Underneath The Truth

A terrifying tension

Edward pushed off the desk, closing the distance between them in two slow, deliberate steps.

“I came back because my father demanded it,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Because this company is crumbling, and I’m the only one who can save it. That’s the only reason I’m here.”

Lucille searched his face, looking for any sign of the man she had once known, the one she had secretly admired from afar while her sister’s marriage fell apart. But this Edward, he was different. Colder. Harder. And yet, there was something else there, something buried beneath the ice. She hated that she still wanted to find it. Lucille let out a humorless laugh.

“Right. Saving the company. And what happens when you succeed? Do you leave again?” He didn’t answer. She shook her head, disgusted. “You haven’t changed, Edward.

You still run when things get too real.” She turned to leave, but before she could reach the door, his voice stopped her.

“I never ran from you, Lucille.” Her breath caught. Slowly, she turned back to him, her pulse hammering in her ears.

Edward’s gaze was unreadable, but there was something raw in it, something that made her chest tighten. She swallowed hard.

“Then why do I feel like you did?” Silence. Neither of them moved. The air between them was charged, thick with tension, with history, with everything they had never said. And for the first time in ten years, Lucille realized something terrifying.

Edward Einstein was not just back. He was about to turn her world upside down. She needed space, anything to clear her mind from the storm Edward had kicked up.

Walking aimlessly down the city streets, she barely noticed the towering buildings or the expensive cars passing by. All she could hear was Celia’s voice.

It didn’t end ten years ago. The words gnawed at her, clawing at wounds she had never quite closed.

By the time she stopped walking, she found herself outside a familiar bar, the kind of place where whiskey came in crystal glasses and secrets were swallowed whole. It wasn’t the kind of place she normally visited.

But tonight, she needed something strong to drown out the memories. Lucille pushed the heavy doors open, the dim lighting casting long shadows over the sleek leather booths.

The hum of conversation and soft jazz filled the space, but she barely noticed as she slid onto a barstool.

“What can I get you?” the bartender asked, eyeing her expensive coat and the tension in her shoulders.

“Dark roast cold brew coffee,” she said, her voice steady. As the bartender poured, she let her gaze drift, her thoughts spinning too fast to catch.

But then she felt it. That unmistakable weight of someone watching her. A chill slid down her spine before she turned.

And there he was. Edward. Seated in a dark corner, one arm draped lazily over the back of the booth, his long fingers wrapped around a tumbler of Apple with cider bitters.

Their eyes locked, and something hot and electric snapped between them. Lucille’s stomach twisted.

What the hell was he doing here? Had he followed her? As if reading her thoughts, Edward lifted his glass slightly, a slow, almost taunting smirk playing on his lips.

Lucille exhaled sharply and turned back to her drink, gripping the glass harder than necessary. She wouldn’t do this. She wouldn’t let him get under her skin. Not again. But her body betrayed her. Her pulse quickened, her skin tingled with awareness, and no matter how much she told herself to ignore him, she could still feel him.

Damn him. She took a sip, letting the burn steady her, then forced herself to relax. If Edward wanted to play games, she wouldn’t make it easy for him.

Fifteen minutes passed. She refused to look at him again, refused to give him the satisfaction. But Edward? He was done waiting.

Without warning, he pushed away from his booth and strode toward her. Lucille’s body stiffened, but she kept her gaze on her drink.

That didn’t stop him. Edward slid onto the stool beside her, his presence like a sudden shift in the air, commanding, inescapable.

For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, his voice came low and smooth.

“You drink hard cold coffee now.” Lucille’s fingers curled around her glass.

“What do you want, Edward?” A beat of silence. Then,

“To know why you’re really here.” She finally turned to face him. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes, dark, intense, searching, held something deeper.

Lucille refused to let it shake her.

“I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Edward tilted his head slightly, studying her.

“You don’t. But I think you’re lying to yourself.”

Her breath caught. Because wasn’t that the truth? Lucille lifted her chin.

“Not everything revolves around you, Edward.” His lips twitched.

“No?” He leaned in just enough for her to catch the faintest trace of his cologne.

“Then why do I make you nervous?”

“I’m not nervous.”

“Your pulse says otherwise.” Lucille wanted to throw her drink in his face. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. Instead, she met his gaze with fire.

