Chapter 8 #2
Mia pasted on a faint smile, hoping he couldn’t see her fear.
“Then… yes,” she murmured, her voice steadier than she felt.
“Bianca. She’s the one who used to tell me stories about the world outside.
She spoke of the many places she visited—the Aegean Sea, the Eiffel Tower, the Caribbean, and the Grand Canyon.
They sounded so vast, so full of life. I want to see all of them one day and so many more. ”
His gaze softened, though there was an edge of something darker beneath it.
“Those cold walls devoid of anything personal are not a home,” he said. “They were a cage dressed as a sanctuary.”
Mia peered up at him, startled by the conviction in his voice. The wind tangled her hair, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of old bitterness in his eyes. Have you ever felt caged in this life? she asked silently, not daring to give voice to the thought.
Mia didn’t know how to feel around him. His presence radiated warmth now, a strange kind of safety she didn’t trust. His earlier words about love—spoken so matter-of-factly—had made him sound almost human, almost like any other man who wanted to be understood.
Yet something in his eyes had betrayed the illusion.
She had the sudden, uneasy sense that if Luc ever loved, it would not be a gentle thing.
He wanted her affection not because he needed it, but because it would bind her more tightly to him, another chain disguised as tenderness. And though he had promised honesty, Mia found herself too afraid to ask the questions that clawed at her heart.
“I will give you a proper home,” he continued, lifting his hand to brush his fingers over her cheek. “One in every country, should you wish it. And I’ll make sure you see every place you’ve ever dreamed of.”
Her breath caught at the promise. “Would I be alone… or would you come with me?”
His eyes softened, though a shadow lingered there. “If you wish me there, I will be there.”
The words settled deep in her chest, stirring something she couldn’t name. The thought of traveling the world with him was both breathtaking and terrifying. It felt like standing at the edge of a cliff, the sea roaring below, knowing one step forward could mean either flight or ruin.
Mia couldn’t explain why those two sensations—fear and yearning—kept crashing together inside her.
He was offering her the kind of freedom she had only ever imagined from the safety of her bare room at St. Mary’s.
Yet that freedom came wrapped in his control.
Still, a part of her, reckless and human, wanted to say yes.
To toss herself headlong into this new life, into his world, and see what waited beyond the edge without ever looking back.
But when had anything in her life ever been that simple?
The ocean threw light across his face; his jaw was a hard line. She felt small and suddenly very, unbearably exposed. This was about him knowing things she had kept small and secret, dreams she shared with no one, not even Bianca.
“Given you know so much about me, you need to tell me something else about you. Something no one else knows.”
Luc’s mouth curved, slow and deliberate. “I miss chocolate cake.”
She blinked, startled. “That is hardly something to keep secret.”
His smile lingered, but his eyes held a darker glint. “A maid once prepared it for my birthday. If I had not given my dog a piece to lick, I would be dead. I haven’t touched chocolate cake since, nor have I had a dog again.”
Mia sucked in a sharp breath. The simple words carried the weight of betrayal, of blood, of a life balanced on suspicion. She felt cold at the thought. Someone in his own home had taken a bribe, intending to murder him.
Her eyes fell to a faint line just beneath his jaw. Tentatively, she lifted her fingers to trace it. “And this?”
His lips twitched, but he didn’t flinch from her touch. “A knife fight.” His voice was soft, matter-of-fact. Then his gaze hardened, storm-gray and unyielding. “I won.”
Mia allowed her fingers to drift over his naked chest, almost awed by the muscles that rippled there like snakes. She traced a scar almost directly in the center of his chest. “And this?”
“A sniper took a shot from an impressive distance. It tore through the vest and still harmed me.”
“I cannot imagine such a life,” she whispered. “How many times have you brushed against death’s door… how many times have you killed?”
“It is your life now,” he murmured, the words brushing over her like a vow and a curse.
“My life now,” she repeated softly. The words lodged in her chest, stark and final.
Rattled, Mia pulled away from his nearness and pushed herself toward the shore, the water swirling cool and silken around her thighs. She sank onto the wet sand, breath still uneven, her pulse a wild rhythm beneath her skin.
Luc was already farther out, paddling through the glittering expanse, his movements powerful and sure.
The late sun slanted gold over the waves, gilding the droplets that splashed from his arms as he cut through the surf.
He looked almost otherworldly—broad-shouldered, sleek, and commanding—as if the sea itself obeyed him.
“I am so fanciful,” she said, laughing at herself.
She watched as he sat astride the board, scanning the horizon with the focus of a predator.
Then, in a smooth, unhurried motion, he rose to his feet, balanced effortlessly as a cresting wave rose behind him.
For a heartbeat, he looked like something sculpted from the wind and water—raw strength and grace-made flesh.
Mia’s breath caught as the wave lifted him high, curling and roaring around his body.
He leaned into it, guiding the board with a mastery that sent a thrill through her chest. When he rode the wave all the way in, water spraying around him in a white halo, she jumped to her feet before she even realized what she was doing.
“Luc!” she shouted, cupping her hands to her mouth. “That was incredible!”
Her laughter startled her—it was bright, wild, and utterly unrestrained. She clapped, grinning like a fool, and for the first time since leaving St. Mary’s, she felt something fierce and unburdened stir inside her.
When he glanced toward her, a slow, dangerous smile curved his lips, and it hit her like a rush of heat. She didn’t know what shocked her more—the intensity of his gaze, or how easily he had awakened this unguarded version of herself.