Chapter 77
Emily Windsor's POV
I knew this man too well. Once I gave him an opening, I'd lose all ability to think straight for the rest of the night.
I was terrified of being completely devoured by him—of losing my own rhythm entirely.
"Emily." He was relentless, closing in again from behind and wrapping his arms around me. He rested his chin on my shoulder like a stubborn child. "Just tonight."
His warm breath tickled my ear, and I felt my defenses crumbling inch by inch.
Unable to withstand his pestering any longer, I finally relented—but I carved out one last boundary for myself.
"After the gala." I turned my head, dodging his approaching lips. "If everything goes smoothly, I'll agree. The night the gala ends."
He went silent for a few seconds, as if weighing the terms of this deal. Finally, he pressed a scorching kiss to my ear, his voice laced with satisfied amusement. "It's a promise."
Three days flew by in the blink of an eye.
On the night of the gala, I wore that midnight-blue velvet gown and took Luke's arm as we stepped onto the brightly lit luxury yacht.
The moment we appeared, we became the center of attention.
Countless eyes, some admiring, some envious, some calculating, descended on us like invisible spotlights.
Luke was already used to this. He remained composed, his powerful presence enough to dominate the entire room.
As for me, although I'd attended my share of high-profile events, this was the first time I'd stood beside him in this capacity, subjected to the scrutiny of New York's entire elite society.
Those men in tailored suits—who just days ago might have been tearing the Victor family apart online—now wore the most obsequious, enthusiastic smiles, clutching their wine glasses as they rushed forward to greet us.
They feared Luke. They feared the Victor family—this beast that had just undergone a bloody purge and was now baring its fangs. And yet they desperately wanted a piece of whatever he had to offer.
This kind of hypocritical socializing made me physically ill.
I could feel my smile growing stiff, my fingers tightening slightly where they rested on his arm.
Luke noticed immediately. He turned his head, his lips so close to my ear they almost touched, his low voice carrying a hint of amusement as it slipped into my ear.
"Not used to it?"
The warmth of his breath sent a tingling sensation through my ear. I instinctively tried to pull away, but he only held me tighter.
"Go to the lounge and wait for me." He nipped at my ear, his voice a command meant only for us. "I'll handle this."
I practically fled.
That command in Luke's voice—so scorching—was like a spark that traveled from my ear straight to my heart.
I didn't dare look back at him. I was afraid that if I met those unfathomable eyes of his, the fragile defenses I'd built would shatter instantly.
The lounge was quiet. Thick carpet absorbed all sound, leaving only luxurious silence. I kicked off those torturous heels and sank barefoot into the plush sofa, finally allowing my taut nerves to relax just a little.
My ankles bore red marks from the straps, tender and sore.
I lifted one foot and gently massaged it, replaying in my mind the hypocritical faces from the ballroom and Luke's subtle protectiveness.
My chest felt full—tight and aching in a way I couldn't quite name.
Just then, there was a soft knock at the lounge door.
"Miss Windsor, I've brought you some tea." A young woman in a server's uniform wheeled in a cart, her eyes downcast as she placed a steaming cup of red tea on the table in front of me.
I thanked her, my gaze casually sweeping over her—until, in the next second, I frowned slightly.
There was something familiar about this server's build.
She seemed to sense my scrutiny. Her hand trembled almost imperceptibly as she set down the cup, and she lowered her head even further.
I couldn't see her face—only her tense jawline and her pale lips.
"Have we… met somewhere before?" I asked, my tone casual, though my eyes never left her.
The girl's body went rigid. She immediately shook her head, her voice barely a whisper. "You must be mistaken."
With that, as if terrified I might ask more questions, she abandoned the cart and hurried toward the door, her retreat almost panicked.
Strange.
I picked up the teacup but didn't drink. I simply stared at the door that had just closed, alarm bells ringing in my mind.
This gala might look calm on the surface, but beneath it, currents were swirling.
The Lowe family wouldn't just stand by while Luke used this event to turn the tide of public opinion. They would make a move.
Could this suspicious server be one of their pawns?
The more I thought about it, the more uneasy I became. Luke was out there alone, dealing with a pack of wolves. At a critical moment like this, I couldn't afford to become his weakness—and I certainly couldn't allow myself to be left vulnerable to unknown danger.
I made a split-second decision. I slipped my heels back on, stood up, and resolved to return to Luke's side immediately.
But the moment my hand touched the doorknob, before I could even turn it, I heard the lock click from the outside.
My heart lurched. I stumbled backward, every hair on my body standing on end.
On the far side of the lounge, a hidden door leading to the deck slid open silently, and a shadow stepped inside.
I staggered back again, my spine hitting the cold wall, my heart nearly leaping out of my throat.
It wasn't until the figure stepped fully into the light that I saw his face—and my terror transformed instantly into shock and revulsion.
"Jacob?"
I could barely believe my eyes.
How was he here? This yacht had tight security. Only New York's elite had been allowed on board. How had he slipped in?
He looked more haggard than the last time I'd seen him. The dark circles under his eyes and his cheap suit both testified to how far he'd fallen.
He looked at me, his expression complicated—greed, jealousy, and a kind of obsessive devotion that made my skin crawl.
"Emily," he rasped, moving toward me. "I knew it. I knew you'd be here."
My stomach churned. Fighting back nausea, I demanded coldly, "Who sent you? The Lowe family?"
He stopped mid-step, panic flashing across his face—but it was quickly replaced by a twisted sort of sincerity.
He didn't answer my question. Instead, without warning, he dropped to his knees two steps away from me.
"Emily, please give me one more chance," he begged, looking up at me. His eyes—once reasonably handsome—were now filled with pathetic desperation. "I know I was wrong. I really do! What Julie said—it was all lies. I was the asshole. I was jealous that you were stronger than me, so I said those horrible things to hurt you!"