“And yours? Is that steady?” For the first time, Edward’s smirk faltered. She saw it, the flicker of something real, something unguarded.

But then, as quickly as it came, it was gone. He leaned back, his smirk returning.

“Be careful, Lucille. You’re playing a dangerous game.” Lucille took a slow sip of her drink, never breaking eye contact.

“So are you.” Edward chuckled, dark and low.

“I always win.” Lucille set her glass down.

“Not this time.” She slid off the stool, grabbed her coat, and walked away, ignoring the way her entire body hummed in his presence.

But just before she reached the door, she heard his voice, smooth and certain.

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” Lucille didn’t stop. She didn’t turn back. But her heart pounded. Because deep down, she feared he might be right.

Lucille stormed out of the bar, the night air cool against her flushed skin. She needed to get away from him. From the way his presence unsettled her, from the memories clawing their way back to the surface.

But Edward wasn’t one to let things go so easily. She had barely reached the valet stand when she felt him behind her.

The warmth of his presence brushed against her back, and before she could spin around, his voice came, low, smooth, and entirely too close.

“Running away, Lucille?” She clenched her jaw, willing herself not to react.

“I have no reason to stay.” Edward let out a slow chuckle, his breath grazing her ear.

“Strange. You seemed rather comfortable back there.” Lucille turned sharply, her eyes flashing.

“You think too highly of yourself.” He stepped closer, his gaze dark and unreadable.

“And you think too much about me.” Her breath caught. Because damn him, he was right. And he knew it. Lucille forced herself to keep her composure.

“If you’re looking for entertainment, find someone else. I’m not interested in playing your games.”

Edward tilted his head slightly, studying her.

“Who said anything about playing?” She narrowed her eyes.

“That’s all you do. You manipulate, you push until people break, and then you walk away like nothing happened.”

A flicker of something passed through his eyes, something almost wounded, but it was gone before she could grasp it.

“You think you know me.” His voice was quieter now, steadier. “But you don’t, Lucille. Not really.” She folded her arms, steel in her posture.

“Then enlighten me.” Edward held her gaze for a long moment, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes.

Then, instead of answering, he did something completely unexpected. He reached for her hand.

Lucille’s breath hitched as his fingers brushed against hers, warm, firm, sending a trail of heat up her arm. But she didn’t pull away. Not yet. His grip was gentle, but there was an undeniable power in it. As if he was testing her reaction, waiting for her to retreat. She didn’t. Instead, she stood her ground, staring up at him with defiance.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Edward smirked.

“Proving a point.” Lucille arched a brow.

“And what’s that?” He leaned in, his voice a whisper against her skin.

“That you’re just as affected by me as I am by you.” Her heart slammed against her ribs. She wanted to deny it. To laugh in his face and walk away without looking back. But she felt it. The pull. The heat.

The dangerous, undeniable chemistry that neither of them could ignore. Lucille swallowed hard, forcing herself to stay in control.

“You’re mistaken.” Edward’s lips curved, but there was something darker in his gaze now.

“Am I?” Lucille exhaled sharply and pulled her hand away.

“I’m leaving.” She turned toward the valet, but before she could call for her car, Edward’s voice stopped her cold.

“I remember your sister.” Her stomach twisted, her fingers curling into fists. She turned back slowly, her voice laced with ice.

“Don’t.” Edward held her gaze, his expression unreadable. “You think I don’t feel guilty?

That I don’t carry it with me every damn day?” Lucille swallowed hard, her throat tight.

“You should feel guilty.” His jaw tensed.

“I do.” Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words. Lucille could see it now, the weight he carried, the burden he hid behind his arrogant smirk and untouchable facade.

But it didn’t change the past. It didn’t change what had been lost.

“I don’t forgive you, Edward,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. Something flickered in his eyes, pain, maybe. But just as quickly, it was gone. He gave a slow nod.

“I wouldn’t expect you to.” Lucille turned away again, this time determined to leave. But just as she stepped toward her car, Edward’s final words cut through the night like a blade.

“But that doesn’t mean you don’t want me.” Her breath caught. Her pulse pounded. She didn’t turn around. She didn’t have to. Because they both knew the truth. And it was terrifying.