SARAH

“Sarah…”

“Yeah?” I blinked twice, staring at James through my phone, realizing this was the third time I had zoned out.

“You sure everything is alright?” His light brown eyes looked back at me, shadows of sadness clouding their usual warmth.

I cleared my throat, sitting up straighter, my gaze skimming across the garden I was sitting in before landing on the untouched mango drink Alfred had brought a few minutes ago.“I’m fine, just…”

“Not here.” He finished the sentence for me. I took a deep breath, forcing a slow smile to my lips, though it didn’t reach my eyes.

“I’m here,” I assured him, though even I could hear the hollow edge in my voice. “My mind has just been running wild ever since…”

“Ever since what?” he asked, leaning in as though trying to reach me across the screen.

Ever since that night. No matter how hard I tried to sleep away the memory of that moment with Chris, my heart and mind refused to let go of it. That night lingered like a haunting melody. I didn’t want to think of it, but I couldn’t stop. The longing stares he gave me under the moonlight—how even without music, the cool breeze seemed to hum a song just for us.

I hated this.

I hated how protective he had been when I accidentally broke the glass.

I hated the way he acted as though I belonged to him.

When he was promised to someone else.

But most of all, I hated how tenderly he kissed me, how I had almost broken down. And I hated how tempted I was to follow him to his room when I felt the heat spreading between my legs, consuming me whole.

“You zoned out again…” James sighed, his voice breaking through the haze, regret settling heavy in my chest.

I needed to focus on James. To remember that all of this—this charade—was for him. It had been a month and three weeks since I started living in this palace, and he had been asking nonstop when I could visit. I didn’t know how to tell him no without offering a solid reason. Lying to someone you love was so damn hard.

“Not zoning out, James,” I said quickly, forcing a lightness I didn’t feel. “Just thinking of a lie I’d tell my boss if he agreed to give me a vacation.”

His face instantly lit up, his white teeth shining as he grinned. “I’m sure he’ll agree. He has to. You’ve been there so long, and I miss you.”

“I miss you too, chap.” I smiled faintly.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you—the doctor came by a few days ago and said my hospital bills from before have been paid.”

I already knew that. The memory of the nurse explaining how Mr. Greg had covered three months of treatment flashed in my mind, tightening the knot of unease in my chest.

“Oh, yes. I managed to pay for that.” I faked a smile, leaning down to grab the mango drink. The coolness of the glass steadied my shaking hand as I took a sip, trying to calm the nervous knot in my stomach. I was always this weak around James when I lied.

“Oh, thank you for that. You know how grateful I am for everything you’ve done, Sarah. Thank you.”

His words were sincere, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. Something was wrong.

“You’re hiding something, James,” I said, my tone sharper now. He averted his gaze, fiddling nervously with the edge of his hospital gown.

“I…” His lips trembled as he looked down, avoiding my eyes. “The doctor said the bills have increased.”

“What?” My voice cracked, the word escaping like a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Tears welled up, blurring my vision. “What do you mean they’ve increased?”

“He said the payments covered accommodation and schooling… and some of the pain relief pills, but—”

“But it wasn’t enough for the surgery. Right?” I cut him off, the words tumbling from my mouth before I could stop them.

He nodded slowly, his eyes refusing to meet mine. I knew what he was about to say before the words even left his lips.

“Sarah." he began. "I think it's best if you just—”

“Don’t.” My voice was a warning, sharp and edged with raw emotion. “Don’t you dare tell me to give up on you.”

He opened his mouth, but I raised a hand, stopping him. “You always do this, and it kills me. It fucking kills me, James.” A tear slipped down my cheek, hot and heavy, and I knew my eyes were turning red.

“Sarah—”

“I’ll talk to you back.” I said, my voice breaking. I sniffed and cut the call before he could say another word.

I sat there, alone in the garden, the phone trembling in my hands as tears streamed down my face.

Life was too cruel to me. What had I done to deserve such relentless problems? Whenever I felt like I was one step closer to solving my troubles, they always rebounded, heavier and multiplied, suffocating any hope I dared to hold onto.

The money I would earn after this heist was beginning to feel like a drop in the ocean. On one hand, there was James and his surgery. I knew the hospital would likely inflate the costs if things went south or if they decided he needed more expensive pills. On the other hand, there was Mr. Grey, waiting to pounce the moment this ridiculous fake dating charade was over. He’d start hounding me for his money without mercy.

I needed to go back.

I needed to take control because everything was spiraling out of hand, and it all felt worse because I wasn’t home.

Wiping away the hot tears streaking my cheeks, I stood up, gulping down the entire mango drink to steady my shaking throat. My chest felt tight, but I forced my feet to move toward Chris’s office. Alfred had mentioned he’d been busy ever since his coronation.

