Chapter 187

The evening air was thick with tension as Lillian stood at the edge of the forest, her fingers trembling around the crumpled letter in her hand. The scent of pine and damp earth filled her lungs, but all she could focus on were the words scrawled in Donovan’s messy handwriting.

Meet me at midnight. We need to talk.

Her heart pounded against her ribs. After everything—the betrayal, the humiliation, the way he had discarded her for Evelyn—why now? Why here?

A twig snapped behind her, and Lillian whirled around, her golden eyes flashing in the moonlight.

Sebastian Blackwood stepped out of the shadows, his broad shoulders tense, his silver gaze locked onto hers. "You shouldn’t be out here alone," he murmured, his voice low and rough.

Lillian swallowed hard. "I can take care of myself."

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. "Not when Donovan’s involved."

She flinched at the name. "What do you know?"

Instead of answering, Sebastian closed the distance between them, his fingers brushing against the letter in her hand. "He’s playing games, Lillian. And you’re walking right into his trap."

Her breath hitched. "Then what do you suggest I do?"

Sebastian’s grip tightened around her wrist, his touch searing. "You let me handle it."

A gust of wind rustled the leaves overhead, carrying with it the faintest whisper of Donovan’s scent. Lillian’s pulse spiked.

He was close.

Too close.

And as Sebastian’s grip turned possessive, his lips brushing against her ear, she realized—

This wasn’t just about Donovan anymore.

This was war.

I bit the inside of my cheek before nodding reluctantly. Well, that answered my question—this was nothing more than sex. Sebastian had made that abundantly clear. Deep down, I already knew, but hearing it confirmed still twisted something sharp in my chest. A foolish part of me had hoped, against all logic, that maybe he felt something more. But no. I was just deluding myself.

"There you go, Beautiful," Lucien murmured, snapping me out of my thoughts as he slid a plate of food toward me.

"Coffee," Sebastian demanded, his jaw tight.

Lucien nodded, placing a plate in front of him before turning to fetch the coffee. Sebastian’s gaze tracked his every move, the tension in the room thickening inexplicably. It was bizarre—Sebastian had no right to act this way.

When Lucien returned with two steaming mugs, filling them to the brim, Sebastian dismissed him with a curt wave. To his credit, Lucien didn’t argue. We ate in silence, and when we finished, the kitchen staff cleared the dishes.

"I'll take you to school," Sebastian announced, grabbing his coat from the hook.

"Frederick can drive me," I countered.

"Just come," he muttered, seizing my wrist and pulling me toward the door.

"Careful, Alpha Blackwood," I teased, unable to resist. "People might start thinking you actually like me if you keep acting so possessive." He didn’t respond, just shook his head in exasperation. I smirked as I slid into the car.

The drive was mostly quiet, save for a few brief exchanges. He mentioned Frederick would pick me up later and bring me back to the villa.

Now that Beatrice knew almost everything, I finally had someone to confide in. Before class, I spilled my confusion—how Sebastian swung between icy detachment one moment and possessive intensity the next. One minute, he acted like our arrangement meant nothing; the next, he was glaring daggers at any man who so much as glanced my way.

"I can't believe you're actually sleeping with him," Beatrice laughed, shaking her head. "Maybe he's just as confused as you are."

I mulled that over for the rest of the day before deciding to let it go—for now.

True to his word, Frederick arrived to take me back to the villa. What I wasn’t expecting was Victoria blocking my path to the parlor, arms crossed, her expression smug.

"You can't go in there today," she announced. "My father is busy with the film crew."

"Oh, I didn’t realize they were using the parlor," I said, checking the time. "Is Oliver somewhere else?"

"Maybe in his room?" she mused, then pushed the door open just enough for me to see inside.

My stomach dropped.

Sebastian sat on the couch, and beside him—close, too close—was Celeste Devereaux. She was even more stunning in person than in magazines, her fingers curled around his arm as she laughed at something someone said.

The sight of them together sent a sharp, acidic rush through my veins.

"Don’t they make a perfect couple?" Victoria purred.