Sorcha jolted toward the door, gripping the handle as she called out, "Someone's in here!"
A muffled apology came from the other side, followed by retreating footsteps. Sorcha let out a breath, turning back to Karios with a defiant glint in her eye. Her pulse was still racing, the moment between them shattered too soon.
But Karios didn't even look at her. Without a word, he turned, pulled the door open, and walked out.
Sorcha's hands curled into fists. Always. Always, something had to ruin it when things started getting interesting. With a frustrated stomp, she exhaled sharply, then forced herself to calm down. Just a few more days. Soon, her father and Karios' wife would be gone. Then it would be just the two of them. No more interruptions.
Straightening her shoulders, she stepped out of the bathroom. The cool evening air brushed against her skin, but her eyes searched for Karios. Gone.
Instead, someone else stood near the entrance, waiting. The guy she had been paired with earlier. He spotted her and grinned, lifting a hand in a friendly wave.
Sorcha sighed inwardly but managed a polite smile as she approached. Why is he still here?
"Waiting for you," he answered as if he'd read her thoughts. "I couldn't let a girl walk home alone."
For the first time that evening, Sorcha's smile became genuine—small but real. At least someone gets it. Unlike Karios, who always acted like she was just another problem to brush aside.
What she didn't know was that Karios was watching. Parked in the shadows a short distance away, his fingers tightened around the steering wheel. His jaw clenched as he saw the boy wave, saw Sorcha smiling back.
His stomach twisted.
Liar. And she claims to love only me.
Without another glance, he turned the car around and drove away.
Meanwhile, Sorcha walked alongside her unwanted companion, the silence between them thick. To him, it was comfortable. To her, it was awkward.
"I can call a taxi," she offered after a while.
He hesitated. "I don't mind walking… I'd like to spend more time with you."
Sorcha swallowed a sigh. She didn't like him, not in that way, but she also didn't want to be cruel. So, she only nodded, saying nothing.
The streetlights cast long shadows as they continued down the quiet road. Eventually, she stopped, turning to him. "I'm going to take a taxi now. My house is still far, and I'm tired."
A flicker of disappointment crossed his face, but he nodded. "Alright."
She didn't wait for a response. Lifting a hand, she hailed a taxi, sliding into the backseat the moment it pulled up. As the car rolled forward, she glanced out the window, watching the boy grow smaller in the distance.
Wait… what was his name again?
She frowned. He had told her this morning, hadn't he? But it was already slipping from her mind.
Sorcha stepped out of the taxi, handing the driver a few bills before shutting the door behind her. The car's taillights disappeared down the dimly lit street as she turned toward the grand entrance of her home.
You might wonder—why take a taxi when her family could afford a private driver? Simple. Sorcha preferred it this way. She liked moving unnoticed, slipping through the city without drawing attention to her name.
As she pushed open the front door, she paused. Voices drifted from the living room. Her brows furrowed. Karios?
Sure enough, when she stepped inside, there he was—sitting with her father, Damien, their conversation low and businesslike. Across the room, Elena stood in the kitchen, of all places, helping the maid prepare something.
Sorcha blinked. Elena? Cooking? That was a rare sight. The woman loathed the kitchen, preferred restaurants and catered meals. But tonight, she was standing there, stirring something in a pot like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Sorcha kept her thoughts to herself, giving Elena a small nod in greeting.
"You're home," Damien noted, barely looking up from his conversation with Karios. "Go change and come down for dinner."
Sorcha turned to Karios, waiting—hoping—for even a glance. A flicker of acknowledgment.
Nothing.
He didn't even lift his head.
Her fingers clenched at her sides, frustration bubbling beneath her skin. With a sharp exhale, she spun on her heel and made her way upstairs, unaware that Elena's gaze followed her suspiciously.
Sorcha stood in front of her wardrobe, lips pressing together. Fine. If Karios wanted to pretend she didn't exist, she'd make it impossible for him to ignore her.
She reached for a silky nightgown—short, delicate, designed to draw attention. The fabric slipped over her skin like water, and she ran a hand through her hair, giving herself one last look in the mirror.
Let's see if you can ignore me now, Karios.
As she descended the staircase, the murmur of conversation met her ears. Then, a voice—Elena's—caught her attention.
"Why don't we stay the night?" Elena asked, her tone light, almost casual.
Sorcha slowed her steps, ears pricked.
A beat of silence. Then Karios' voice, low and indifferent. "Alright."
Something in Sorcha's stomach twisted. She tightened her grip on the banister.
Of course. He'll stay the night… but not for me.
Sorcha descended the stairs with quiet confidence, the silk of her nightgown skimming her thighs. She moved to her seat at the dining table, keeping her gaze deliberately neutral as Elena settled down across from her. The maid served their food, the quiet clinking of dishes filling the heavy silence.
No one spoke.
It wasn't until Damien cleared his throat that the tension finally broke.
"After today, just two more days until I leave," he said, setting his fork down. "I've arranged for my second-in-command to oversee things at the company until I return." He paused, turning to Karios. "But I want to ask you again—please take care of Sorcha while I'm gone. I know she can be… stubborn, but bear with her."
Sorcha's jaw tightened. "I'm not a child, Dad. And I'm not stubborn."
Karios barely glanced at her before answering Damien. "Don't worry. I'll take care of her until you're back."
Damien nodded gratefully, and with that, the conversation ended. They finished the meal in silence before Karios and Damien retired to the study, their voices drifting away as they discussed business. Elena excused herself soon after, disappearing into the guest room for the night.
Sorcha remained in the living room, curled up on the couch, eyes on the TV but mind elsewhere. She wasn't watching—she was waiting.
For Karios.
Minutes stretched into an hour, her eyelids growing heavy. Just as sleep began to creep in, she heard the study door click open.
Karios.
His tall frame emerged from the hallway, his expression unreadable as he noticed her still sitting there. He sighed. "Why are you still awake?"
Sorcha didn't answer. Instead, she stood, closing the distance between them in a few slow steps. Then, without warning, she grabbed his wrist and tugged him toward the dimly lit corner of the living room.
His brows furrowed. "Sorcha—"
She pressed him against the wall, hands braced on either side of him, her voice a low murmur. "I'm horny, Karios." Her breath fanned against his neck. "I need you."
His eyes darkened. His hands twitched at his sides, caught between pushing her away and pulling her in. "Go to bed," he said, his voice rough, strained.
She ignored him.
Her arms wrapped around his neck, her lips finding his in a desperate kiss. He stiffened, his hands gripping her waist as if to pry her off—but then she moved lower, her fingers trailing down until they found him.
A sharp inhale.
His muscles tensed as her hand stroked him through his pants, feeling him grow hard beneath her touch.
"To hell with it," Karios muttered under his breath.
In one swift motion, he spun her around, pressing her back against the wall. His lips crashed against hers, his hands roaming, pulling her closer, deeper. She gasped against his mouth, her nails dragging over his back as heat curled between them.
And then—
"Sorcha?"
Her father's voice rang through the house, freezing them in place.
Their breathing was heavy, chests rising and falling in unison as the weight of reality slammed down on them.
Footsteps. Getting closer.
Sorcha swallowed hard. Karios' hands were still on her hips, his breath warm against her skin.
"Shit," he muttered.