79

Lucien

I had never slept like that before.

Deep. Uninterrupted.

It was unsettling. Right after Ava died, I haven't been able to sleep for more than an hour.

I would have woken up to nightmares about how she was hit by a running vehicle, a man who had long ceased breathing. I'll have dreams of how the doctors tried to save her.

Those had haunted me for ever!

Waking up and seeing Moore beside me was a shock I hadn't prepared for. I wasn’t the kind of man who could fall asleep easily, let alone stay asleep for more than an hour. And yet, I had spent over seven hours in bed, undisturbed, with her beside me.

I sat up on the bed, my eyes on her peaceful face. Not only did I wrapped her up in my arms, I had my head snuggled right into her hair.

I ran a hand through my hair, my mind replaying the events of the previous night.

She had fallen asleep on my shoulder in the car, barely a few minutes after taking the painkillers. I had been taken aback when her head hit my shoulder so effortlessly, like she had forgotten who I was, forgotten that I was the man who loathed her too much to kill her.

I wouldn't have killed her anyways, but I would have made her crave so much for death that she would never find.

And the last time I checked, I haven't fully fulfilled that promise, rather, I had been strangely lenient with her.

So I carried her to my room, watching her like a hawk. She was unconscious, so I made sure the staff took care of her, but I still insisted on bathing her myself.

Something about having her this vulnerable in my space had made me want to be the one to make sure everything was okay. Even when she was out cold, I had changed her clothes, even her underwear, with the help of the domestic workers. I had kept my distance, but I didn't leave them to do it alone.

She didn’t wake fully, just opening her eyes in brief intervals, too disoriented to realize what was going on. I was surprised by myself. Not once had I felt disgusted by what I was doing. In fact, the more I helped her, the more I found myself drawn to her. That feeling startled me.

When I finally laid her down in the bed, pulling the covers over her, I had planned to leave. I couldn’t let myself get too soft. But then her fingers caught mine. Soft, desperate, like she needed me to stay.

I had stared at her for a long while, her features relaxed in sleep, though there was still that quiet turmoil in the way her brows furrowed. It reminded me of the way she had looked two weeks ago when I was taking her up to her room, so defiant, attempting to struggle and also get away from something. But now, she was peaceful—almost too peaceful.

A strange pull twisted inside of me, something deep, something almost primal. I felt the urge to protect her, something I never thought I would experience for someone like her.

I had sworn no protection on her, infact of she needed protection, that should be from me. She should be protecting herself from me.

But Moore looked like she was at peace with the man she shouldn't have closed her eyes beside.

My hand hovered close to her face. I wanted to caress her cheek, feel the softness of her skin under my fingertips, but I stopped myself.

I had pulled my hand away, standing up and walking to the bathroom to clear my head. I couldn’t be soft. I couldn’t let this feeling grow. But it was already there, gnawing at me.

I grabbed a towel, drying my hair as I stepped into the closet to change. But as I walked back out, my gaze automatically landed on the bed and on Moore.

She was shifting, her face contorted in pain.

I clenched my jaw.

Even now, when I was supposed to be focusing on something else, my instincts told me to watch over her.

She tried to conceal the pain coming from her stomach, but I can see it was a futile effort.

"Foolish girl," I muttered under my breath, remembering how recklessly she had gulped down alcohol before facing Grey.

Her sternness was infuriating.

Yet, it made me smile.

Sighing, I sat beside her, adjusting the pillow behind her head. But then, she reached for my hand, guiding it to her stomach.

“Stay,” she had murmured in her sleep, her voice fragile, like she was afraid I would disappear.

I stare at her, the fire and anger in my chest dulled. Just like that night two weeks ago.

Her face had been peaceful yet troubled at the same time. She looked... perfect.

My brows had furrowed in confusion until I felt her body slowly relax under my touch.

Soothing warmth. That’s what she had been seeking.

I had started caressing her stomach absentmindedly, and as her pained expression faded into tranquility, so had my resolve.

And before I knew it, I had laid down next to her, until now when I woke up glaring at the time to see I had slept for seven hours. It was freaking 9 in the morning.

I sat up abruptly, running a hand through my hair. I hadn't slept this deeply in years. And to make matters worse, I had done it beside her.

I slipped out of bed quietly, careful not to wake her, and walked out of the room. The second I stepped into the hallway, I called for the domestic workers.

“No one is to tell her anything,” I instructed, my voice firm. “She doesn’t need to know that I—” My lips pressed against each other, dreading the words. “That I spent the night in my room with her. Or that I did anything for her. Understood?”

They all nodded. “Yes, sir.”

I pointed towards the brunette, “That room, if she asked, call it hers.”

She raised her brow, then nodded. “Yes sir.”

With that handled, I went to the other room, took a quick shower and went downstairs, grabbing my phone as it rang. Greg was on the other end, his tone buzzing with excitement.

“Boss, the numbers are insane,” he said immediately. “The app’s purchase rate skyrocketed within hours of launch. We’re talking millions in revenue overnight.”

I leaned against the window, watching the sun rise over the estate. “Projected figures?”

“We’re exceeding expectations. Investors are already calling, and our stocks are reflecting the success.”

Good. Everything was moving exactly as planned.

Greg hesitated before adding, “Though, I gotta say, for a guy who works like a machine, you’re up pretty late today. Don’t tell me you actually slept in?”

I narrowed my eyes. “Greg.”

He chuckled. “So, you’re just waking up, huh? Don’t tell me—”

“Shut up.” I groaned ending the call.