Chapter 19 A dangerous kind of love
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“Unbelievable! I can’t believe he’s actually going to marry that woman!”
Deborah’s voice was sharp enough to cut glass. She paced the length of the hotel suite, heels clicking against the marble floor, anger simmering beneath every step. The city stretched endlessly beyond the glass wall, foreign, glittering, uncaring.
“I smell something off about her,” she muttered, almost to herself. “And she had the nerve to ask me to be her maid of honor? Hell no! That's not gonna happen.”
Across the room, Luther leaned casually against the desk, a faint smirk playing on his lips as he watched her rant. “Still as bold as ever, I see...” he said, his voice low anf smooth, the kind that made people listen without realizing it.
Deborah shot him a look. “Don’t start.”
He raised an eyebrow. “I’m just saying. It’s been weeks since we seen each other, and you haven’t changed.”
Her arms crossed. “And that’s a bad thing?”
“Not at all,” he said, walking toward her. “It’s what I’ve missed most.”
That last line broke through her composure. She looked away, swallowing hard. “You shouldn’t say things like that, Luther. We promised to cut ties. Remember? I told night I don't have communication with you anymore.”
“I remember,” he murmured, stopping close enough for her to catch the faint scent of his cologne, warm, dangerous, and familiar. “But I never agreed to forget you.”
Deborah’s heart skipped. “Don’t.”
He tilted his head slightly. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t make this harder than it already is.”
“Then tell me you don’t still feel something,” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “Tell me you’ve moved on, and I’ll walk away.”
She opened her mouth, but no words came. Because she couldn’t lie.
Luther smiled faintly, a mix of pain and longing in his eyes. “That’s what I thought.”
He turned away, pretending to busy himself with some papers on the desk, but the tension between them only grew heavier, wrapping around the air like smoke.
Deborah took a deep breath. “Why are you even here, Luther?”
“For the same reason you are,” he said. “Business meeting with the board, we're on the same meeting later. But I didn’t expect you to be here in the suite.”
“Well, you’ve seen me now,” she said flatly. “So—”
“Deborah,” he interrupted softly, turning to face her again. “You can stop pretending you’re fine.”
Her defenses cracked just a little. She hated how easily he could read her, how effortlessly he saw through the layers she built to protect herself.
“You have no idea what it’s like,” she said quietly. “To stand there while everything I care about falls apart. How I pretens that I cut ties with you in front of my brothers. My family, my name, everything I built—”
“I do have idea what it's like." he said, closing the distance between them. “Because I lost you.”
Her breath caught. “Luther—”
He reached out, brushing his fingers against her cheek. “You think I don’t see it? The way your eyes still find me in a crowded room? The way your voice trembles when you say my name?”
She wanted to deny it. She really did. But the look in his eyes, that quiet, steady kind of love, made it impossible.
And then it happened.
He leaned forward, his forehead resting against hers. The world outside seemed to disappear, no meetings, no family expectations, no rules. Just them.
When he finally kissed her, it wasn’t rushed or reckless. It was slow, deliberate, a confession in itself. His lips were warm, his hand firm against the small of her back, pulling her closer until she could feel his heartbeat against her own.
Deborah melted into him. Every part of her screamed that this was wrong, but her heart didn’t care. Months of silence, longing, and unspoken words poured out in that one moment.
When they finally broke apart, her breath was uneven, her voice trembling. “We can’t keep doing this. We can't keep hiding.”
“Then don’t make it something we have to hide,” Luther said, his voice low but sure. “I’m done pretending you’re not mine. I'm done pretending to ignore you in the auction.”
Her eyes widened. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I want this,” he said, his hand still on her waist. “You. Us. No more secrets. No more stolen moments in empty rooms. I want it to be real.”
Deborah shook her head slightly, fighting the storm inside her. “You don’t know what you’re asking. My brothers will kill us both if—”
“Let them rage,” he cut in. “Let them hate me. But I’m not going to keep loving you in the shadows.”
Her heart pounded so fast it hurt. “You’d risk everything for me?”
He smiled, that soft, heartbreakingly sincere smile that always destroyed her walls. “For you, I already have.”
Silence fell. Her eyes glistened, and for a second, she saw everything she’d been denying, love, danger, freedom.
She whispered, “You’re impossible.”
“And you,” he said, brushing a kiss against her forehead, “are beautiful.”
Deborah stood frozen as he stepped back, straightening his tie, calm, composed, as if the world hadn’t just tilted.
But then he turned once more, his gaze holding hers like gravity. “Think about it, Deborah. I’m not asking you to choose right now. But when you do… choose us.”
And just like that, he left her standing there, lips still tingling, heart racing, the air around her charged with something she couldn’t name.
Luther cupped her face.... "Deborah, let's be official. It's okay for me if we keep hiding our relationship, pretending we don't know each other in the public, that we're a rivals.... if that's what you want and make you comfortable. But I can't stop my feelings for you. I want you, I really do, Deborah."