Chapter 24 CHAPTER 24: Afterburn
Auren’s POV
I woke late—violently late—ripped from sleep not by light or sound but by the merciless pounding inside my skull. It was the kind of headache that felt engineered, deliberate, as though someone had carved a drum into my head and set it beating without mercy. I lay still beneath the heavy Egyptian-cotton sheets, their cool silkiness twisted around my legs, while the ceiling above me blurred in and out of focus. My bedroom—no, my suite—stretched vast and cathedral-like, with hand-painted fresco panels and a chandelier imported from Venice suspended like frozen starlight. Sunlight filtered through towering arched windows dressed in layered ivory drapes, casting a warm, aristocratic glow across the polished marble floors. Even in pain, luxury surrounded me like a second skin.
A low groan left my throat as I dragged a hand across my face. The faint scent of last night’s whiskey and cigar smoke lingered in the air, woven into the darker notes of my cologne that still clung to the pillows. My phone vibrated sharply on the nightstand—once, twice, then relentlessly. I ignored it at first, burying my face deeper into the cushions. It kept ringing. Irritated, I snatched it up, squinting at the screen through narrowed eyes.
It ws Duglus. Of course. Only he would dare disturb me at this hour.
I answered, voice hoarse.
“What?”
A smug chuckle greeted me instantly. “Good morning to you too, Your Highness. You sound like you died and came back disappointed.”
I exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Say what you called to say, Duglus, before I hang up.”
“Oh relax. I’m doing you a favor. You need coffee. Strong coffee. And real food—not whatever poison you drank last night. Meet me at La Crème Morning Lounge.”
“I just woke up.”
“Yes, I gathered that from your funeral-voice. Get dressed. Thirty minutes.”
“You’re ordering me now?”
“Someone has to. Besides…” His tone sharpened with teasing curiosity. “…I want details about last night. You disappeared. .”
My silence made him laugh softly before he hung up first—satisfied he’d won.
I dropped the phone back onto the nightstand and stared up at the frescoed ceiling again. The mansion was silent at this hour, the staff moving like ghosts somewhere beyond the double doors. This estate had been in my family for generations—sprawling gardens, stone fountains, private galleries, and corridors lined with oil portraits that watched you as you passed. Normally the grandeur grounded me. Today it pressed in, too bright for my aching head.
I pushed myself out of bed, bare feet meeting the cold marble. The chill shot up my spine, forcing wakefulness into my bones. As I walked toward the balcony doors, the grounds unfolded below—perfectly trimmed hedges, a reflecting pool glimmering like liquid glass, white statues standing sentinel among rose gardens. Morning sunlight gilded everything in gold. I should’ve felt powerful standing there.
Instead—
A flash.
Her face.
Sharp. Furious. Beautiful in a way that felt dangerous.
Before I could stop it, the memory struck again—the sound of skin against skin. The sting of her slap. My jaw tightened unconsciously as if feeling it anew. I could still see the fire in her eyes… I still feel the shock of it. No one touched me like that. No one dared.
And yet she had.
I didn’t know her name. Didn’t know who she was. Only that for one suspended second, the entire world had narrowed to her fury and the imprint she left behind.
I exhaled sharply and annoyed myself by lingering on it.
I pushed the sheets aside and swung my feet onto the cold marble floor. The chill shot up my spine, forcing me fully awake. My suite stretched around me in quiet opulence—Italian marble, gold inlay, sculptural furniture that looked more like art than utility.
I made my way to the bathroom, the automatic lights warming to a soft golden glow as I entered. The space was less a bathroom and more a private spa—black stone counters, a sunken tub carved from a single slab of quartz, rainfall shower encased in smoked glass. I gripped the edge of the sink, studying my reflection. My hair was disheveled, falling rebelliously over my forehead, and faint shadows darkened the skin beneath my eyes. I looked… human. I hated it.
The shower helped. Hot water cascaded over me in heavy streams, steam curling through the air like silk ribbons. I stood there longer than necessary, letting the heat loosen the tension in my muscles and dull the ache in my head. The scent of oud and bergamot from my body wash filled the space, grounding me, restoring the carefully constructed armor I wore to face the world. By the time I stepped out, wrapping a monogrammed towel around my waist, the man in the mirror looked like himself again—controlled, untouchable.
My walk-in wardrobe awaited—rows of tailored suits arranged by shade, watches displayed beneath glass, shoes lined with military precision. I selected charcoal trousers, a crisp ivory shirt, and a tailored camel overcoat—effortless luxury, understated but unmistakable. A platinum watch clasped around my wrist, cufflinks catching the light with quiet arrogance. I finished with a light spray of cologne, the scent settling into my skin like a signature.
By the time I stepped toward the elevator, sunglasses in hand and car keys glinting between my fingers, the headache had dulled into a manageable echo. Duglus was waiting at La Crème, no doubt already halfway through his espresso and whatever gossip he’d dragged me there to hear. I exhaled once, steadying myself as the elevator doors slid open. As I entered, my phone buzzed again.
Duglus.
I answered this time before it could ring twice.
“Don’t tell me you went back to sleep,” he said immediately.
“I’m on my way.”
“Miracles exist. Should I order your usual or are you feeling adventurous after last night?”
“Order coffee. Black. And whatever you’re eating.”
He laughed. “Headache that bad?”
“You have no idea.”
A pause—then his voice lowered, curious again. “So you really won’t tell me where you vanished to? I turned around and you were gone. You looked… distracted.”
I spoke evenly. “It was nothing.”
“Nothing?” he repeated, amused. “You? Leaving a party early for nothing? I don’t buy it.”
I smirked faintly despite myself. “Believe what you want. I’ll be there in ten.”
He hummed. “Good. Because whatever happened, you look like a man who got humbled. I want to see it with my own eyes.”
The call ended, but his words lingered.
Humbled.