Chapter 184 I do not like Tanya
Chapter 184 I do not like Tanya
Elara’s POV,
“You think this is weird, darling?” he murmured, his voice a low, velvet vibration that seemed to echo in my chest.
Before I can even blink, his hand shoots out. His fingers tangle ruthlessly into the hair at the nape of my neck, his fist tightening as he yanks my head back and I gasp, my back arching instinctively as he hauls me flush against his chest.
Then he crashes his lips onto mine—not just a kiss, but a claim. It’s hard, demanding, and tastes of possessiveness.
Click.
The camera flashes, capturing the exact moment of impact. The second the shutter closes, he doesn’t let go. He lingers for a heartbeat longer, his teeth grazing my lower lip before pecking me once and sliding away.
I’m left dazed and breathless.
Behind me, Jazmy quietly lowers the camera, and Lucien strolls over, plucks it from his hands, and scrolls through the photograph.
“...Perfect.”
Then he removes the memory card, slips it into his pocket, and casually reaches into Jazmy's wallet.
The poor man watches in horror.
“My money…”
“Do my fianceé a favour and shut up.” The man’s mouth snaps close as Lucien counts the bills. “You’re so damn lucky I’m in a good mood.”
He pockets half and hands the wallet back. Lucien pats his shoulder.
“Run along, Jaz.”
Jazmy doesn’t wait to be told twice. He’s gone in under three seconds, and I stare at Lucien, my eyes wide and glazed.
I’m flushed, but he doesn’t seem phased at all. In fact, he looked entirely too satisfied. He watched me for a second, his gaze sweeping over my flushed face and parted lips with a look of smug triumph.
Then, he walked over and leaned in to kiss me again. More like a soft, teasing peck that felt like a promise for later.
As he stepped past me to head toward the bench, he tapped my ass, and that did the trick. I jolt and glare at him.
“Come on,” he said, his voice returning to that smooth, effortless tone. “Let’s go home.”
~~
It's been three days since Lucien and I had our date, and they’ve been... wonderful.
Lucien has somehow become the world’s most devoted husband. He takes his ridiculous promise—“our forever is now”—far more seriously than I ever expected.
While I’m answering emails, he’s sprawled upside down across the couch, talking about some obscure historical battle as though I’m taking notes.
While I’m eating, he’s perched on the kitchen counter stealing fries from my plate and talking until I shove a chip into his mouth just to silence him for five blessed seconds.
While I’m brushing my hair, he’s sitting on the bed watching me through the mirror, talking about absolutely nothing.
At night, he still sneaks into my room.
Only...
It isn’t sneaking anymore.
One shirt became three. One drawer became half the wardrobe. His watch somehow lives on my vanity. His books have invaded my bedside table.
Without either of us mentioning it, my room has quietly become ours.
He brushes my hair because he says I always miss one knot. He washes my feet because the scar still aches sometimes. He kisses me until I forget why I was annoyed with him in the first place.
Every morning he brings me coffee after drinking half of it. Then dares to complain when I take just one sip of his whiskey.
Every night, after Asher falls asleep and the house grows quiet, he rests his head against my chest and whispers the same words.
“My love is forever.”
Every night I almost answer. Every night the words stop at the back of my throat.
There’s still time.
I always tell myself that.
~~
On the fourth day, Lucien disappears. Not just him. The mansion feels quieter, Celene is nowhere to be found, and Isolde’s room is empty.
Even the staff move through the corridors dressed entirely in black, speaking in hushed voices.
Then it hits me.
Today’s the anniversary of Reuben Kórvac’s death. They probably need each other today.
I quietly bow my head for a moment of silence.
Rest peacefully.
Then I go looking for my own family.
Asher is exactly where I expect him to be. Curled up on the couch and completely absorbed in his iPad.
“Hey, Ash.”
“Hey, Mum.”
His eyes never leave the screen. I sit on the ottoman nearby, watching him. Ten months ago, I couldn’t give him any of this. This house, safety and laughter.
Back then we had almost nothing. Yet somehow… we were happy. Now we have everything. So why does it feel like I’m about to lose it?
“Asher.”
“Yeah?”
He still doesn’t look up, and I fold my arms.
“Asher.”
“Hm?”
“Put the device down before I smack the colour out your eyes.”
The iPad lands on the couch immediately, and he folds his arms.
“You’re evil”
“I’ve heard worse.” He narrows his eyes at me, and despite myself, I smile; then it fades. “I need to ask you something.”
He groans, “No, I do not like Tanya. I already told Dad and Uncle Kallian.”
My brow raises past my hairline.
“What?!”
“What?”
We stare at each other until I nod slowly. “We’ll talk about that later, but this is important…”
“Okay.”
“When are you happiest?”
He thinks.
“When I’m winning my games.”
I sneer.
“No…”
“And when you’re leaving me alone to do just that,” he smirks, and I roll my eyes, stand, and kneel in front of him.
“I mean…” I take his hands into mine. “...what does home feel like?”
“Oh!” He answers so quickly it almost hurts. “When you and Daddy are with me.”
My fingers tighten around his tiny hands, but I smile anyway.
“What if…” I force myself to continue. “...something happened to one of us?”
His face falls instantly.
“Nothing’s happening…”
“I know.” I stroke his cheek. “But pretend I’m gone for a long time.”
“Like the hospital?”
“...Longer.”
He shakes his head stubbornly.
“You’ll come back.”
I swallow around the lump in my throat.
“Asher…” I wait until he’s looking straight into my eyes. “If…” The word almost refuses to leave my mouth. “If your Dad and I weren’t together anymore, what would you do?"
“I’d go with you.”
My heart drops, and I force another smile.
“And… your father?”
“Daddy would find us again.”
Of course he would.
I shake my head.
“No, sweetheart.” I hear my own voice cracking. “I mean…” God, I can’t believe I’m asking my son this. “If you had to choose.”
Please. Please, Asher. Say the right thing.
His little eyebrows pull together.
“I don’t have to choose.”
“Just pretend.”
“I don’t!”
“Asher.”
His eyes begin watering as confusion replaces certainty.
“I don’t want to.”
I cup his little face.
“Please, Asher. Listen to me…”
“I’ll make Daddy come too.”
“He can’t.”
Then, after thinking with all the seriousness only a child can manage...
“I’ll wait with him, then.” Everything inside me stops. “You can’t leave us.”