Sabina stood at the foot of the stairs, arms crossed, a cold smile curving her lips.

Before the argument could explode, my mother hurried in. “Edward, please. Let them rest—they’re exhausted.”

Edward’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. Drake, however, didn’t wait for permission. He turned and walked upstairs, silent, his expression unreadable.

Watching him go twisted something inside me. Anger. Pity. Confusion. Whatever it was, I hated how much it hurt.

“Come, Keira,” Mom said softly, guiding me toward the second floor. She opened a door. “This one’s yours. Drake’s room is next to it. Your father and I are staying downstairs.”

I froze. “Mom, seriously? Father? After all that? We’re nowhere near ready for that.”

She sighed, handing me a towel. “Keira, no one’s perfect. People make mistakes—but we can choose to forgive. Learn to give new people a chance.”

Her words lingered long after she left.

When I finally locked the door, I leaned against it and let out a shaky breath. My heart hadn’t stopped racing—not from fear or anger...

But from the ghost of Drake’s lips against mine.

***

I tossed the towel aside and caught my reflection in the full-length mirror. My hair was a mess, my cheeks still flushed. The room was sleek—white and gray, modern and quiet. It almost felt too elegant for someone like me.

I explored the space until I reached the balcony. The moment I pulled the curtain open, sunlight broke through the clouds, spilling across the glass doors.

Outside, the sea shimmered in shades of blue I didn’t know existed.

“Wow,” I breathed, stepping into the open air.

The breeze whipped through my hair, cool and salty. I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply, letting the ocean’s rhythm steady my racing heart.

But a strong gust made me shiver, and reality snapped back—I was still in wet clothes.

As I turned to go inside, movement from the next balcony caught my eye. Drake stood there, half-turned away, a cigarette between his fingers. His clothes were still damp, his hair falling messily over his forehead.

He didn’t notice me, but I saw the heaviness in his eyes—the kind that came from years of fighting battles no one ever asked about.

And for the first time, I wondered if Drake Ashford was really the villain everyone painted him to be… or just another casualty of his father’s cruelty.

I looked away and stepped back into my room, leaving the balcony doors open to let the sea breeze in. The air conditioning hummed softly, but I preferred the raw, honest chill of the ocean wind.

At the wardrobe, I found it already filled with clothes—elegant, expensive, far too many for a “guest.” I picked a light dress and, from the drawer below, a two-piece swimsuit. Perfect. If I felt like swimming later, I wouldn’t have to change again.

The bathroom was enormous, marble gleaming under soft light. I ran a hot bath, letting the steam rise, carrying away the last of the rain’s chill.

Sliding into the water, I sighed.

So this is what luxury feels like.

When I finally emerged, warm and refreshed, the silence felt heavy again.

So, I slipped on my sandals and decided to explore the island.

The villa opened to a breathtaking stretch of beach—white sand, scattered palms, waves that glittered like glass. The island was massive, yet eerily quiet, a paradise that seemed untouched by time.

“Miss!” a voice called out.

I turned. A tall, broad-shouldered man was walking toward me, a teasing grin on his face.

“Are you new here? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Yes,” I said cautiously.

“Ah. Whose guest are you?”

“Mr. Ashford.”

He laughed—a deep, amused sound that echoed across the sand. “You’ll have to be more specific, miss. We’re all Ashfords here.”

He offered a hand, still smiling. “Sean Ashford.”

“Oh.” I chuckled awkwardly. “Right. I’m Keira—Keira Dalton. We’re guests of Mr. Edward and Drake Ashford.”

Sean nodded, extending his hand again. “Then let’s start properly, Keira Dalton.”

I was just about to take it when another hand reached out—firm, familiar, and undeniably possessive.

My smile froze. My eyes followed the hand back to its owner.

And my breath caught.