I rub at my face, exhaling shakily.
The doctor discusses adjustments, fine-tuning, and follow-up appointments. His lips move, his voice reaches me clearer than I’ve ever heard before, but the words blur in my mind. AllI can think about is a penthouse, a too-quiet drive, and the way Alex looks at me like he’s already decided I belong to him.
I blink quickly and nod, pretending I understand.
Ashley watches me carefully. Her eyes flicker to my hands as they tremble faintly against my notebook, but she doesn’t say a word. By the time we leave the clinic, the noise in my head feels unbearable. The voices too sharp, footsteps too heavy, doors too loud. My chest feels stuffed with thoughts I can’t sort through. Thoughts of him. Always him.
And then I see him.
My heart does a stupid flip.
He’s leaning against a black G-Wagon. Arms crossed, posture still, radiating that quiet control that makes the whole world feel like it bends around him.
He’s dressed in black again—tailored coat, expensive boots, sharp lines that cut against the cold air. He doesn’t need to do anything to draw attention. He simply exists, and it’s impossible not to look.
TEN
LUCAS
Alexander’s eyes find mine.
Sharp, unblinking, arresting. My chest tightens like he’s reached across the distance and clenched it in his fist. Of course, he’s here. Why am I even surprised?
Ashley doesn’t wait for me to catch up. She walks forward, efficient as always, and dips her head politely. Alex’s gaze slides to her, a flicker of command in those glacial eyes.
“Go on,” he says, tone clipped.
She doesn’t argue. She just turns and walks off toward the other car. But I stay rooted where I am. He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s already solved.
“Get in the car, Lucas.”
That voice—low, steady, and threaded with something I can’t name—scrapes down my spine. It’s been days since I last heard it, yet the sound of it unravels me instantly.
I hesitate.
I should say no. I should tell him that I don’t need his help, that I don’t like how his presence slips under my skin and leaves me raw. I should demand space, demand distance, before I lose myself in whatever this is, but my throat stays tight.
His voice doesn’t waver, doesn’t rise. Patient, but firm enough that resistance feels useless.
“Get in.”
Something in me falters. My fingers curl tighter around the book I’m holding, the one anchor I have left. I exhale slowly, trying to steady the tremor in my chest. Then, before I can talk myself out of it, I move.
The car door opens with a muted click. I slide inside, and the sound of it shutting behind me feels like a lock turning.
A decision sealed, and I know, without a single doubt, that I’ve just stepped into something I won’t be able to walk away from.
The car hums to life, the quiet engine filling the silence between us. I hear everything now with the new hearing aid: the steady drone of the motor, the subtle click of the turn signal, the faint, rhythmic tap of Alex’s fingers against the wheel. Each sound is sharper, more intrusive than I’m used to, making the silence feel even heavier.
I steal glances at him as he drives, his profile is unreadable as always, jaw sharp, eyes fixed on the road like nothing else exists. He doesn’t acknowledge me, doesn’t so much as shift in his seat.
I should thank him. I should at least say something. But the words knot in my throat, tangled up with the anger simmering low in my chest, because I am angry. Angry that he’s inserting himself into my life. Furious that he has this pull on me when he shouldn’t. I should be scared of him, too, especially after the things I saw on the news this morning.
Any sane person would be, but I’m not. And that scares me the most. I have no idea where he’s taking me, but I already know I’ll follow.
When the car slows and glides up to a sleek, glass-walled building, my stomach knots, and the valet rushes forward before the car has even stopped, all polished shoes and white gloves.
A restaurant, not just any restaurant—a fancy one. The kind of place people like me only see on TV.