It had been days since I’d last seen him. Days that stretched unbearably long, filled with questions I couldn’t ask and emotions I couldn’t name. It almost felt like he was avoiding me. Yet, every time a maid brought me breakfast, lunch, or dinner, they’d casually mention that Chris had cooked it himself.

My heart always flipped hearing his name roll off their lips. And maybe—just maybe—I found myself waiting for him each night, foolishly hoping he’d show up like he always used to.

I’d even started leaving my door unlocked, secretly wishing he’d sneak into my room at midnight, hold me, or… do whatever he wanted with me.

It was dumb. Foolish. Embarrassing. Yes, I knew.

With all the denial I told myself, I still wanted him to come to me, tease me, stare at me like I was his world even though I clearly wasn't and perhaps tell me all the dirtiest thoughts he wanted to do to me if I allowed them.

It was a delusion I was ready to consume anytime and day.

Passing the guards lining the hallway, I found myself standing in front of Chris’s office door. I hadn’t even known he had an office until Alfred casually mentioned it, perhaps noticing how restless I’d been since Chris disappeared from my days.

I could have texted him, but what would I even say? Our conversations always felt more alive when we were face-to-face. Texting him felt wrong, like I’d be admitting that I missed him more than I was ready to admit to myself. And anyway, why should I be the one to make the first move?

Yes, I was petty like that.

Taking a deep breath, I wrapped my fingers around the doorknob and slowly pushed it open.

The first thing that caught my attention was the towering piles of thick books lining the wooden shelves. The room resembled a cozy mini library, the smell of aged paper and faint traces of sandalwood filling the air. I stepped inside, shutting the door softly behind me, my gaze sweeping across the room.

And then my eyes stopped on Christopher.

He was seated at a desk, his head resting on his folded arms as though the weight of the world had finally forced him into a restless sleep. His dark lashes cast faint shadows across his cheeks, and the light streaming through the window fell softly on his face, giving him an almost ethereal glow.

He wore glasses, the delicate frames perched on his nose, amplifying the soft, intellectual air he carried even in sleep. His sleeves were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his forearms. They were lean and muscular, the veins prominent against his skin, and they looked impossibly strong. I couldn’t help but stare at them, at the way his strength seemed so casual, so effortless, yet so commanding.

I kept moving closer, unable to stop myself, unable to tear my gaze away from him. It was crazy, wasn’t it? I’d been shouting at him days ago, telling him to leave me alone, to give me space. And now? Now I was here, desperately wanting him more than ever, drawn to him like he was gravity itself.

I have fallen too deep.

How could I let this happen? How had I gone from pushing him away with all my might to feeling like I couldn’t breathe without being near him? The contradiction burned in my chest, hot and unrelenting.

It was maddening.

I didn’t even realize I had moved closer, standing just a few steps away from him. My hand hovered inches from his face, reaching toward the stray strand of hair that had fallen near his right eye.

Then I paused mid-motion, my breath catching in my throat as my senses suddenly came rushing back, snapping back like a slap on the face.

What on earth am I doing?

Heat crept up my neck as I tried to pull away, mortified by my impulsiveness. I started to pull away, intending to retreat and salvage whatever shred of dignity I had left, but before I could, a strong hand caught mine.

In a blink, I found myself on Christopher’s lap.

His arm was firm around my waist, holding me in place, and his green eyes locked onto mine with an intensity that stole the air from my lungs. The warmth of his touch seeped through the fabric of my dress, and the proximity made my heart race wildly, erratically.

“Chris,” I managed to speak, searching for words and there was none.

He didn’t say a word, his gaze flickering to my lips before returning to my eyes. It was the kind of look that made me feel like the only person in the world, like every argument, every wall I’d tried to build between us was nothing more than paper he could tear through effortlessly.

His lips quirked into the faintest of smirks, the kind that always made my stomach flip. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?”

I opened my mouth to respond, but no words came out. How could I explain something I didn’t even understand myself?

His smirk deepened as he shifted slightly, his arm tightening around my waist. “Did you miss me perhaps?” he questioned, his voice low and edged with something I couldn’t quite place. “That's why you're here, standing in my office, reaching for me like you couldn’t stay away.”

“That’s not—” I stammered, trying to move off his lap. This was all too much for me to handle right now. I was confused and conflicted all at once that being this close to him wasn't helping at all. He refused to let me go anyways. His grip held firm on my hip, drawing me so close that I had to use my hand, prevent any more physically contact.

“Not what?” he pressed, his green eyes narrowing slightly, daring me to deny it.

