Chapter 15
The Intoxication of Liability
While the doctor methodically works to remove the bullet fragment from Lucius’s body, Tessa cannot stop staring at his profile, no matter how many times she forcefully tries to look away.
It isn’t as if she has never seen blood before in her life.
The world has shown her enough unpleasant, raw things in her past that the mere sight of injury shouldn’t affect her senses this deeply, yet with him, every single detail feels fundamentally different somehow.
Perhaps it is because she can tell with absolute certainty that he is experiencing immense physical pain, even though his rigid nature flatly refuses to show it openly to the room.
She notices the slight, sharp tension in his jaw whenever the doctor presses near the torn flesh, and the almost invisible tightening in his muscles whenever the lead shifts under Adrian’s silver tools, but even then, his expression barely changes.
That same unyielding calmness remains fixed on his sharply structured face—cold, controlled, and dark—as if pain is not a force capable of overpowering his mind.
Instead, it feels like he is the one controlling the agony, forcing it into complete silence through the sheer power of his will alone.
And for some reason, that display of inhuman restraint disturbs her far more than the blood pooling on the table.
Because beneath her rising panic, Tessa still cannot fully process the magnitude of what she has done only a few minutes ago.
She has kissed him.
It isn’t because he has pressured her into a corner, and it isn’t because he has expertly manipulated her defences.
She has kissed him simply because she has wanted to, and that stark realization alone is more than enough to make her entire body feel strangely, frustratingly overheated.
The vivid memory keeps replaying inside her mind like a looping film, no matter how hard she tries to anchor her focus on something else in the room.
His face is so close to her own, his warm breath brushing softly against her lips while he stands there waiting in the shadows without forcing a single movement, and somehow, her control completely dissolves in that singular pocket of time.
Even now, standing only a few feet away from his perimeter, her lips can still remember exactly how the contact has felt.
Is it a catastrophic mistake? Or is it something far worse? She honestly does not possess the capacity to know anymore.
From the very first day she meets Lucius, she knows there is something intrinsically dangerous about his existence.
A person can feel the weight of his shadows without him needing to speak a single word aloud.
It exists in the terrifying way he looks at people, like his intellect is always studying their weaknesses instead of simply seeing their presence.
His eyes carry this constant, freezing awareness, as if he can already predict the exact words someone will say long before they ever open their mouth to speak.
Every calculated movement, every heavy silence, and every unreadable expression around him feels designed to make normal people instinctively step back into safety.
And yet tonight, for a few brief seconds in the dark, she does not see that calculation in him at all.
When she closes the distance to kiss his lips, there is no cold prediction in his eyes, no ruthless control, and no unreadable distance.
There is something else burning there—something sharp and magnetic enough to send another wave of heat rushing through her chest just remembering the weight of his mouth.
The realization hits her so suddenly and intensely that Tessa immediately covers her mouth with her hand, her entire face burning with a sudden wave of embarrassment.
She can physically feel the crimson warmth spreading rapidly across her cheeks, and the sensation makes her want to sink into the floor and disappear on the spot.
She hasn’t felt this raw, adolescent embarrassment in years.
Then, breaking through her internal chaos, she hears it.
A low, quiet laugh.
Her head snaps up instantly, her eyes widening, and the exact moment she realizes Lucius is looking directly at her, her heartbeat betrays her sanity all over again.
The familiar, freezing calmness has already returned to his features, smooth and unreadable like always, but there is still the faintest trace of dark amusement lingering near the corner of his lips.
She forces her eyes to look away immediately, staring at the floorboards. Staring at a man like him for too long simply no longer feels safe for her heart.
“Trying to avoid me now?” Lucius asks quietly, his deep voice low, slow, and raspy in a way that only serves to make her nervous system more erratic.
Tessa does not offer an answer. Honestly, she has absolutely no idea what an ordinary girl is supposed to say after kissing a dangerous man like him without thinking of the consequences first.
For a few long, agonizing seconds, he simply watches her in absolute silence before speaking again. “Sweetheart…” His voice softens just a fraction of a degree, taking on a tone that makes her breath hitch. “Do you even realize what you did to me one hour ago?”
Her chest tightens instantly, her lungs starving for air. Slowly, helplessly, she gives a small nod. “Yes.”
Lucius stays silent for another heavy moment before slowly pushing his massive frame up from the edge of the wooden table.
Nearby, Adrian has already begun the process of organizing his medical equipment back into his case, while the personal bodyguards continue securing the perimeter outside the glass windows, their disciplined movements quiet but highly alert.
