A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL : CHAPTER 121 – 130
The touch was feather-light, yet it sent a shiver down my spine, a sensation that was both thrilling and terrifying all at once.
“Go upstairs and pack up,” he murmured, his voice low and commanding. “I don’t have much time.”
Before I could respond, he leaned closer, pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, his lips warm against my skin. The gesture was brief, yet it left an indelible mark, a lingering heat that seemed to burn long after he had pulled away.
I watched him retreat up the stairs, his figure disappearing into the shadows at the top. The silence in his wake was almost deafening, pressing down on me with a weight I couldn’t quite understand.
I exhaled slowly, releasing a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding, my heart still racing in my chest.
There was something about him tonight, something darker, more intense, as though he was holding back an entire storm within himself.
I turned back to my plate, though my appetite had long since vanished, my mind too consumed with the weight of his words, the promise of something unknown waiting for us in New York.
Lost in thought, I barely noticed Lucien approaching until he was standing beside me, his gaze soft with concern. “Are you fine?” he asked, his voice gentle, the faintest trace of worry in his eyes.
I nodded, offering him a small smile. “I’m okay,” I said softly, though I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince him or myself. “And…about earlier—I didn’t mean to kiss you.” I reached out, taking his hand in mine, hoping he could see the sincerity in my eyes. “I hope we’re good now?”
His reaction was immediate, startlingly so. He jerked his hand back, his eyes wide with what looked like shock or perhaps something deeper, something more intense.
He raised his hands defensively, his fingers covering his mouth as he took a step back, his gaze fixed on me with a mixture of disbelief and…something else, something I couldn’t quite name.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded, his voice low and edged with something fierce. “Touching a man like that?”
I blinked, taken aback by the intensity in his voice. “It’s just a hand…” I began, unsure of what I’d done to provoke such a reaction.
His gaze sharpened, his brows knitting in irritation. “Keep your hands and your mouth to yourself!” he growled, his voice barely more than a whisper but carrying a weight that felt almost oppressive. “Are you insane?”
Before I could respond, he turned on his heel, striding away from the table, his steps echoing through the hall as he disappeared around the corner.
I watched him go, the silence settling around me once more, thick and stifling.
It was strange, this reaction of his. It left me with a strange energy, an uneasy feeling that lingered long after he’d gone. There was something in his gaze, he must have really hate that kiss.
I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts that crowded my mind, and turned to head upstairs. My room was just as I’d left it, the familiar sight of my few belongings scattered across the bed bringing a small sense of comfort.
I began gathering them, folding each item with care, letting the repetitive motion calm my racing thoughts.
Packing was a simple task, though it felt heavier than it should have. Each piece of clothing, each item tucked away in my bag felt like a reminder of the life I’d left behind, the ordinary world that had seemed so distant since I’d come here.
And yet, the thought of leaving again—of stepping into the unknown once more—filled me with a strange mixture of excitement and dread.
As I zipped up my bag, I caught my reflection in the mirror, my face pale in the dim light.
There was something different about me, something in my eyes that hadn’t been there before. I looked…older, perhaps, or maybe just more worn.
The girl who had come here, who had been thrust into this strange, dangerous world, felt like a distant memory, a part of me that I could barely recognize.
I reached out, touching the mirror’s cool surface, as if I could somehow reach through it, connect with that version of myself who had been so naïve, so unprepared for what was to come.
But the image that stared back at me was a stranger, someone who had been shaped and molded by forces beyond her control.
A DEAL WITH THE DEVIL : CHAPTER 121 – 130
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