Chapter 4

My mind was still reeling when my eyes fell on the drawer at the bottom right of the desk—knocked open when he'd bolted upright moments ago.

On impulse, I reached out and pulled it open.

Buried deep beneath a thick stack of yellowed, aging law school lecture notes lay a plastic butterfly hairclip.

My breath caught. That faded clip—I knew it instantly.

It was the one I'd lost freshman year, the one I'd torn my dorm apart looking for. Vincent had picked it up and kept it all this time.

Suddenly I remembered: in my previous life, when he'd been alone collecting my body, there had been the vague outline of that same butterfly peeking from the pocket of his black suit.

I stood frozen for a moment, then quickly pushed the clip back deep beneath the lecture notes.

The rushing water in the bathroom stopped at precisely that moment.

When Vincent emerged, he'd changed into clean gray sweatpants and a plain black T-shirt.

After his shower, his damp black hair hung across his forehead, stripped of that suffocating coldness and authority he wore with his usual suits.

I couldn't quite put it into words, but right now, Vincent seemed less untouchable—there was an unexpected vulnerability to his appearance, almost sensual in its unguardedness.

I was about to call out to him when violent pounding suddenly erupted at the front door.

My expression froze instantly, ice flooding my veins. The voice shouting outside was unmistakably Julian's.

Vincent's expression darkened immediately, but his reflexes were far quicker than mine.

The apartment had an open floor plan—nowhere to hide.

As the beeping of Julian frantically entering the backup code echoed through the space, Vincent crossed the distance in one stride, his scorching palm clamping around my waist as he shoved me under the massive desk.

Before I could even gasp, he'd dropped back into the leather swivel chair, crossing his legs to block the space completely.

In the same instant, the door clicked open.

"Jesus, why's it so dark in here?" Julian stomped into the living room reeking of alcohol and perfume, stopping just a few steps from the desk.

Beneath the heavy solid wood desk, not a sliver of light penetrated. I pressed tightly against Vincent's legs, feeling the instant tension in his thigh muscles all too clearly.

"Breaking in this late, you'd better have a good explanation." Vincent's voice came from above, ice-cold and cutting.

"What else? That crazy bitch Amanda." Julian paced irritably, laughing with contempt.

"She actually had the nerve to throw her credit cards and keys into the fireplace in front of everyone. Now there's a rainstorm outside, she's got no money, and her phone's dead. She's definitely using this playing-hard-to-get bullshit to force me to give in."

His voice rose, dripping with nauseating certainty. "Just wait and see—by sunrise tomorrow, she'll be on her knees outside the door crying and begging me to forgive her. Women like her can never leave me. Not ever."

"Not necessarily." Vincent's two words came out cold.

Julian paused. "Not necessarily? Bro, you usually find her so annoying, don't tell me—"

At this suffocating proximity, Julian's patronizing drivel ignited something wild in me.

Before he could finish, I shifted forward slightly, opened my mouth, and bit down hard on the taut, sensitive muscle of Vincent's inner thigh—right through the thin cotton of his sweatpants.

"Ngh—"

A sharp, barely controlled guttural grunt forced its way from Vincent's throat.

In the darkness, a scalding hand shot down from above, brutally clamping onto my thigh with enough force to crush bone.

"What's wrong with you?" Julian stopped in his tracks, startled.

Vincent's chest heaved violently. I could feel him clenching his jaw with everything he had, forcing his tone back to freezing.

"Nothing. Just... grading papers in the same position too long. Leg cramp."

"Alright then. Won't disturb your rest. I'll just grab some water and go." Julian didn't suspect a thing, turning toward the bar area.

As he passed through the center of the living room, his footsteps suddenly halted.

The air solidified in that single second.

"Wait." Julian's voice carried exaggerated disbelief, followed by a lewdly playful whistle that pierced through the living room.

"What the hell is this wet spot on the couch? And there's a woman's soaked coat on the carpet... with a black lace bra rolled up inside it?"

Panic spiked through me in that instant. If Julian took just two more steps forward, he'd see me hidden beneath the desk.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Julian laughed with malicious delight. "You've kept this deep under wraps, bro. Which lucky lady finally conquered our ice-cold Professor Vincent?"

"Shut up." Vincent's voice was glacial.

Far from backing down, Julian stepped toward the desk.

"Why so defensive? You're sitting in the dark in the middle of the night—don't tell me you've got her hiding right around here?"

"Julian!" Vincent's low roar carried terrifying authority.

"Okay, okay, I won't come closer." Julian stopped immediately, but still examined the desk area with keen interest.

"But you've been a monk for thirty years—do you even have condoms here? Looking at this wild scene, you didn't skip protection, did you? I've got magnums in my pocket. Want me to toss one on the desk for you right now?"

In the darkness, Vincent's hand crushed my thigh with punishing force, a clear warning not to move.

Then he raised his eyes to Julian, speaking in an unexpectedly cold, detached tone: "Spare me the disgusting commentary."

Julian froze. "...Seriously?"

Vincent pressed his lips into a tight line, his Adam's apple rolling once with visible difficulty, forcing out a single word: "Yes."

If the floor lamp had been any brighter, Julian would absolutely have seen how much his perfect brother was struggling to maintain control, how agonized his expression truly was.

The problem was, while Vincent's hand pinned my leg to keep me still, the rest of me was curled between his legs, my hands completely free.

And besides, no one could see beneath this heavy solid wood desk anyway.

Watching Julian's smug face just steps away, wicked excitement flared in my chest. My fingertips traced upward, slowly dragging across Vincent's abdomen, taut as stone.

With each touch, his stomach convulsed and tightened violently. I took advantage of the loose waistband of his sweatpants, following the deep V of his obliques downward without hesitation.

The moment I made full contact, the massive, nearly uncontrolled reaction shocked even me.