Even with the logistical movements of his men around him, Lucius’s attention never fully leaves her frame.
“Then,” he says calmly, his heavy boots taking a step closer toward her position, “I’ll give you exactly one chance to fix your mistake.”
Tessa frowns in complete confusion, her defensive walls rising. “Excuse me?”
He comes to a stop directly in front of her face—not closes enough to completely overwhelm her senses the way he does before the lights go out, but still more than close enough to make her breathing uneven all over again. “Work for me.”
For a wild second, Tessa genuinely thinks her mind is playing tricks on her and she has heard his words wrong. “What?”
“You hear me clearly.” His expression doesn’t alter a single millimetre. “You’ll work as my personal assistant. You’ll organize my confidential documents, prepare my court files, and manage my daily schedules.”
She stares up at him in sheer, unadulterated disbelief.
Court. Right. She technically knows he is a high-profile lawyer by profession.
But absolutely nothing about Lucius’s presence feels limited to the boundaries of the legal system.
There is something far darker, more predatory underneath that expensive suit and controlled voice—something dangerous enough that the title Attorney At Law almost sounds completely meaningless attached to his name.
Before her brain can even formulate a proper response to the absurd demand, he speaks again. “And before you refuse…” His deep tone remains perfectly calm, but somehow, the vibration of it still sounds like a lethal warning to her ears. “Think very carefully.”
It isn’t exactly an explicit threat. But it definitely isn’t a harmless request either.
The heavy silence stretches out between them like a taut wire, and when she still doesn’t provide an answer, that faint, dangerous smile appears on his lips once more before his gaze shifts toward one of his waiting bodyguards. “Give her my business card.”
Immediately, one of the men reaches into his dark coat pocket and hands her a sleek, heavy black card.
Tessa takes the material slowly, her fingers brushing the paper as she looks down at it.
The design is surprisingly simple, carrying a stark elegance.
There are no unnecessary details and no flashy corporate logos.
Just his name printed neatly across the dark surface:
LUCIUS BLACKWOOD.
And beneath the name, in smaller, silver letters—Attorney At Law.
She keeps staring at the black card while her thoughts spiral further into a state of absolute confusion.
Nothing about tonight feels real or tethered to reality anymore.
Lucius doesn’t say another word to her after that.
He simply looks down at her one last time with those unreadable eyes before turning on his heel toward the exit.
His bodyguards follow his silhouette instantly, tightly surrounding his frame the exact moment his boots step outside into the cool Brooklyn air.
A few seconds later, the heavy glass door clicks shut, and the fashion shop becomes completely silent again.
And Tessa is still standing there in the shadows. Holding his business card in her hand like the paper weighs far more than a piece of stock should.
Slowly, her weak legs walk toward the nearby chair, and she sits down heavily, staring at the black card resting between her trembling fingers while her thoughts continue to collapse into each other. “What kind of trap did I just willingly fall into…?” she whispers quietly to the empty room.
The remainder of the night passes in a state of complete, exhausting chaos inside her head.
No matter how hard she tries to force her focus onto her sewing patterns, her thoughts always return to the exact same looping question: Why did she kiss him?
Has she completely lost her sanity? Lucius is dangerous in every single possible way a man can be.
Raw violence follows his footsteps naturally.
He has heavily armed bodyguards, faceless enemies willing to shoot him in the middle of the night, a personal doctor who treats bullet wounds like routine appointments, and somehow, she has still let herself get close enough to melt into his touch.
And the absolute worst part of her realization? She cannot fully bring herself to regret the kiss. That specific truth terrifies her more than the gunfire.
Even the next morning, while walking toward her boutique, her analytical thoughts remain hopelessly tangled in the same web of confusion.
Brooklyn has barely started the process of waking up yet, the concrete streets still carrying that cold, early-morning quietness before the city turns loud and frantic again.
She stops in front of her shop and reaches into her leather bag for her keys, but before her fingers can unlock the door, she notices a figure standing nearby in the mist.
He is tall, dressed in a flawless formal suit, and carries a perfectly calm expression. And he is very clearly waiting for her arrival.
Tessa freezes slightly on the pavement, her defences instantly flaring. “Who are you?”
The man smiles with immaculate politeness, giving a small nod. “Victor Moore.” Then, after a brief, heavy pause, he adds with a chillingly calm delivery, “Mr. Blackwood’s right hand.”
A heavy, sinking feeling settles inside her chest immediately, suffocating her breath. And before the man can even continue speaking his next sentence, Tessa already understands the reality of her situation.
Lucius hasn't given her a choice at all. He has sent someone to collect her.
~