Chapter 13
Alistair's POV
Fresh out of the shower, hair still damp, I was toweling off when my phone started buzzing on the desk. Raman was sprawled on the bed, laptop balanced on his knees, clicking away like he didn't have work in the morning.
I grabbed the phone. Unknown number.
"Who is this?" I asked.
"The man of your dreams," came the voice on the other end—smooth, confident.
My stomach tightened. I knew that voice. I glanced at Raman—still glued to his screen.
"Mr. Evans," I said carefully.
"Good evening," Lumel replied.
"How did you get my number?"
"I'm your boss. I can get your number if I want."
From the bed, Raman shouted, "Are you done? I need to shower too!"
I stepped into the other room, shutting the door behind me.
"Who was that?" Lumel asked.
"No one," I said quickly.
Silence. A long, heavy kind of silence.
"Is there something you want?" I finally asked.
"Yes. I want you to prepare some documents for me."
"But I'm not your secretary," I cut in. "I'm the CEO's secretary."
"Yes. My father. Which means you technically work for me."
In the background, faint but unmistakable, I heard a woman's voice. Aurora. I'd know her tone anywhere. My grip on the phone tightened.
"Alright, sir. If that's all…" I said.
Then the line suddenly went dead.
My mood shifted instantly. Are they living together I thought,I tried to shove the thought aside—tried to remind myself I had no business thinking about them, especially when it came to some spoiled rich heir, like lumel Evans. Work. That's all that mattered.
The door banged open and Raman walked in. "Man, what took you so long—" He stopped mid-step, eyes narrowing. "What's that on your neck?"
I touched the spot automatically, remembering exactly what had happened in the office earlier.
"Must be a mosquito bite," I said, avoiding his eyes.
"Alistair Ryan Grant," he said in that mock-serious tone of his, "that is not from any insect." He reached out to poke at it.
I pushed his hand away. "It's… and I don't care if you believe me or not. The shower's open. Don't you have lesson notes to prepare for your students?"
Raman shook his head as I turned away. "You're keeping something, Ally. And that doesn't always end well," he called after me.
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Lumel's POV
The house was suffocating tonight. Too many people. Too many voices. My father's deep rumble drifting from the study, Fred Davies's laugh rolling in from the sitting room, and somewhere in the mix, Aurora's light tone floating above it all. Every sound scraped against me.
I pushed through the hallway and stepped onto the balcony. Finally—air. Cool, quiet, mine. I leaned against the railing, letting the night soak into me.
That's when Alistair came to mind. The way he carried himself—controlled, deliberate. Always keeping a wall up. I wondered what he looked like when that wall cracked.
I pulled out my phone and called down to the reception desk at Evans Industries. "Send me Alistair Grant's number," I said. No explanation. They didn't need one.
When the text came through, I hit call. Two rings.
"Who is this?" His voice was clear, even at this hour.
"The man of your dreams," I said, letting the words roll slow.
A pause. "Mr. Evans."
"Good evening."
"How did you get my number?"
I almost laughed. "I'm your boss. I can get your number if I want."
That's when I heard it—a man's voice in the background, casual, close. "Are you done? I need to shower as well."
The air shifted in my chest. "Who was that?"
"No one." Quick. Too quick.
I hate being lied to. I hate it more when I can hear the lie in the breath between the words. And the thought of another man in his space, at this hour? My grip on the railing tightened.
"I want you to prepare some documents for me," I said, my tone flat.
"I'm the CEO's secretary, not yours."
"Yes. My father. Which means you technically work for me."
A shadow crossed the balcony. Aurora. She came to stand beside me, lips moving. I couldn't catch the words with the phone still at my ear. I didn't ask her to repeat them.
Then my mother swept in. She didn't say a word to me—just plucked the phone right from my hand. "You've been on this too long," she said, ending the call with one sharp press.
I stared at her, jaw tight, then turned my gaze back out into the night. The air didn't feel cool anymore.