Heir Clause

CHAPTER 5: The Ghost of Old Flames

The sun had barely risen when Caliste stretched in bed, her body tangled in the silky sheets of the villa. She blinked sleepily, momentarily forgetting where she was. The distant sound of waves reminded her.

Island. Villa. "Honeymoon." And Lucian freaking Velmore.

She turned—and saw the other side of the bed empty. Just a dent in the pillow and the scent of his cologne lingering faintly.

He was probably running or swimming. Or brooding somewhere shirtless and dramatic.

She shuffled to the kitchen, only to find him there, coffee in hand, shirtless indeed, wearing joggers like a walking magazine cover.

"Morning, wife," he said with a teasing grin. "Sleep well?"

"I would've if your cologne didn't try to choke me to death."

"Admit it. You like it."

"I'd rather admit I like sand in my shoes."

Lucian laughed and slid a cup toward her. "Big plans today?"

"I thought I'd read. Nap. Maybe throw myself into the ocean if you keep acting smug."

He sipped his coffee. "You love it."

She snorted—but didn't deny it.

Later that afternoon, the resort hosted a yacht party for all villa guests. The sky was clear, the music upbeat, and Caliste found herself laughing more than she expected. Lucian, relaxed and charismatic, was suddenly less annoying and more… addictive.

And then it happened.

"Cali?"

She froze.

That voice. That stupid, deep voice that once made her blush in high school.

She turned, heart stumbling—and there he was.

Jace Carter.

Sun-kissed skin, easy grin, and that same dimple on his cheek that once made every girl in their school melt. Her childhood crush. The boy who once asked her to prom and ghosted her three days before.

He was taller now, a little more rugged, but still entirely, frustratingly attractive.

"Jace?" she said, stunned.

"I thought that was you," he said, stepping closer. "Wow. You… you look amazing."

Lucian appeared beside her in a flash, his hand suddenly on the small of her back. "Friend of yours?"

Jace raised an eyebrow. "Yeah. We went to school together. I used to call her Cali."

"I still call her that," Lucian said smoothly. "But only when she's behaving."

Caliste blinked. What the hell was that?

Jace chuckled, glancing between them. "I didn't know you were married."

"Barely," she muttered.

Lucian's hand tightened just slightly.

Jace gave a lazy smile. "Well, I'm here for a photo shoot. Fashion campaign. Figured I'd mix some work with beach time. You know how it is."

Lucian's jaw tensed. "Sounds thrilling."

Jace turned back to Caliste. "We should catch up sometime. I mean… it's been years."

Caliste smiled politely. "Sure. Maybe later."

After he walked away, Lucian narrowed his eyes. "You dated that guy?"

"No," she said quickly. "He ghosted me before prom."

Lucian looked oddly satisfied. "Good. I don't like his face."

"You don't like anyone's face."

"True. But especially his."

She rolled her eyes and walked away, but Lucian followed.

"You blushed when he showed up."

"No, I didn't."

"You did."

"Shut up, Lucian."

They spent the next hour sipping drinks in silence, both tense. She hated how Lucian suddenly looked annoyed. And worse—how it made her feel kind of… giddy.

Later, she stood alone at the bar, staring at the ocean when Jace returned.

"I didn't mean to make it awkward," he said, sliding beside her.

"It's fine. You just have terrible timing."

Jace grinned. "You've really changed, Caliste. In a good way. Confident. Strong. Sexy."

She looked away, unsure how to respond.

Then, before she could react, a warm arm slid around her waist.

Lucian.

He leaned in, low voice in her ear. "I think it's time for our swim, darling."

Jace raised an eyebrow.

"Excuse us," Lucian added, leading her away before she could say a word.

When they were out of earshot, Caliste yanked his arm off. "What are you doing?"

Lucian turned to face her. "Stopping your ex-crush from flirting with my wife."

"Not your business."

"You're my wife."

"On paper!"

"You're mine, Caliste," he said firmly. "Even if it's for a contract, I won't watch another man undress you with his eyes."

She stared at him, stunned. "That wasn't jealousy… was it?"

Lucian said nothing, his chest rising with his breath.

She smirked. "Well well. Mr. Velmore has feelings."

"I don't."

"You do."

"I don't like sharing."

She stepped closer. "What if I wanted to talk to him?"

Lucian's eyes burned into hers. "Then I'd remind you who sleeps beside you every night."

"You don't sleep beside me."

"I could."

The air crackled. Their breath mingled. His hand brushed her wrist.

Her pulse jumped.

"I think," she whispered, "this vacation is getting too real."

He leaned in, voice a low rumble. "Then let's make it real."

