Episode.5
1231 Words
She is back.
Luke tossed his phone onto the desk with tension on his shoulders. Abigail studied him, the rigid set of his jaw, the way his fingers moved before forming a fist, annoyed, frustrated, maybe both.
Who was that?
She asked, her voice steady, though something in her chest tightened.
No one that concerns you.
Lies.
His grip on control was too sharp and too forced. She took a step forward, catching the waver when she said,
Your mother, wasn't it?
He didn't answer, but his silence was an answer itself.
She's furious, isn't she? Abigail bent her head, pushing it just a little. I assume she had someone else in mind, someone more suitable.
His gaze locked onto her, dark and indifferent. Abigail smirked, though her pulse betrayed her. You're a billionaire. Luke, surely you could have picked a bride your mother actually approves of.
His lips pressed into thin lines. I don't need her approval.
The way he said it too sharply and quickly made something in her stomach twist.
Then why do you look like a man walking into a war?
A muscle tickled in his jaw, and he turned, fixing his eyes on the city's skyline. We will visit her soon. No room for argument, no softness in his tone. Abigail folded her arms. Oh! I'm sure she will be thrilled.
Luke didn't respond. He didn't have to; they both knew how Kate Vandell felt about the marriage.
After dinner, Abigail paced to and fro in the living room, arms crossed, fully aware of Luke's presence; since after the call, he became too quiet yet composed.
There was something snappy in the air between them. "You're quiet," she murmured, not turning around. A shift, then a faint crackle of fabric, and the faint tap of his watch against his wrist were all heard.
"This isn't home"
She said, looking through the cold, clean decor. It is a well-decorated cage. Luke moved slowly and deliberately, her breath seized.
"It's whatever you make it".
His voice was low and controlled, yet there was something below it. She turned. He was closer than she expected—too close. Her heart pounded, but she lifted her chin. You expect me to just exist here waiting for orders? His lips curled, not quite a smirk. No, I expect you to behave.
Something about the way he said it sent heat rushing through her, then his fingers brushed against her wrist, a light touch barely there, but it burned.
Abigail froze, her pulse pounding in her throat. Luke didn't move either for a breath or a heartbeat. She felt warmth from him, the quiet challenge in his gaze. His eyes moved to her lips.
Her breath seized. Would he then?
As if pulling himself back, he stepped away. The space between them felt colder.
"Go to bed" he said, smooth and indifferent. We're visiting my mother in the morning. Abigail exhaled, forcing herself to match his indifference, but as she turned away, her skin still felt where he had touched her.
This wasn't a game she wanted to play, but she wasn't sure she had a choice.
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The Vandells estate stood around them, clean and sophisticated. The moment Abigail stepped inside, the change in energy was obvious. This wasn't just a house; it was Kate's domain. Every inch of it screamed wealth, power, and silent warnings.
At the long dining table, Kate sat opposite them like a queen on her throne, her fingers tapping against a crystal wine glass. The chandelier above cast a gold glow, making the diamonds glitter, but her gaze was cold and calculating.
"So" Kate said, not looking at Abigail, "You went through with it." Luke settled into her chair beside Abigail in confidence.
Did you doubt me? Hmmm, she exhaled slowly, the only sign of displeasure. Her gaze flashed over Abigail dismissively before landing back on her son. "You're usually so careless, Luke."
Abigail's spine went stiff. Luke's fingers drummed against the table carelessly. Kate turned the wine in the glass, her face blank. Marriage is a weapon. Luke, I assume you would choose one that sharpens your blade, not dulls it. Abigail felt the sting in her heart, her fingers curling into her lap.
Luke's hand stretched beside her slightly and controlling, like a crack in the surface, but he didn't defend her. Instead, his voice remained smooth and unwavering.
I don't need a weapon. mother Kate's lip curved slowly. Oh dear, you always have. Then, as if enjoying the moment, she leaned forward, which is why you will be happy to know--she's back.
The room was quiet. Abigail felt it before she saw it, the way Luke's entire body tensed, the way his fingers stilled against the table, his breath drawing slowly and controlled. His mother's smile sharpened.
Obetta…
The name hit the air like a stone, waiting through the silence. Luke didn't react immediately, but Abigail saw the move, the way his grip tightened, the flash of something restrained. He swallowed once and exhaled. That's irrelevant, Mother.
Kate pulled back. Is it? She asked. Abigail kept quiet watching them, her stomach twisting. She didn't know who Obetta was, but she knew one thing: Luke wasn't as indifferent as he wanted to be.
The car ride back home was silent. Luke sat beside her, his jaw tight, fingers drumming against his knee, slow and restless beat, not unaffected at all. Abigail watched him, her own pulse steady but curious. The tension in the air hung between them, thick and unspoken.
She shifted, letting her shoulder brush his. Who is she? Luke didn't move or speak. Abigail leaned in slightly, her voice softer. I saw your reaction then. Still, Luke didn't answer. She let her fingers apart, pinching his forearm briefly.
"You're not going to pretend she means nothing"
Luke moved so fast that she barely had time to process it. One second, there was no space between them. The next, his hand was on her chin, firm and unyielding. Abigail froze, her breath seizing. Their eyes met inches apart. His grip wasn't rough, but was still controlling and restrained. His thumb brushed her jaw, a slight and deliberate stroke like a warning or a question.
"You're playing a dangerous game, Abigail" he whispered, his voice rough and uneven. The way he looked at her wasn't just anger or control. It was something darker. Something that sent a shiver down her spine. "I'm just asking a question," she whispered. Luke's gaze moved lower to her parted lips, then back up. The look burned through her, stealing the air from her lungs. His grip didn't tighten or loosen, but she felt it. She felt him. You want an answer? His voice was nothing more than a whisper against her skin.
Abigail swallowed her breath unsteadily. Yes, she answered. A heartbeat was heard, then another. The world outside faded, the hum of the car, the passing city lights—nothing existed except the space between them. Luke exhaled, then he let go. The cold rushed back in where his touch had been, but the heat lingered. Abigail forced herself to breathe.
She should be relieved that he pulled away, but she wasn't because for just a second, just one breathless second, Luke had looked like he wanted to kiss her, and that terrified her more than anything.
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