Chapter 2

Delphine’s POV

Theodore's arm stayed pressed against mine.

Warm. Solid. No sign of retreat.

My pulse quickened, but I kept my eyes fixed on the water, pretending nothing was happening.

The yacht hit a rough patch and lurched sharply.

"Ahh—!"

Scarlett's theatrical shriek echoed from the front. She threw herself against Lucian, hands clutching his shoulders, face buried in the curve of his neck.

"That scared me so much, Lucian..." Her voice was soft and sugary, ending on a breathy note. "Thank God you're here."

She lifted her head and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Right at the corner of his mouth. Maybe a centimeter away from his lips.

Lucian instinctively steadied her waist and let the moment linger before frowning slightly. "Scarlett. Watch the setting."

He glanced toward the back—checking to see if I was watching.

"Delphine's right there."

I almost laughed out loud.

So he did remember I existed?

Scarlett immediately put on her best wounded-doe expression, those cat-eyes widening with hurt. "Lucian, I've always thought of you as family. Professionally and personally... you're like my mentor. My older brother."

She bit her lower lip, her voice growing more plaintive. "I just wasn't feeling well. I moved without thinking..."

Lucian sighed and patted her hand, his tone gentle. "I know you only see me as family. It's Delphine who's always making a big deal out of nothing."

I looked down at my arm—still pressed against Theodore's.

That unfamiliar spark of rebellion flared hotter.

I shifted slightly, letting my shoulder brush his. The cabin had grown cool. I pulled the thin blanket draped over the seat and covered myself with it.

The blanket's edge fell, hiding our arms from view.

That's when a hand found mine.

He was holding my hand.

I went completely still.

His palm was broad and warm. His fingers were long and strong. The grip was gentle, yet carried an unmistakable weight—like a silent claim of possession.

My heart hammered so hard I thought it might burst through my chest.

A current spread from where his hand clasped mine, racing through my entire body, pooling low in my belly. A tingling heat unfurled there, and I found myself pressing my thighs together involuntarily.

Something long dormant was stirring awake.

The sensation was so foreign.

Seven years of marriage to Lucian, and he had never made me feel like this.

Theodore Sinclair.

The most unapproachable man in Sylvan City. CEO of Sinclair Industries. Billions in net worth. Power that rivaled dynasties.

I'd heard all the rumors about him.

"Cold-blooded. Ruthless. A workaholic."

"No interest in women whatsoever."

"Thirty-seven and never married? Has to be gay. Or frigid."

But the man holding my hand right now didn't match any of those stories.

His palm was hot. Hot enough to burn.

My mind drifted back twelve years.

I was twenty-two, fresh out of college. My uncle had dragged me to a gala hosted by the Sinclair family. I'd gotten lost in their massive estate and accidentally pushed open the wrong door—

Theodore Sinclair was standing right there.

He was changing his shirt.

His shirt was already off, revealing a lean, powerful torso, muscles shifting beneath golden skin in the dim light. He turned to look at me, those deep blue eyes holding surprise—and something calculating.

We stared at each other for exactly three seconds.

Then I slammed the door shut and fled like the building was on fire.

For the next twelve years, whenever we crossed paths at events, I kept my distance. I never met his eyes.

My breathing grew uneven.

Whatever. Stop overthinking.

I wasn't some blushing virgin anymore.

This was just holding hands. It wasn't like we were going to end up in bed together.

What was I so afraid of?