Caliste stood in front of the mirror in a flowy white sundress, one hand on her hip. A breeze came through the balcony doors, lifting the edge of the skirt. It was simple, sweet—and perfect for exactly what she planned.

She smiled to herself. She accepted Jace invitation for a coffee just to make Lucian jealous.

Lucian was in for a little surprise.

Down by the beach café, Jace was already waiting, sunglasses on, shirt loose and open like every model on a travel magazine cover. She walked up, hips swaying, pretending not to see Lucian lounging on a nearby sunbed with a book he wasn't reading.

Jace stood and grinned. "Wow. You look…"

"Like someone who didn't get ditched for prom this time?" she said with a wink.

He laughed. "I deserved that. I was an idiot."

"You still might be," she teased, sitting down. "But I'm giving you five minutes to convince me otherwise."

Meanwhile, Lucian's jaw clenched behind his book. He didn't hear a word on the page. He only saw Caliste laughing—really laughing—with that guy. Her smile wasn't polite. It was genuine. And that stung more than it should have.

Jace leaned in, voice low. "I always had a thing for you, you know. But you were too good for me."

"I still am," Caliste replied, smirking.

Lucian snapped his book shut and stood. Enough.

He walked over, cool and calm, but with fire in his eyes.

"Hello again," he said smoothly. "Mind if I steal my wife for a second?"

Caliste looked up. "Actually—"

"It's important," he said, tone firm.

Jace raised an eyebrow. "Sure. We'll catch up later, Caliste."

Lucian didn't wait. He took her hand and led her a few steps away.

"Lucian!" she said, laughing in disbelief. "You really just dragged me away?"

"You're done flirting with that guy."

"Who said I was flirting?"

"I saw your eyes. And I don't like it."

She folded her arms. "Too bad. I like making you uncomfortable."

He took a step closer. "Why are you doing this?"

"I don't know," she said honestly. "Maybe because for once, I want you to feel what I felt when I thought I wasn't enough for you."

His expression flickered. That one hit deeper than he expected.

He stared at her for a moment—then without warning, reached out and pulled her into him.

"Lucian—"

He cut her off with a kiss.

It wasn't soft. It wasn't careful. It was desperate and wild and possessive. The kind of kiss that burned with jealousy and longing and confusion. The kind that made everything else disappear.

Her hands pressed against his chest, but she didn't push him away.

His hands were on her waist, holding her like he couldn't let go. The world vanished. Just waves and heartbeats and heat.

When he finally pulled away, breathless, he stared at her.

"You drive me insane," he said hoarsely.

She blinked up at him. "Well. That's… mutual."

Neither moved.

Then she whispered, "Do it again."

And he did.

Caliste couldn't sleep.

She lay in the enormous bed staring at the ceiling fan, her mind spinning faster than the blades. She could still feel Lucian's kiss on her lips. Not the heat of it—no, that had faded. But the meaning behind it? That haunted her.

Why had he kissed her like that?

Why had she kissed him back?

It was supposed to be fake. Convenient. Political. They didn't even like each other most days. And yet… when his lips met hers, nothing about it had felt fake.

In fact, it felt dangerously real.

She turned to the empty side of the bed.

Lucian hadn't returned to the room after dinner. Typical. Avoid the mess. Ignore the feelings. Classic Lucian.

But he couldn't hide forever.

---

The Next Morning

Caliste walked into the dining table late, wearing a loose robe and messy bun—intentional, yet effortlessly pretty. She was prepared for him.

Lucian was already at the table, reading his phone, a cup of espresso half-finished in front of him. His eyes flicked up briefly when she walked in. No smile. No warmth.

"Morning," he said flatly.

"Really?" she said, sitting down. "That's it?"

He didn't look at her. "Would you prefer a song and dance?"

"I'd prefer an explanation."

Lucian set his phone down and folded his arms. "About what?"

"You kissed me."

"And you kissed me back."

"That's not the point!"

"Then what is the point, Caliste?" he snapped, finally looking at her. "You flirted with your old crush to make me jealous, and it worked. Congratulations."

She stared at him. "I wasn't trying to—"

"Yes, you were. And it worked. I got jealous. I lost control. And I kissed you. I regret the timing, not the kiss."

Her breath caught. "What does that mean?"

He stood, running a hand through his hair. "It means I don't know what the hell we're doing anymore."

"Then talk to me, Lucian!"

"You said this marriage was fake," he said, voice low. "But when I kissed you, it didn't feel fake. That's the problem."

Silence.

She stood too, arms crossed tightly. "So what now? You just avoid me like nothing happened?"

"It's easier that way."

"For who?"

"For both of us," he muttered, walking out.

She didn't follow.