Chapter 17 Chapter 17.

Chapter 17 Chapter 17.
(Lucian)

My phone buzzed in my pocket, slicing through the chatter of the dining room. I excused myself, stepping into the dimly lit hallway as I answered the call. “Fire up,” I said, my tone sharper than intended.

“Report on the shipment,” Andrew began, his voice steady but tinged with unease.

“The crew survived and are sailing back home on smaller boats,” he said. “But the ship… we lost it.”

There was a pause on the other end that felt like a lead weight. “We lost the ship,” Andrew concluded grimly.

My fist clenched at my side, and I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath. “And the Matolys?” I asked, bracing for the worst.

Andrew sighed heavily. “It's over, boss. They’re withdrawing business with us. The loss of the ship has hit us hard.”

Silence enveloped us for a moment as I processed the devastating news. The weight of the loss hung heavily around my shoulders, like a cloak I couldn't shake off.

“Take care of it, will you?” I finally managed to say.

“Yes, sir,” he replied, and I hung up, furious. Whoever did this to me, I hoped I wouldn’t find them.

As if answering my unspoken thoughts, my phone rang again, this time from an unknown number. I answered without hesitation.

“Lucian Davis, you motherfucker,” a dark voice echoed from the other end. "How dare you send such a lame message to me?"

"So nice of you to save me the stress by identifying yourself," I smirked. “Yeah, you got the message right,” I confirmed, my voice steady. “Don’t let me find you.”

“And what are you going to do about it, you son of a bitch?” he taunted, the challenge echoing in the silence.

I laughed, a dark, mirthless chuckle. “Did you just fall from the sky?”

“No… I came from the depths of hell,” he replied, his voice grim, but I found it amusing.

“Then you should know me, the Devil himself, the ruler of hell,” I said, my tone casual, fully aware of the weight behind my words.

"So, like I said before, friend, don’t let me find you," I added, annoyance seeping through. I hung up without waiting for a reply. Instead of returning to the dining room, I slipped away to my room, eager for some calm to cool my rattled nerves and escape any potential annoyance.



(Rebecca)

Dinner had come to an end, and while everyone else retreated to their rooms, I remained seated. An intense ache pulsed through my ankle, rendering me unable to move. Pain shot through me each time I tried to shift, leaving me waiting for a miracle that didn’t seem to arrive.

Minutes stretched on when I heard Lucian’s smooth voice behind me. "Why are you still here, and all alone?" He approached with a casual confidence that made me immediately tense.

“Nothing,” I murmured, trying to sound nonchalant. “I’ll come to the room soon.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. I forced a smile, adding, "I just need a little time to think things through, clear my head."

His piercing gaze held me steady for a moment. Finally, he nodded slowly and walked away. I let out a shaky breath, relief flooding me. The last thing I wanted was for him to discover how I had hurt myself; it could draw unwanted suspicion and lead to terrifying consequences.

After what felt like hours, I summoned every ounce of determination to push myself up, enduring the agonizing throb in my ankle. I turned to start my slow journey to the room, only to experience a rush of panic when I caught sight of Lucian. He hadn’t left after all. My heart raced, and in my startled state, I lost my balance, falling towards the floor. But he moved with a speed and grace I had never seen before, catching me effortlessly before I could hit the ground.

In that moment, my gaze locked onto his. Those emerald eyes, seemingly devoid of emotion, were nonetheless captivating. They held a quiet charm that got me hooked.

Straightening me up, he swept me into his arms, striding confidently toward the room while my gaze remained locked onto him. The moment the door clicked shut behind us, any spell he had cast on me shattered. I quickly leapt from his arms, desperate to break free from his hold. However, as soon as my feet touched the floor, I stumbled and ended up crashing onto the ground.

Fortunately, I had fallen close to the bed, so I pushed myself up and sat down, grateful for a moment's reprieve while he observed my struggle with an inscrutable expression.

He squatted down beside me, extending his hand toward my ankle, but instinctively, I withdrew my foot. “I’m okay,” I insisted, attempting to reassure him.

“I didn’t ask,” he replied broodly.

He reached for my ankle again, meticulously examining the swollen joint. “How did this happen?” he inquired.

“I’m alright,” I repeated, knowing I couldn’t reveal how my ankle had been twisted.

“That’s not what I asked,” he reiterated, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“How did this happen?” He pressed again, his persistence making it clear he wouldn't drop the subject easily.

I was trapped, and I scrambled to come up with something to say. “I fell off the stairs,” I finally blurted.

“What stairs?” he pressed, his gaze unwavering.

“What other stairs if not the grand staircase downstairs?” I shot back, my voice carrying a defensive note.

He scrutinized me, his piercing stare making my heart race. “Are you sure you’re telling me the truth?”

My pulse quickened at the accusation, but I forced myself to remain composed. “What would I gain by lying to you?” I shot back, my tone sharper than I intended.

“Shall I check the CCTV?” he threatened, and my eyes widened in panic. He was right. The CCTV footage could expose the truth. My mind raced. What should I do? Report the crime? But who would I even report it to? Sia? The police? And what if he got away with it? The chilling thought of him retaliating if he found me scared me more than anything.

"What do you mean by checking the CCTV? What would I gain from lying to you, huh? Are you my boyfriend?" I shot back, struggling to keep my voice steady as I tried to regain control of this baffling conversation. The confusion swirled in my mind, but then something clicked. "And wait a second," I continued, narrowing my eyes, "how are you going to check the CCTV when you’re just a contestant here?" My skepticism hung thick in the air like an unwelcome guest. Only crew members have access to the control room so...

He met my gaze momentarily but quickly averted his eyes, focusing instead on my ankle. "Where would you like to spend a vacation with this foot?" he asked, his tone surprisingly casual.

"What?!" I blurted out, caught completely off guard.

"You just need to reply," he stated simply, as if he were asking about the weather.

I eyed him suspiciously, still grappling with the bizarre shift in our conversation. "The Maldives," I responded hesitantly.

"When would you like to go there?" he pressed, his voice steady.

I paused, pondering my answer. "Probably after this game is over," I replied, my heart pounding in confusion.

"Why there?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious.

"Because I—" I started, but then the pain hit me like a bolt of lightning, sharp and overwhelming. I let out a piercing scream, the sound echoing off the walls.

"Fixed," he said matter-of-factly as I gasped for breath, tears stinging my eyes from the shock and pain radiating from my ankle.

"What?" My voice trembled, disbelief washing over me.

"It was a dislocation. I've just popped it back into place. After this initial pain, it will hurt less, and you’ll be able to use your leg normally again," he explained, his tone flat. "You need to be more careful with stairs."

I fell silent, stunned at how he had turned the situation around. He had used those awkward questions to distract me while he expertly fixed my foot.

"Thank you," I managed to whisper, genuine gratitude spilling forth, despite his bluntness.

"It's not a favor," he replied, an edge to his voice. "I don't want to lose this game because you’re incapacitated."

Right. What was I expecting anyway?

He straightened up and walked out of the room without a word.

I laid back in bed, breathing in relief on how well the situation was handled.

The door opened shortly and he walked back in with a glass of water. "Here," he handed me the glass of water and two pills.

I sat up, raising a brow at him.

"Don't worry, I won't kill you," he said. "I need you to win the game," and just like that he exited the room again.

I took the pills which I guessed was something to help with my foot. Dropping the glass on the bedside locker, I laid back in bed again, recounting the day. It really was a long day that I feared might never end, but at last it did.