Chapter 44: Touched by Fire

Chapter 44: Touched by Fire


The text had gone too far. Eve knew it the moment she hit send.
"I can’t stop thinking about you."
She had stared at the glowing screen, her heart hammering like it might break through her ribs. For a second, she thought of deleting it, but before her thumb could hover over unsend, she saw the notification—he had read it.
Lucas didn’t reply. He only tapped a heart reaction to her words. A meaningless digital gesture. A seal and a dismissal all at once.
Eve bit her lip and locked her phone quickly, as though hiding her own betrayal from herself. Heat crept up her neck, a storm of questions twisting in her chest. Did I cross the line? Was I too obvious? Does he think I’m desperate?
She buried her face into her pillow, but the echo of his silence kept her awake far longer than she wanted. And when sleep finally claimed her, it wasn’t Daniel’s face she dreamed of—it was Lucas’s unreadable eyes.
The next morning, Eve forced herself into elegance. A fitted navy suit, diamond studs, heels that clicked sharply against the company’s marble floors. She needed armor, because last night had left her skin far too raw.
She was walking with Daniel beside her, his hand occasionally brushing hers as he spoke about his overseas meetings. But Eve barely listened. Her attention sharpened when she spotted Lucas striding through the lobby.
Her pulse quickened as he approached. Every nerve braced for a sign, a secret acknowledgment, maybe even a smirk that told her last night meant something.
Instead—he looked straight past her.
“Daniel,” Lucas greeted smoothly, clasping his hand with firm ease. His voice carried no strain, no hesitation. It was as though Eve didn’t even exist.
He only gave her a fleeting, casual smile. Polite. Distant. Like she was just another piece of furniture in the company’s glass corridors. Then he walked away, his stride steady, his cologne lingering faintly as he disappeared down the hall.
Eve’s chest tightened. She turned her head, watching him leave, but he never looked back.
During the meeting, Eve tried to compose herself. Daniel was seated to her right, speaking about numbers and projections, but her gaze kept drifting across the long mahogany table.
Lucas sat opposite her, his expression cool, focused on the presentation. She tried to catch his eyes, a glance, even a flicker of recognition. But he never looked at her. Not once.
It was maddening. Every minute his silence pressed heavier on her chest, making her fumble in her notes, lose track of Daniel’s words. Lucas’s deliberate disregard was more suffocating than if he had openly exposed her.
By the time the meeting ended, her nerves were frayed thin.
The cafeteria offered little relief. She sat with Daniel, stirring her evening coffee absentmindedly, forcing laughter at his comments.
And then—Lucas entered.
But not alone.
A woman walked beside him. She was beautiful in a simple, effortless way—silky hair, a modest dress that still managed to hug curves perfectly. Lucas leaned slightly toward her, saying something that made her laugh. His smile was different—unguarded, warm.
Eve’s stomach clenched. Jealousy surged so fast it was nauseating. Her hand tightened around her cup until coffee sloshed dangerously near the rim.
“I… I just remembered something urgent,” she blurted to Daniel, already rising from her seat.
“Eve?” Daniel frowned. “What happened—”
But she didn’t hear him. Her heels clicked against the floor as she stormed out. On her way, she bumped into someone carrying a tray. It crashed to the floor, drinks spilling everywhere. The man cursed, but Eve didn’t stop, didn’t apologize. She was too consumed by the fire tearing through her chest.
In her private cabin upstairs, Eve slammed the door behind her. She tore off the coffee-stained blouse with trembling fingers, tossing it onto the couch. Standing in her black lace bra, she caught her reflection in the mirror—her flushed cheeks, her burning eyes.
Why him? Why Lucas of all people?
Her fingers brushed against her skin as she reached for a clean blouse from the wardrobe. But before she could slip it on, a knock rattled the door.
“I’m changing. Come back later,” she called sharply, still breathless with frustration.
But the door opened anyway. The click of the lock sliding shut sent a jolt down her spine.
She whirled around.
Lucas stood there.
The air seemed to thin in an instant. He didn’t speak, didn’t smirk, didn’t explain. His eyes flicked once over her bare shoulders, her chest rising and falling, before settling directly on her face.
Eve’s lips parted, but words died on her tongue.
Lucas stepped closer. Steady. Silent. A predator’s grace. Every step pulled the ground from under her.
“Lucas—” she began, her voice uncertain, but his presence stole the rest.
When he was close enough, his hand rose—not roughly, but with command. He cupped her jaw, tilting her face upward, and then his mouth was on hers.
The kiss was rough, dominant, almost punishing. Fire surged between them, scorching through her veins. She gasped against him, but instead of pulling away, her hands clutched at his shirt, dragging him closer.
Every ounce of control she thought she had shattered.
Her body melted into his as his mouth claimed hers, his tongue forcing its way past her lips, demanding, devouring. She moaned, a sound torn from somewhere deep, unguarded, desperate.
When he finally pulled back for breath, her chest heaved, her lips swollen.
“Lucas…” she whispered, but the word was more plea than protest.
“You don’t resist,” he murmured against her mouth, his voice low, dangerous, his hand still gripping her waist like she might vanish if he let go.
Her eyes flickered shut. “Don’t stop,” she whispered. “Please.”
A smile ghosted against her lips, dark and knowing. He kissed her again, harder, pressing her back until her shoulders brushed the wall. The world narrowed to the heat of his mouth, the strength of his hands, the fire that consumed every part of her.
When he finally tore his lips from hers, he leaned close to her ear. His breath was hot, sending shivers down her spine.
“You think you’re in control, don’t you?” he whispered.
Eve’s knees nearly buckled. Her heart raced so violently she thought it might give her away. Because for the first time since this game began, she realized—she wasn’t the one holding the strings.
Lucas was.
And she had just stepped willingly into his fire.
The flames had been lit, but Eve had no idea how much they were about to burn.