Page 32 of Until She's Mine
A waiter passes with a tray of fresh champagne, and I snatch another one, downing half in one go. The bubbles burn my throat, but the warmth that spreads through my chest is welcome. It dulls the sharp edges of my thoughts, if only for a moment.
Then I move towards my fiancé.
Tobias is leaning against the bar, his suit askew, a drink in one hand and a smirk on his face. He’s deep in conversation with Charlie, their heads bent together in that conspiratorial way that always sets me on edge.
“—thought she’d never leave,” Tobias hiccups, swirling his drink. “Luckily, room service arrived just in time to distract her while I slipped out.”
Lockwood grins. “The Swiss flight attendant or the redhead from the—”
My grip tightens, and the glass in my hand cracks.
Tobias’s head snaps up, his bleary eyes widening as he spots me. His smirk falters, and he looks almost guilty. Almost. Then he laughs, a little too loudly, and raises his glass in my direction.
“Evelyn! Didn’t see you there, babe.” His hands are clammy as they grab mine. “We were just talking about the Swiss Alps. You’d love it there. Fresh air, breathtaking views.” His voice wavers, the lie clumsy on his tongue.
I smile. “Of course, it sounds lovely.”
Tobias relaxes, and his grip on my hands loosens. But then his gaze shifts over my shoulder, and his jaw tightens just enough to betray him. I don’t need to turn around to know who’s there. I can feel Lucian’s presence like a shadow creeping across the room, heavy and inescapable.
“Evelyn,” Lucian’s voice cuts through the chatter.
I don’t turn around. “Excuse me, I need some fresh air.” I step away from Tobias, his hand slipping from mine as I walk toward the gardens. The muffled laughter and clinking glassesfade behind me as I step onto the gravel path that winds through the estate’s manicured grounds.
The evening air swallows my ragged breaths. My heels crunch loudly against the gravel in the stillness of the garden. The path is lined with roses, their scent heavy and sweet, but the petals glow like drops of blood in the last light of the setting sun. I walk faster, desperate to put distance between myself and the suffocating crowd.
I make it three steps before my knees give out.
The gravel bites into my palms as I catch myself, the pain grounding me in a way the champagne couldn’t. My breath comes in short, shallow gasps, and I cry with ugly, gasping sobs I can’t contain.
This is what my life is about to be until my deathbed: smiling through the pain, pretending I don’t hear the whispers, the laughter, the things Tobias says about me when he thinks I’m not listening. The tears blur the roses into smears of red and black, like a painting left out in the rain.
A shadow falls across the gravel path.
Lucian stands motionless a few feet away, his black tie loosened, a half-drunk glass of whiskey dangling from his fingers. Sunset sculpts the hollows of his cheeks, the cruel line of his mouth.
His gaze sweeps over me, taking in the way I’m crumpled on the ground, my dress torn and dirtied, my hands scraped raw from the gravel. For a moment, he says nothing. Then he sets the glass down on a nearby stone bench and crouches beside me.
He doesn’t ask if I’m alright.
My throat feels raw, my words trapped beneath the weight of everything I can’t say. I wipe at my cheeks with trembling hands, the tears smearing as I try to compose myself. But Lucian doesn’t let me. His hand reaches out, his fingers brushing against my face, catching my tears before they can fall. The touchis so gentle, so unexpected, that it only makes the sob in my chest tighten further.
“Look at me,” he says softly.
I shake my head, my fingers clenching into fists against the gravel. “I can’t.”
“You can. You’ve always had the strength to face what you fear most.”
I turn my head slowly, meeting his gaze. He doesn’t need to speak for me to understand the question hanging between us. It’s the one I’ve been avoiding for weeks.
His jaw tightens. “You knew from the beginning how this was going to end. The never-ending trips. The whispers behind your back. The way he smells like another woman’s perfume every time he—”
“Stop,” I plead.
He doesn’t. His hands frame my face, forcing me to meet his gaze. “You deserve more than scraps of attention from a man who’ll never—”
I kiss him.
Our teeth clash, the taste of whiskey and rage burning my tongue. Lucian groans, his fingers sliding in my hair as he drags me against him. Everywhere we touch ignites.
