Chapter 71

Margaux’s stomach twisted again, the alcohol surging back to revolt against her. She had barely managed to sit back against the couch before it was happening—her body reacting violently, her hand shooting to her mouth in a futile attempt to stop it. The contents of her stomach spilled out once more, and despite the sickening feeling, she barely registered William’s quick movement to her side.

“Hey, hey,” he said, his voice urgent and calm all at once, as he helped her sit up. “Come on, let’s get you inside.”

With his arm around her, he helped her stand, guiding her carefully through the door to her apartment. Her legs wobbled slightly, and she leaned heavily against him, still feeling the disorienting effects of the alcohol. As they entered her living room, William’s movements became even more precise, his focus entirely on getting her settled.

He lowered her gently onto the couch. “Sit here,” he said softly, pushing the pillows into place. He immediately moved to grab a glass of water, handing it to her with a level of care that was almost surprising given his usual detached demeanor.

Margaux, still reeling, took the glass from him with shaky hands. She brought it to her lips and took a slow sip, the cold water a welcome relief for her parched throat. But it wasn’t long before her stomach betrayed her again. She barely had time to pull away before the water came back up, spilling from her mouth and staining the floor.

“Shit.” William cursed under his breath, but his tone was calm as he crouched beside her. “It’s okay. We’ll take care of this.”

Margaux, flushed and embarrassed, wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, her eyes downcast. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to—”

“Margaux,” William interrupted, his voice low, but full of concern. He gently cupped her face, tilting her head up so their gazes met. “You don’t have to apologize. It’s just a bit of a rough night. We’ll handle it.”

He didn’t wait for her response before guiding her toward the bathroom, his touch firm but gentle. “Get in the shower. I’ll wait outside.”

Margaux nodded weakly, stepping into the warm water, the steam enveloping her and soothing her senses, though her body still felt heavy and dizzy. After a few minutes, she stepped out of the shower, feeling slightly better but still not quite herself. William, ever the presence of calm, handed her a pair of soft pajamas and turned his back to give her privacy as she changed.

When she returned to the living room, William had already put on a movie. The soft glow of the TV was the only light in the otherwise dark room, and she took a seat on the couch, keeping a small distance between them. She wasn’t sure how to act—her body still felt like it was recovering, and her mind was swirling with the remnants of the evening.

But William, ever perceptive, didn’t let the space last. He patted the spot beside him. “Come here,” he said, his voice soft, coaxing.

Margaux hesitated only for a moment before she shifted, closing the gap between them. As she settled in, her head slowly drifted toward his shoulder. It was natural, a simple thing, but it felt like she was allowing herself to sink into the security he was offering. The movie played on in the background, but neither of them seemed to be paying attention to it.

After a few moments, William’s hand moved beneath the blanket that draped across them, his fingers brushing against her legs. He carefully shifted them, lifting them onto his lap, his touch light and careful as he made her more comfortable. Margaux didn’t protest, allowing him to move her into a position where she could rest without strain.

They sat in silence for a while, the tension between them thick but not unpleasant. Margaux’s heart raced as she felt the weight of his presence, his warmth seeping through the fabric of their clothes. She wasn’t sure when it happened, but her breath caught in her throat as her gaze flicked from the screen to William’s face, his expression unreadable but soft, his eyes focused on her for just a moment longer than necessary.

And then, without warning, he moved. It was sudden, but somehow not surprising. He turned toward her, his eyes locking with hers as his hand found her cheek, tilting her face up toward him.

Margaux’s breath caught, and before she could think to pull away, his lips were on hers. The kiss was slow at first—gentle, almost tentative—like he was testing the waters, feeling out the distance between them, waiting for her response. She didn’t pull back. Instead, she met him halfway, her lips soft against his, her body growing aware of every subtle shift in the way he kissed her.

It deepened slowly, the pressure of his mouth firming as he pulled her closer. William’s hand moved to her back, his fingers curling around her as he deepened the kiss, and Margaux’s heart pounded in her chest, each thud making her feel more alive, more present than she had in a long time. His lips were warm and insistent, coaxing her to respond, and she did, her own hands sliding to his chest, feeling the solid warmth of him beneath her palms.

His mouth moved against hers with a quiet urgency, a depth of emotion that went beyond the physical act. It was as if he was trying to say something that words couldn’t capture, and with each slow, deliberate kiss, Margaux felt herself falling deeper into the warmth of it.

When they finally broke apart, the space between them felt charged, the silence that followed laden with the unspoken understanding that had settled between them. Margaux’s lips tingled from the kiss, and her chest rose and fell with every breath she took. She couldn’t quite meet his gaze at first, but when she did, there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something she couldn’t quite place, but it made her heart skip a beat.