I swallowed hard, my words failing me again as his other hand came up, brushing a strand of my hair behind my ear. The touch was deceptively gentle, but the intensity of his gaze was anything but.

“I…” My throat went dry, my pulse hammering against his hold.

“You’re not very convincing, Sarah.” His tone was calm, yet it held an undercurrent of smugness that made my blood boil and my heart race simultaneously. “Especially when you’re sitting here, trembling in my arms.”

My lips parted, ready to fire back some kind of defense, but then his thumb lightly grazed my cheek, silencing me. My breath hitched as he leaned in, his face mere inches from mine.

“I missed you,” he said, his voice softer now, almost vulnerable.

That admission cracked something inside me. I couldn’t hold back the flood of emotions that surged forward—frustration, longing, and something I wasn’t ready to name.

"No, you didn't," I muttered to myself.

"Hmm, what did you say?" He tilted his head and I felt him drawing out slow circles on my laps.

I bit my lip, my thoughts flickering to the reason I’d come here in the first place. “Nothing,” I finally said, breaking the tension. “I want to ask something of you.”

His brows lifted slightly, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Go on.”

I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. “I would like to go back home.”

The slow, soothing circles his thumb was tracing on my lap stopped abruptly. A deep frown etched onto his face. “Why?” His tone was clipped, already betraying his dislike for the idea.

“I want to see my brother. He’s sick.”

“Oh,” he said, his expression softening. The frown melted into something almost tender—concern. “James, right? Is he okay? I mean… is he getting better?”

“Yes, he’s fine,” I nodded quickly, not surprised that he knew his name since I blurted out about James during that night.

"So, can I go visit him?” My expectations were high, my gut telling me that he would agree but my mind said otherwise.

He nodded slowly. "Sure. Why not?”

Oh thank god—

“As long as I follow you too,” he cut in smoothly. “Yes, you can go.”

He can't be serious. “You can’t be serious.” I stared at him, dumbfounded.

“Oh, I’m very serious,” he said, leaning back slightly, his arm still firmly around my waist. His smirk returned, faint but undeniably present. “If you think I’m letting you go without me, you’re delusional.”

I glared at him, the warmth from his arm around my waist now feeling like a restraint. “You can’t just follow me everywhere,” I said, trying to sound firm, though my voice wavered under his unwavering gaze.

His expression remained calm, but his eyes flashed with something dangerous, something possessive. “And why not? You’re mine to protect.”

“I’m not yours,” I shot back, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

For a moment, silence fell between us. His grip on my waist tightened, just enough for me to feel the tension in his body. “Say that again,” he said, his voice dangerously soft.

I swallowed hard, suddenly regretting my defiance. “Chris…”

“You don’t get to deny what’s between us,” he continued, cutting me off. His voice was low, steady, but every word carried weight. “Not when I’ve seen the way you look at me. Not when I know you leave your door unlocked at night, hoping I’ll come in.”

My breath caught, and my cheeks burned at the truth of his words. “That’s not—”

“Don’t lie to me, Sarah,” he said, his tone sharp enough to cut through my denial. “Not when you’re sitting here, trembling in my arms, asking for my permission to leave.”

I looked away, unable to meet his piercing gaze. My heart was pounding so loudly I was sure he could hear it.

He leaned in, his lips brushing against the shell of my ear as he whispered, “You can go, Sarah. But I’m coming with you. No arguments.”

I shivered, his breath warm against my skin, his words leaving no room for negotiation. “Why do you have to make everything so complicated?” I muttered, staying put as his faint touch brought me desperate for any slight touch he gave.

I was too hungry for him. I didn’t know whether to fight it or consume myself in this heat like Sam encouraged.

“Because you make everything worth fighting for,” he replied, his tone softer now, almost tender.

I hated how his words made my heart ache, how they chipped away at the walls I’d tried so hard to build around myself. I hated how much I wanted him to mean them.

“Fine,” I said, my voice steadier than I felt. “You can come. But don’t think this changes anything.”

He smirked, the corners of his mouth curving into that infuriatingly smug expression that always made my stomach twist. “We’ll see about that.”

Before I could respond, he loosened his grip on my waist, letting me slide off his lap. I stood up quickly, needing the distance to collect myself, but the heat of his touch lingered on my skin.

“Pack your things,” he said, leaning back in his chair, his gaze never leaving me. “We leave tomorrow.”

I nodded stiffly, turning to leave, but paused as A question popped into my head.

“Christopher?”

"Yes, love." Don’t call me that. I'm not your love.

"How could you tell I was here in the first place?" I asked,glancing over my shoulder.

His green eyes locked on mine as he reply, "How could I not?"