(Evelyn's POV)
The car hummed along the darkened streets, tires whispering over the asphalt as the city's pulse faded behind the tinted windows. I leaned back in the leather seat, still wrapped in Adrian Vale's black shirt. It hung loose over my body, soft and familiar, and the scent—wood, faint spice, a hint of something uniquely him—still clung to it. My fingers traced the hem nervously, tugging and twisting the fabric to keep myself grounded.
My mind, however, was anything but calm.
The kiss. The heat of his hand at my hip. The smirk when I left. It all played in my head on a loop, a cruel game I couldn't stop. Every detail, every brush of his gaze, burned into memory. I had no right to think of him like that… and yet I couldn't help myself.
Martin, our driver, cast a brief glance in the rearview mirror. His eyebrows lifted slightly, just enough to acknowledge he had noticed my flustered state. I forced myself to look away, toward the blur of streetlights streaking past the window, but even the passing city couldn't push the memory out.
"Miss Rothwell, we're approaching the estate," Martin said in his usual calm tone.
I straightened with a small nod. "Thank you."
The Rothwell estate emerged from the darkness like a quiet sentinel. Warm golden light spilled from the tall windows into the frost-touched gardens. My pulse quickened, partly from the lingering memory of Adrian Vale, partly from knowing Clara would notice something.
I had hoped to slip in unnoticed, but the moment the front door opened, I knew that hope was futile.
Clara appeared, her auburn hair cascading loosely over her shoulders, her silk robe tied neatly at the waist. Her eyes widened slightly when they landed on me, scanning me head to toe.
"You're late," she said softly, but her tone carried something more—curiosity… and maybe a hint of jealousy. "And… you're wearing… his shirt?"
I pressed my fingers against the cotton to steady myself. "I borrowed it. Nothing more."
Her lips pressed into a thin line, and I saw the subtle flicker in her eyes. She admired Adrian Vale, I knew. She had told me once—never directly—but she had confessed in small, unguarded ways that she found him captivating, handsome, impossible to ignore. And now… she was standing in front of me, clearly struggling with a mix of curiosity and jealousy.
"From… Adrian Vale?" she asked, soft, almost hesitant.
I nodded lightly, trying to appear casual. "Yes."
Her gaze sharpened, and she took a slow step toward me. "You were at his place?"
I froze, gripping the hem of the shirt. I couldn't let her know the truth—that Adrian Vale was actually Damien Kane. "Yes… but it wasn't what it looks like."
She tilted her head, her expression a mixture of suspicion and a grudging admiration. "It doesn't look like anything," she said. "But… you've been acting different around him lately. I can see it. And I—" She stopped herself, glancing away for a heartbeat, then back at me. "I like him too, Eve. A little. I just… I don't want to see you get involved with him if he's… dangerous."
Her words landed like a soft blow. She liked him. And now she was worried about me. My chest tightened. "Clara, nothing dangerous happened," I said quickly, trying to reassure her… and myself.
"Then why are you flustered?" Her eyes bore into mine, sharp and unyielding, but there was an undeniable flicker of jealousy there, subtle yet tangible.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, trying to steady the flutter in my chest. "Because… it's complicated," I said finally. "Some things… can't be explained."
Her brows furrowed slightly, frustration and jealousy mingling in her expression. "Complicated how?"
I shook my head. "I'm tired. That's all. Can we not do this tonight?"
She studied me for a long moment, her gaze piercing. "You're lying," she said softly.
I felt a pang of guilt and fear. How could I explain? That Adrian Vale was Damien Kane, that he had kissed me, that he had stolen pieces of my composure I didn't know I could give away? I couldn't. I just couldn't.
"I'm not lying," I said, my voice trembling slightly despite my effort to appear calm.
"You're hiding something," she insisted. "I know it. And it's about him. You're… flustered. You're thinking about him. You've been acting differently, Eve."
Her tone softened slightly, but the faint edge of jealousy never disappeared. "I like him too, you know. I've admired him for months… and yet you're… closer to him than I've ever been. I just…" She let out a small, frustrated sigh. "I just don't want you to get hurt."
I swallowed hard. "Clara… I'm fine. Really."
She didn't look convinced. "You're hiding something from me," she repeated. "I'll know if you're lying. About him. About everything."
I sank onto the edge of my bed, letting Adrian Vale's shirt fall loosely over my thighs. My messy bun had loosened, a few strands falling across my face. I pressed my hands to my face, trying to push away the memory of his lips against mine, the way his hand had rested lightly against my hip, the smirk on his face as I left.
And yet the memory wouldn't leave. It clung, insistent and unyielding, like smoke curling in every corner of my mind.
Clara stepped closer, sitting on the edge of the chair across from me. "I don't want to fight with you, Eve. I just… I want you to be careful. Don't get swept away by him. He's… different."
"I know," I said softly. "I'll be careful."
She tilted her head, studying me for a moment longer. "I just… you're mine to protect, you know? Even if I don't like to admit it, even if I can't be the one he notices. Just promise me you'll be careful."
"I promise," I said, the word heavy on my lips. I could feel her eyes on me, aware of the lies, aware of my attraction, unaware of the truth that Adrian Vale was so much more dangerous than she could ever imagine.
Clara smiled faintly, a small, uneasy smile, then rose and walked toward her room. "Alright. But I'll be watching."
Alone, I sank back against the bed, closing my eyes. The night's events refused to leave me, leaving a heat in my cheeks and a storm in my chest. Adrian Vale's lips, the weight of his gaze, his smirk—they were all lodged inside me, impossible to expel.
I knew, without a doubt, that this was far from over.