Daniel's pleasant, unassuming face was already fading, a watercolor painting left in the rain. In its place, etched in stark, unforgiving lines, was the memory of silver eyes and a voice that could cut glass or weave spells.
'No, I shouldn't think of him.'
But the echo of that single, traitorous thought from the restaurant, a touch of lovers resurfaced, shattering the illusion of 'normal'. She craved for a touch, the phantom sensation of a deliberate, possessive grip from a man who was her enemy, her… what? There was no word for what Lysander was to her.
The car glided through the glittering city, a capsule of manufactured comfort carrying a soul in turmoil. She instructed the driver to take her to her house after a hard day's work.
Chloe was waiting in Alexa's room, buzzing with excitement. "Well?" she demanded, practically bouncing on the balls of her feet as Alexa stepped in. "He texted me. He said you were even more incredible in person. So? Give me details. Is he as dreamy as his LinkedIn profile?"
Alexa offered a weary smile, "He was very nice, Chloe. A perfect gentleman."
"Nice?" Chloe's face fell slightly. "Nice is what you say about a well-behaved puppy. Was there a spark? Any chemistry?"
"The chemistry was… polite," Alexa said, removing her coat with deliberate slowness. "It was a very pleasant dinner."
"Pleasant." Chloe deflated, slumping onto a white sofa. "Oh, Alexa. What am I going to do with you? The man is successful, handsome, charming. What more could you possibly want?"
The question hung in the air, heavy and unanswerable. What did she want? She wanted the intellectual thrill of a verbal duel. She wanted the terrifying, exhilarating feeling of being truly seen, even if the one seeing her was a monster. She wanted to forget the world-ending implications and just… feel that raw, unchained energy again.
"I'm tired, Chloe," she said, her voice soft but final. "It was a long day. Thank you for setting it up. Really."
Chloe, sensing a wall she couldn't breach, sighed and stood. "Okay, okay. Get some rest. We have that voiceover session at ten." She left, shutting the door silently .
Alone, the house was vast and silent, looks like everyone is out. Alexa changed into soft, loose clothing, the silk feeling like a mockery against her agitated skin. She paced the length of the living room, her bare feet silent on the cool floor. The memory of Daniel's chuckle was a tinny sound compared to the low, rich one that haunted her. The feel of his dry, callous hands on her.
' He's dangerous. He's playing you.' She mumbled.
Her stomach growled "Argh.. you've got to be kidding me."
She moved to the kitchen, a space of gleaming steel and minimalist design, and began to assemble food. She piled leftovers from her own well-stocked fridge into a container, slices of roasted chicken, a chunk of crusty bread, some cheese, a handful of grapes. It was a haphazard collection.
She changed into dark, nondescript clothing—black trousers and a soft, grey sweater, and pulled a hood over her hair. She looked like a shadow moving through her own home, she just wanted to make sure no one sees her.
extinguished, had taken the wheel.
She distracted the guards there with a pebble . The night shift was a different beast, the urgency was muted, the hallways lit by emergency lighting, casting long, eerie shadows. Her footsteps echoed in the profound silence, a sound that seemed to announce her treachery to the world.
The guard here, looked up from his monitor, surprised.
"Ms. Devon? Everything alright? We didn't have you on the schedule."
She held up the container, her face a mask of cool professionalism. " It's just a follow up . He's more responsive at night." The lie slipped out, smoothly. "I've brought him some food. A gesture of goodwill. Sometimes it loosens their tongues."
He looked skeptical. He glanced at the monitor showing Lysander's cell. The man was, as she predicted, sitting on his cot, back against the wall, awake and perfectly still.
"Alright," he said, hesitantly. "But because of President Lucian. I have to stand by the door. The second anything seems off, I'm in there."
"Of course," Alexa said, her throat tight. "That's standard procedure."
The electronic lock disengaged with a heavy clunk. The door to his cell hissed open. She took a deep, shaky breath, stepped inside after knocking the guard off, and the door sealed shut behind her.
