Chapter 15
FIFTEEN
LUCAS
I glance at my phone. It’s been about thirty minutes since I got here. The place is quiet, but not in a bad way. More… peaceful. The kind of calm that settles into you rather than suffocates you.
Happiness blooms in my chest as I remember that Alexander would be bringing sushi for dinner. fuck I can’t wait.
I place the book that I was checking out back in the stack and decide to take a look around, I haven’t had the chance to check out his place, but now I do.
The penthouse is bigger than I imagined.
Vast. Expansive. The kind of place that makes you feel small just by walking through it.
Upstairs alone holds a den, an office space, a second bar, an entire entertainment room with a home cinema, and even a pool table positioned beneath an overhead skylight, the felt shining emerald under the light.
There are three bedrooms on this floor—two guest rooms, one door I don’t touch.
Alex’s bedroom.
I don’t even reach for the handle. Something about it feels too private, too intimate, like stepping over a line I don’t deserve to cross. So I turn and make my way back downstairs, heart heavier than before.
The main level opens up into more space that I can barely take in.
A wet and dry kitchen, sleek with black marble counters and matte steel, appliances that hum quietly like they belong to another world.
A dining area long enough to seat twelve, though it feels untouched, almost like a showroom.
Another den with a built-in bar lined with expensive bottles.
Another home office, minimalistic, precise, as if even chaos isn’t allowed here.
There’s a gym, of course. I only glance at the racks of weights, the treadmill facing floor-to-ceiling windows. All of it spotless, maintained, like it’s been waiting for someone to live inside the perfection.
I drift to the balcony and push open the glass doors. The city spreads beneath me in a tapestry of light, glowing against the night sky. The air is cool, crisp, the kind of air you want to bottle and keep with you. I lean against the railing and let it wash over me.
To the side, there’s an outdoor dining area with a grilling island—polished counters gleaming under soft lights. I walk further and find lounge chairs arranged in pairs, scattered cushions that look more decorative than used.
A thought slips in before I can stop it.
What would it feel like… to belong in a life like this?
I round the corner—and freeze.
There’s a pool.
My jaw slackens. Two steps up, water glimmering like liquid glass, stretching the entire length of the balcony. A private pool in the sky.
I shouldn’t be surprised. This is Alexander, after all. Of course, he has something like this. But knowing and seeing are different things, and standing here in front of it feels unreal.
I climb the two shallow steps, slipping out of my shoes, toes brushing against the cool tile. I step closer until the reflection of the water shivers beneath me. It looks endless, too smooth, too deep.
I can’t stop staring.
Maybe it’s because I can’t swim. Maybe it’s because the water feels like something that would swallow me whole, quiet and merciless. Or perhaps it’s because, for the first time in a long time, I feel like I’m standing at the edge of something vast and terrifying. Something bigger than me.
The water reflects my face, but the image feels fragile, like it doesn’t belong here. Not in this world. Not next to Alexander.
Compared to him, I’m just—Nothing.
I shake my head hard, but the thought lingers. No matter how much I try to brush it off, the water keeps pulling me in. I take another step forward, my foot passing the edge, just to see what it feels like, and I can’t tell if the feeling in my chest is fear or longing.
“Lucas.”
I jolt violently, the voice sharp against the quiet.
Too sharp.
My foot slips. My breath catches.
And then—I’m falling.
***
Cold. The shock of it, the way it slams into my body like a wall.
My breath catches as the water swallows me whole, my limbs flailing on instinct.
I can’t swim. And for some weird reason, the pool feels too deep.
Panic spikes through me, fast and sharp, my arms and legs claw at nothing, but before I can even process it, something grabs me.
A firm, unyielding grip—strong hands closing around my arms, pulling me up, dragging me toward the surface, air tears into my lungs in ragged gulps.
I gasp as I break through, choking slightly, but I’m not given much time to recover before I feel myself being hauled toward the pool’s edge.
Alexander.
I don’t even have to look to know it’s him. I feel the heat of his body, the strength in his grip. His movements are fast, not a second of hesitation in the way he pulls me against him, before I know it, my back hits the pool wall, and suddenly, I feel pinned.
My chest is rising and falling quickly, my fingers gripping onto him without thinking—his biceps, his shoulders, anything solid.
