Chapter 2

"Miss Williams..."

My heart hammered in my chest.

I felt utterly vulnerable, powerless in the face of Gideon's presence.

"Miss Williams?"

Attorney Scott's voice cut through my thoughts, bringing me back to the present. I turned, my gaze meeting hers.

We were at a cafe, the aroma of coffee and pastries filling the air.

"Attorney Scott..." I mumbled, realizing I'd been lost in my own thoughts.

I glanced at my wristwatch. It was past four in the afternoon. I hadn't eaten lunch.

"You look pale," she said, her voice laced with concern. "Are you okay?"

I stared at her for a moment, my mind still reeling, before nodding.

"Y-Yeah. I'm good."

"You sure?" she pressed, her gaze unwavering. I nodded again, my voice a mere whisper. "Okay then, let's proceed to the pap--"

"I'm here to cancel the petition," I interrupted, my voice firm despite the tremor in my hands.

Attorney Scott's eyebrows shot up in surprise. I understood her reaction. I had a knack for making last-minute decisions, for changing my mind on a whim.

"Why?" she asked, her voice tinged with disbelief.

"You've come so far. You've already spent hundreds of dollars on this petition."

I didn't answer, instead, I pulled a check from my purse and placed it on the table.

"Thank you for helping me this far, Attorney Scott," I said, my voice strained. I stood up, ready to leave.

"I can't accept this check without doing anything, Miss Williams," she said, her voice firm. "I'm a lawyer."

I sighed. "I know, but it won't affect your image, especially your ego. You did your job. Take this because you've done it well. Thank you."

I didn't wait for her response, I turned and walked out of the cafe.

I had no reason to cancel the petition. I'd come so far, but the files were gone. Gideon had torn them to shreds. I shouldn't have brought them with me.

I hailed a cab and twenty minutes later, I was back at my condo.

Yawning, I dragged myself towards my bedroom, my eyes drooping with exhaustion.

I fell onto the bed, my heels thudding against the covers.

I rubbed my eyes, then flung my arm over my face, seeking the darkness. I didn't even bother turning on the lights.

In the darkness, the events of the day replayed in my mind. My heart pounded, my palms slick with sweat.

"I never expected him to find me," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

"Why did I stay so calm? Why did I assume he wouldn't go this far, that he wouldn't search for me?" My thoughts drifted, my mind a whirlwind of emotions.

I began to nod off, Gideon's image filling my dreams. Surely, I thought, after today, nothing would ever be the same.

...

The scent of roasted chicken tickled my nose, waking me from a restless sleep.

I reached for my alarm clock, silencing its insistent beeping.

I was about to close my eyes again when the smell hit me with full force.

"Wait..." I mumbled, confusion swirling in my mind. "I'm certain the lights were off when I fell asleep..." I opened my eyes, my gaze falling on the room. The lights were on.

I looked down at my feet. My heels were gone!

Without hesitation, I stood and ran to the kitchen.

The smell was stronger now, and I was right.

Someone was using the kitchen.

"You're awake," a deep, husky voice said. It took a moment for the voice to register on my mind.

Gideon.

He was wearing a black apron over a white t-shirt, a ladle in his hand, stirring something on the stove.

My stomach twisted, a jolt of electricity crackling through my veins. Time seemed to slow down.

"What? How is this happening?" I whispered, my voice barely a sound. This wasn't possible.

"Well, it already did," he said, his expression unreadable.

I stared at him, my mind struggling to process the situation. He turned back to the stove, his movements fluid and graceful.

My eyes fell on the table. A roasted chicken, glistening and golden, sat on a platter. How long had he been here?

"It's already nine in the evening. I sleep that much, aye?" I mumbled to myself, my voice barely a whisper.

My shoulders slumped, and I turned to leave the kitchen, but a hand clamped onto my waist, stopping me in my tracks.

"Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his voice a low rumble against my ear. His breath, warm and intoxicating, sent shivers down my spine. "Look at me," he said, pulling me closer, forcing me to face him.

His gaze, intense and unwavering, softened as he held my eyes. His pupils dilated, and a flicker of something dark and dangerous danced in their depths.

I noticed the veins pulsing in his neck, his breathing heavy, his whole body radiating an almost unbearable intensity.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, trying to pull away, but his grip tightened. He cleared his throat, his gaze unwavering.

"I got my permission," he said, his voice smooth as silk. My eyebrow shot up.

"From who?"

"Your husband." I paused, my mind struggling to process his words.

"Husband?"

"Yeah," he said, a smirk playing on his lips. "Me." I stopped, taken aback. Instead of throwing a tantrum, I just stared at him, my mind a whirlwind of confusion.

There was no way to get rid of him in my condo. It was impossible.

"Sit," he said, his voice a command. I couldn't defy him. I couldn't bring myself to defy him.

He pulled out a chair for me, then turned back to the stove.

Minutes passed, the only sound is the rhythmic clicking of the stovetop. He must have finished cooking.

He placed a clean plate in front of me.

"Here, eat this," he said, placing a mound of rice and a succulent chicken thigh on the plate. "It's your favorite." I was stunned. How could he remember? It had been four years.

I started eating, my silence a testament to the shock that had me frozen. I felt his gaze on me, a constant, heavy presence. I shifted my eyes around the kitchen, trying to avoid his intense stare.

"Aren't you going to eat?" he asked, his voice low and dangerous. His gaze never left my face.

I shrugged, my throat dry. I was about to take another bite when he suddenly grabbed my hand, the spoon I was holding falling to the floor with a clatter. I stared at him, my heart pounding. What was he doing?

He moved closer, his body a wall against mine. His face was inches from mine, his gray eyes burning into me.

"W-What?" I stammered, my voice barely a whisper.

He didn't answer. His lips brushed the corner of my mouth, a feather-light touch that sent a jolt of electricity through my body.

I felt his lips move against my skin, a gentle, almost teasing suck.

I froze.

The warmth of his touch, the intoxicating scent of his cologne, it all conspired to paralyze me.

I wanted to push him away, to scream, but my body refused to obey. After a moment, he pulled away, leaving me breathless and dumbfounded.

My cheeks burned as I realized what had just happened. No one had ever touched me like that. For four years, I had kept myself safe, untouched, but he had broken through my defenses with a single, fleeting touch.

I stared at him, my mind a blank canvas. It was as if a lightning bolt had struck my senses, leaving me reeling.

A beat of silence stretched between us before he broke into a soft chuckle.

"That's enough dinner for me," he said, licking his lips, his gaze lingering on mine, a dangerous glint in his eyes.

I was breathless, my heart hammering in my chest. But then, a surge of anger, of defiance, coursed through me.

I stood up, my hand flying out, striking his cheek with a resounding slap.

He was stunned.

"It's a good thing I never let you have me four years ago," I said, my voice trembling with anger. "If you think you're above everyone else, well, I'm not them." I glared at him, my voice filled with a fierce determination. "Even if the world is ending, I won't love you. Never."