The air in the cell was cool and sterile, but it crackled with his presence. He didn't move, didn't even look at her at first. He simply sat there, a study in contained power even in confinement. He was dressed in simple clothes, but on him, they looked like the garments of a fallen king.
"To what do I owe the pleasure, Alexa?" His voice was a low murmur, devoid of surprise, as if he had been expecting her all along. Finally, his head turned, and those silver eyes pinned her in place, gleaming in the dim light. They traveled from her hood-shadowed face down to the container in her hands. "Have you taken up a late-night catering service? Or did your date with the venture capitalist leave you feeling… charitable?"
Her blood ran cold. How could he possibly know? He shouldn't know anything about her life outside these walls. The realization was a terrifying reminder of his reach, his network, his uncanny intelligence.
She fought to keep her composure, walking forward and placing the container on the small metal table bolted to the floor. "I had my meal alone and I couldn't finish it," she said, her voice clipped. "It seemed a waste."
A slow, infuriating smile touched his lips. "How thoughtful. The celebrated Alexa Devon, slumming it with leftovers for the monster in the cage, I wonder how your brother would react to that. Did you enjoy your meal with Mr. Blinks? I hear the scallops were passable, but the company was… pleasant."
The word 'pleasant' was a weapon in his mouth, laced with mockery. A flash of that hot, familiar irritation sparked within her, so much more potent than the dull thud of Daniel's comment.
"Are you having me followed?" she demanded, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
"I don't need to have you followed, Alexa. I just need to understand you. And you are a creature of predictable rebellion. You spend an evening with a man who represents everything safe and mundane, and it feels like a cage worse than this one. So you run. You run to the one place, the one person, that makes you feel something other than bored. You run to me." Suddenly the cell felt impossibly small as he took a step toward her, not threatening, but dominant. "Tell me I'm wrong."
She stood her ground, lifting her chin. "You're despicable."
"But am I wrong?" he pressed, his voice dropping to that intimate, conspiratorial tone that felt like a physical caress. "Did you look into his nice, brown eyes and see only a reflection of the woman you're supposed to be? And did it terrify you? So much so that you had to come here, to the man whose eyes show you the woman you truly are?"
"Keep dreaming ," she shot back, the heat rising in her cheeks.
He was close now, close enough for her to feel the heat radiating from his body, to smell the clean, stark scent of soap on his skin. "I know you have a spirit that craves a challenge, not a placid existence. I know you lie in your luxurious bed at night and you don't dream of sailing trips to Bali. You dream of this." He gestured to himself. "You dream of me."
His words were a direct hit, an arrow finding the center of a target she hadn't even known she possessed. The truth of them was so absolute, so humiliating, that it stripped her bare.
"Stop it," she whispered, the command devoid of its earlier force.
"Why?" he murmured, his gaze dropping to her lips. "You didn't come here for me to be silent. You came here for a reaction. You came here to feel. So feel."
The air between them was thick enough to swim through. Every nerve in her body was screaming, a chaotic symphony of fear, anger, and a desperate, clawing desire. This was the terrifying, exhilarating fall.
"He's safe," she said, the words a final, weak defense.
"Safe is a gilded cage, Alexa. And you were born to fly, even if it's through fire." His hand came up, not to grab her, but to hover beside her face. And his eyes looking at her like he was asking for permission.
And then he did it.
He closed the distance. His lips met hers.
It was not a gentle kiss. It was a claim. A searing, possessive brand that shot through her entire nervous system like a bolt of lightning. It was heat and pressure and a shocking, devastating softness. It was unrestrained, dangerous, and utterly, devastatingly real.
Her mind went blank. The furious internal debate, the fear, it all vanished, wiped clean by the sensory overload of his mouth on hers. She couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think for some time. Soon, she began to respond to the kiss.
Just as suddenly as it began, it was over.
Hope you guys like this chapter. Don't forget to like and comment. Share this story with your friends(✷‿✷). Read my other novel: Master Lu's Young Mistress. Thank you :)