I feel him everywhere, the press of his body against mine, the way the water clings to our skin, making everything stick.
His face is close. Too close.
His eyes burn into mine, sharp and intense even in the dim evening light of the balcony.
I can’t breathe, I don’t know if it’s from almost choking in the water or if it’s the way Alexander’s body wraps around me.
“Breathe, Lucas,” he says, his voice is low and muffled in my ear but there is a command to it.
I am trying to.
He exhales, his fingers flexing against my arms before he softens just a fraction. His grip on my waist loosened, though, if anything, it feels like he’s holding me even closer now.
“What were you thinking, standing there like that?” he mutters, brows furrowing.
“I—” I start, but don’t even know what to say.
I can’t think straight. Not with the way he’s looking at me. Not with the way his hair drips, strands plastered against his forehead, water sliding down his cheekbones like the universe itself wanted to trace him. He looks breathtaking, untouchable, and devastatingly handsome.
His thumb grazes my skin, barely there, but enough to make me shiver, chest pressed to mine, broad and solid, heat seeping through the cold water. I can feel his heart against me. Or maybe it’s just mine, hammering too loud, too fast.
And his lips…fuck, they’re so close to mine. So close I can’t think about anything else. My brain stutters, buffering, like it can’t process the possibility of what might happen if he just leans forward an inch.
I swallow hard. My breathing is uneven, desperate to steady itself but failing miserably.
Everything feels magnified—the warmth of his skin against mine, the water between us, the faint brush of his breath over my face.
I know he feels the same way. He has to.
His eyes flicker, sharp blue darkening under the pool light, his jaw tightening like he’s fighting something.
For a second, neither of us moves.
Then, slowly, his gaze drops down to my lips.
The air thickens, charged with something so potent it knots low in my stomach.
Heat spreads through me, a slow ache curling in my chest and unfurling lower and lower, until I’m clinging tighter without even realizing it.
I want him to kiss me. I want it so badly it hurts.
I don’t even realize I’m gripping him tighter.
He inhales. A slow, deliberate breath that feels like it drags me under with him. And then, just like that, he pulls back. Not far, not enough to break the tether strung between us, but enough for the moment to crack and splinter.
“Let’s get you out,” he says finally, his voice back to neutral like nothing happened. Like I didn’t almost burn alive in his arms.
I don’t move. Not right away. Disappointment hits me so hard it almost steals my breath. But I nod, because what else can I do? He lifts me with that effortless strength, guiding me until my feet hit solid ground.
The cold air bites instantly, my clothes clinging wet and heavy, every nerve screaming with too much sensation. A violent shiver racks through me.
He steps back slightly, eyes scanning me, his brows still furrowed. His sharp features are shadowed under the dim lights of the balcony, his usually composed face lined with something I can’t quite place.
“Wait here,” he says, voice firm but soft. “I’ll get you a towel.”
I nod, still catching my breath, reeling from everything that just happened.
I lift a hand to my ear, fingers grazing over my hearing aid, for a second, panic flutters in my chest. But then—it’s fine. I can still hear. The sounds around me are a little muffled, but not silent. I’m surprised it didn’t slip out when I fell into the pool.
“It’s waterproof,” he reminds me as he turns, like he already knew what I was thinking.
I glance up at him, meeting his gaze.
Then, just as I think he’s going to walk away, he doesn’t.
Instead, he turns back to me. My breath catches
Two steps. That’s all he takes—two slow, deliberate steps before he’s in front of me again.
I don’t move. I can’t.
The air between us tightens, coiled and electric, humming with something I can’t name but feel everywhere in my body.
His gaze lowers, and his fingers graze my skin before he tilts my chin up, just enough to make me meet his eyes. His touch is steady, commanding, yet impossibly gentle. Heat seeps from his skin into mine, and my pulse skitters like it’s trying to break free.
His voice drops, husky and low,
“Why do you smell like that?”
The question throws me, but not nearly as much as what comes next. He leans in—closer and closer until his nose brushes just above the curve of my neck.
I freeze. My whole body goes rigid, but inside, I’m shaking with a need I don't understand.
The moment his breath fans across my skin, I forget how to think. How to breathe. How to exist. Then his voice comes again, low and rough, vibrating through me.
“You smell so fucking good.”