Chapter 6

~Sienna~

The moment Richard's eyebrow lifted, Lucas didn't miss a beat. With a smooth, tight smile, he picked up the glass of lemonade as if it were nothing but water.

"Oh, that?" he said, tossing in a chuckle that was all confidence and control, his glance sliding over to me with a look that burned. "I'm over it. Allergy treated last year. Doctor cleared me."

Richard's brow furrowed, doubt flickering briefly, but Lucas's unwavering stare left no room for question—or so he made it seem. He took a sip, set the glass back down, and met his father's gaze like it was just another day at the office.

I held my breath the entire time, dread pulsing through me. I had almost messed everything up. But Lucas had it handled, a flawless performance.

"Well," Richard finally said, nodding with reluctant approval, "good to see you're finally managing better, Lucas. Health, as we know, can be… fragile."

There was a slight pause before he straightened, almost like he'd changed gears. "Tomorrow's check-up then?" he said, more command than question.

Lucas's response was as calm as ever. "Just send the details," he replied, his fingers pressing around mine with enough force to remind me to stay focused. I kept my smile in place, trying to match his polished charm, though something twisted inside me from the coldness in his touch, the tension in his posture.

Dinner carried on, Lucas answering with that same smooth calm as his father spoke about markets, investments, the usual. But a creeping sense of dread lingered as I caught sight of small, red goosebumps traveling up his neck, like they were foretelling something dark that was about to unfold. But I kept my face steady, unbothered.

Finally, as the last dish was cleared, Derrick approached, his voice low. "Sir, we have a meeting in twenty."

Lucas's face stayed unreadable as he stood, reaching for my hand. "Let's not keep them waiting, see at the hospital tomorrow dad," he said easily, his hand resting at my lower back as we made our way to the door.

"Thank you for joining us, Selena," Richard said, with a nod that lingered just a bit too long. "I expect we'll see you again soon."

"Of course, Richard," I replied, holding onto that warmth in my voice, even as Lucas's grip on my hand tightened, almost steering me toward the exit.

As we walked in silence to the car, I felt tension coiling in his hand, like he was holding himself together by sheer force. By the time we reached the car, his jaw was locked tight, but he simply nodded to Derrick, slipping into the back seat, his control never wavering.

The second the car doors shut, his face changed, the cold hardness cutting through every word as he turned to me.

"Are you completely incapable of following instructions?" His voice was low, razor-sharp, each word cutting through the air between us. "I gave you every detail, and somehow you still managed to mess it up."

I swallowed, willing my voice to stay calm. "I thought it would look more natural…"

He scoffed, coldly, bitterly. "This isn't some casual date, Sienna. My father's sharp, and I thought I made that clear."

My heart sank, shame twisting in my chest like an anchor. "I didn't mean for things to go wrong, Lucas."

"Your intentions don't matter," he snapped, his voice like ice. "What matters is that you couldn't even follow simple instructions."

"Well, if you'd added that to your notes, I wouldn't have made the mistake," I said, my voice breaking slightly as I fought to hold it together. His harshness was wearing me down, he was completely different from the Lucas at bar, now cold and cocky.

His face softened, but only for a flicker of a moment, before he steeled himself again, expression hardening as he said, "I didn't expect him to test us like that. No one's served me lemonade in years. But if you'd just kept quiet, I wouldn't be suffering now."

His voice grew rougher, his breathing becoming strained, and his hand moved to his collar, loosening his tie in stiff, jerky motions like it was suffocating him. A faint sheen of sweat beaded on his forehead, and the redness creeping up his neck deepened.

"Lucas…" I hesitated, a prickle of worry crawling through me. "Are you alright?"

He shot me a glare that could slice through glass. "I'm fine. Don't flatter yourself."

Derrick's gaze flicked to the rearview mirror, his face tense with worry. "Sir, the reaction is starting."

My stomach dropped. "Reaction?"

Derrick's voice was low and steady, keeping his eyes on the road. "President Jones never received treatment for his allergy. He only said he did to avoid suspicion. The meeting was an excuse so we could leave before… this." He nodded toward Lucas, whose breathing was growing more labored, the redness spreading along his neck, his hands shaking ever so slightly.

My heart pounded. "What? How could you do that, Lucas? You risked your health!" Guilt slammed into me, heavy and suffocating, pressing down on my shoulders. This was my fault—my careless mistake.

Lucas's jaw clenched, his body shivering slightly as I helped steady him.

"Don't start mothering me. You're just twenty-three—don't act like my mom," he scoffed, his gaze shifting over to Derrick. "Don't fuss, Derrick. Just drive." His voice was strained, but the edge was still there, like he wouldn't let anyone think he was weak.

The car raced through the streets, finally pulling up to Lucas's white painted villa—a striking blend of glass and stone softened by the lush greenery, his fleet of sleek cars lined up outside. Derrick opened the door, giving me a look of quiet urgency.

"Miss Wilde, you'll need to assist him inside."

I nodded, slipping out of the car and wrapping an arm around Lucas. He felt heavier than I'd expected, his body leaning into mine, his skin warmer than it should be. We stepped into the villa, unusually empty and quiet.

Together, Derrick and I guided him past the grand staircase leading up from the wide living room, struggling slightly as Lucas's steps grew heavier.

Inside, Lucas's bedroom was as luxurious as the rest of the villa— a huge bed with a plush, velvet headboard and soft blankets layered across it. Overhead, a crystal chandelier cast a warm, dim glow. Nightstands framed the bed, each one detailed with gold, thick curtains draped over the large windows.

Derrick helped ease him down onto the bed, then quietly excused himself, leaving us alone.

I took a steadying breath, nerves fluttering through me. I couldn't believe I was sitting here, on my boss's bed, about to take care of him like this.

Derrick returned briefly, placing a few items on the nightstand before glancing at Lucas, worry etched deep in his face. Lucas dismissed him with a nod, leaving us alone in the quiet.

My heart raced as I reached for the small tin of cream on the nightstand, catching Lucas's gaze for a charged second. A flutter of butterflies stirred in my stomach.

"You don't have to… fuss," he muttered, clinging to his pride even now.

Ignoring him, I moved closer, unbuttoning his shirt to get to the rash that had spread over his chest and collar. His skin was flushed, red blotches standing out against his normally perfect complexion. My fingers brushed his chest, and his muscles tensed, his gaze heavy and dark as he watched me.

"Enjoying yourself?" he rasped, his voice hoarse, but the arrogant smirk still lingered, like he thought he had the upper hand.

My cheeks warmed, but I focused on the task, smoothing a dab of cream onto my fingers and gently patting it onto his skin.

"There's nothing enjoyable about this," I muttered, though my pulse was racing, my heartbeat wild and erratic.

"Liar!"He sneered but I ignored him, trying to stay focused.

As I spread the cream across his chest, I felt the warmth of his skin, the steady rise and fall of his breath, and I couldn't ignore the electric thrill of each touch. Memories of last night flashed in my mind, the way his body felt against mine. The heat rushed through me, my fingers trembling slightly as I tried to focus.

His gaze stayed on mine, intense, unreadable. I wondered if he felt it too—the tension that filled the air between us. I brushed the cream along his collarbone, feeling his pulse beneath my fingers, strong and steady despite the reaction that had him at my mercy.

Slowly, his breathing evened out, his eyes fluttering shut as the tension left his body. I stayed there, watching as his face softened in sleep, and before I knew it, my head had come to rest on his shoulder. The warmth of his chest beneath my cheek, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it was so easy to give in, my own breaths slowing as sleep pulled me under.