Chapter 18: Her Message
The Fenix estate was silent in the early morning hours. A hush had settled over its gilded halls, the kind that came not from peace but from the weight of power slumbering behind every closed door.
Kian sat on the edge of his bed, bare-chested, high-collared shirt abandoned on the floor nearby. The marks on his body still throbbed beneath the low light—the ones she had left.
The ones that wouldn't fade from his mind.
He had been trying not to think about her. Trying to focus. To breathe. But his phone buzzed once—an unknown number. No contact. No name.
Just a message.
You're not very good at hiding bruises, Kian.
His entire body stilled.
He read it once.
Twice.
His pulse didn't race. It slowed. Like his blood itself was listening.
His thumb hovered over the screen as he read the message again. Then typed.
Kian:
Who is this?
A moment passed. Then another buzz.
You looked beautiful in black.
His eyes narrowed.
It couldn't be.
No one was supposed to know. No one saw them leave together. He had checked. Every camera. Every hallway. Every servant's eyes had been facing away.
Except hers.
Except her.
But still, he didn't jump to conclusions. He needed proof. Logic. Clarity.
Kian:
Tell me who you are.
Does it matter?
His jaw clenched. He leaned back against the bedframe, phone balanced in his hand.
Kian:
You're playing a dangerous game.
Aren't you the one who likes danger?
His lips parted slightly. That voice—he could almost hear it through the words.
Still, he wasn't certain.
And he hated that he wanted it to be her.
Kian:
It does. Because I haven't stopped thinking about you.
There. Unfiltered. Brutally honest.
Silence stretched long on the other end, like she was thinking. Or smiling.
Then finally:
And if I told you, would you come running?
Kian:
That depends.
On what?
Kian:
Whether you're real... or just the ghost that's been haunting me since last night.
The reply didn't come for a full minute.
Poor thing. Haunted already?
He scowled at the screen.
Kian:
Stop playing games. Just tell me—
Another message came in—interrupting him.
I saw you in the mirror, Kian. Every inch of you. Every breath.
That was it.
His fingers stilled.
His throat tightened.
It was her.
It had to be.
Only she had been that close. Only she had seen the things no one else would ever see.
And somehow, that fact didn't unnerve him. It… calmed something in him.
Like a thread pulling taut, then still.
He stared at her message for a long while. Then typed again.
Kian:
How did you get this number?
My mother controls over 80% of the world's data, the networks, the communication lines, even the encrypted codes you so cherish.
He swallowed.
Right. Of course.
He'd forgotten for a moment—forgotten who she was. Who her mother was. What her bloodline carried.
Kian:
So this was easy for you.
Everything is easy for me.
Of course it was.
She had already owned the night.
Now she was owning the day after.
He took a breath. Then let his jealousy show in his next message—just a hint. Not enough to be childish, but enough to sting.
Kian:
Do you always stalk the men you devour?
Another long pause.
He knew what kind of answer he couldn't take. He wasn't ready to hear her say yes. Not if it meant he was just one of many.
Then her response came in.
You're the only one.
And then, like a bullet:
I'm still a virgin.
Don't forget it.
The phone slid a fraction in his hand.
He stared.
He read it again.
Once. Twice. Five times.
Everything in him went silent.
Still.
He had no words for the way his chest twisted—tightened—and then, for just a moment… released.
Whatever they had shared, whatever line they'd come to… she had stopped it.
Not because she didn't want him.
But because it was real. And she wasn't going to let it be blurred by the haze of circumstance or the poison in his system.
She was claiming her choice.
And in doing so… she claimed him.
He didn't reply.
He couldn't.
There were no words powerful enough—not in this moment.
And so he lay back, phone on his chest, heart pounding, neck still burning with her kiss.
He closed his eyes.
Sleep didn't come.
But her presence did.
Everywhere.