Chapter 122
Emily Windsor's POV
The porridge was warm, carrying the subtle fragrance of rice grains. Luke fed it to me spoonful by spoonful, soothing not just my empty stomach but my hollowed-out heart.
I greedily savored this hard-won peace. Only when the bowl was empty did I finally find my voice again.
"How did you..." I looked at him, too many questions clogging my throat. "That boat..."
Luke set down the bowl and dabbed the corner of my mouth with a napkin, the gesture as natural as if we'd never been apart.
"I jumped into the sea before the explosion." His account was calm and brief, as if he were describing something trivial that had nothing to do with him. "A passing fishing boat rescued me, but I was badly injured. I've been recovering since."
He omitted the peril, but I could imagine the struggle he'd endured in those icy waters.
He'd condensed all that heart-stopping danger into the simplest statement, just so I wouldn't worry.
His hand reached up to brush the bruise still fading at my temple, deep guilt and self-reproach churning in his eyes.
"I'm sorry, Emily." His fingertips were rough with calluses, yet they touched my skin as lightly as feathers. "I should have come back sooner. I shouldn't have left you to face all this alone."
All the grievances I'd suffered these past days found their outlet in this moment. My eyes began to sting again.
I shook my head, gripping his hand tightly. "It's not your fault. I'm just glad you're back."
I steadied myself and asked the question that had been circling in my mind: "What about Lawrence? What happened to him?"
The moment the words left my mouth, the temperature in the hospital room seemed to plummet several degrees.
The warmth on Luke's face vanished instantly, replaced by a layer of frost—cold and laced with venom.
He slowly withdrew his hand, those unfathomable black eyes locking onto mine, his voice devoid of emotion. "You care about him that much?"
I froze, only then realizing what was wrong with his tone.
This man—even now, he was jealous.
"That's not what I meant," I rushed to explain. "He kept me locked up for so long. I just want to know if he was caught, if he—"
"He locked you up. What did he do to you?" Luke cut me off sharply. He leaned in, bracing his hands on either side of my body, trapping me completely in his presence. Those eyes burned with twin flames I recognized—jealousy—tinged with an unreasonable obsession. "Did he touch you? Emily, did you develop feelings for him?"
His questions made me feel both angry and like laughing. More than anything, they made me ache.
I looked at that handsome face, slightly twisted with jealousy, and cupped it in my hands. Word by word, clearly, I said: "Luke, I hate him to my bones. I wish I could devour his flesh and drink his blood. The only person I've ever loved, from beginning to end, is you."
My confession worked like a sedative, the madness in his eyes receding slightly.
But the next second, he gripped the back of my head and kissed me without warning.
The kiss, like the man himself, was domineering, forceful, brooking no refusal.
He pried open my lips, conquering territory, as if he wanted to convey through this kiss all the anxiety, longing, and possessiveness he'd accumulated these past days.
He kissed me until I could barely breathe. I could only cling to his shoulders, forced to bear the storm of his passion.
A jarring knock at the door interrupted us, followed by the doctor's perfunctory voice: "Miss Windsor, time for rounds."
Only then did Luke reluctantly release me, the desire in his eyes not yet fully faded, though his lips pressed into a displeased line.
My face burned scarlet. I immediately buried my head in his chest like an ostrich, refusing to face anyone.
The doctor, unsurprised, noted a few readings, gave some instructions, and left. Only then did I dare peek out from his embrace, complaining softly, "This is all your fault."
Luke chuckled low in his chest, the vibration traveling through the thin fabric to my face.
He pinched my earlobe, his voice calm again. "Lawrence got away."
My heart sank.
"But don't worry." He patted my back reassuringly. "The Lowe family is crippled. I sent several key figures to prison. He's nothing now but a stray dog everyone wants beaten—he can't make waves anymore. I'll have people guarding you around the clock. No one can hurt you again."
Hearing this, my heart—which had been suspended in anxiety—finally settled back into place.
I stayed in the hospital for a full two weeks.
Rather than recovering, it felt more like Luke was forcibly keeping me under "house arrest."
He stayed by my side almost constantly—feeding me, wiping my face, sleeping beside me. Every detail, handled personally.
Lily visited a few times. Each time she was thoroughly disgusted by our clinginess, muttered silent complaints, then got frozen out by one of his icy glances.
Two weeks later, I was finally allowed to leave.
Luke didn't take me to some new safe house. Instead, he took me straight back to our old apartment in New York.
Everything remained as I'd left it, only cleaned spotless with no trace of having been ransacked.
Lily and a few bodyguards saw us to the door, tactfully choosing not to follow us inside.
The heavy door closed behind us, shutting out the entire outside world.
The living room was quiet—so quiet I could hear both our breathing and heartbeats.
Before I could even change my shoes, Luke wrapped his arms around me from behind. His chin rested in the crook of my neck, his warm breath against my skin sending fine shivers through me.
"Emily." He called my name in a low voice, hoarse beyond measure.
The next second, he swept me up into his arms and strode toward the bedroom.
I gasped, instinctively looping my arms around his neck.
He laid me on the soft bed, then pressed down over me. Scattered kisses rained down like droplets—from my forehead to the tip of my nose to my lips.
His kisses were no longer restrained like in the hospital. They carried the madness and urgency of something lost and found again, as if he wanted to reclaim in one night all the tenderness these days had stolen.
Clothing was stripped away roughly, scattered across the floor.
I was like a small boat adrift in a storm, clinging tightly to him, letting him pull me under.
He murmured my name over and over in my ear. Each impact felt like confirmation of my existence. Moonlight from the window spilled in gently, stretching our entwined shadows long across the wall.
That night, we confirmed again and again that we were both alive, both here beside each other.
I don't know how much time passed before I woke from utter exhaustion and bliss. Dawn was already breaking.
Luke was sleeping heavily, one arm still possessively draped across my waist.
I turned onto my side and, by the faint morning light, greedily traced the contours of his face.