Chapter 3

Stella's POV

I woke up in the morning, the heat of Adam's touch still branding my skin like a lingering burn.

His wheelchair sat abandoned by the door, a prop in a performance growing more tangled by the minute. Every move he made radiated raw power, pulling my eyes like a damn magnet. Stop staring, Stella. He's just a stranger. I scolded myself, but my gaze wouldn't quit.

"Your skin's burning up." His voice was dark honey—smooth, dangerous, dripping into my ears. Those sharp green eyes locked on me, so intense my breath snagged. One big hand brushed my forehead, the casual intimacy spiking my pulse like a live wire. "How… inconvenient."

I couldn't pin down his tone—annoyance laced with what? Curiosity? His jaw tightened, like he was wrestling something inside himself.

I opened my mouth to reply, but my legs gave out, too weak to hold me. Strong arms caught me before I hit the floor, and suddenly I was pressed against a wall of hard muscle. His cologne flooded my senses, thick and dizzying. So much for the paralyzed act—this guy's all man.

"Does it hurt?" His breath grazed my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. One hand slid to my waist, gripping me tight, his heat searing through my nightgown and sparking jolts across my skin. "If a little fever's too much for you, Mrs. Lancaster, how're you gonna handle me in bed?"

The words were harsh, but his voice dropped to a husky whisper that set my heart racing. His hands trembled faintly, betraying the cool front he was trying to keep. My face went hot, palms flat against his chest—I could feel his heartbeat, pounding faster than his icy vibe let on. He's not as calm as he looks.

"I… I can learn," I stammered, my voice breathy and embarrassing as hell. "In bed, I… I don't mind a little pain…"

The second it slipped out, I wanted to die. Fever's fried my brain—what the hell am I saying? But something dark and ravenous flashed across his face before he could hide it. His grip on my waist tightened, thumb rubbing slow, maddening circles over my hip, and I swear I heard him suck in a sharp breath.

"Shameless," he growled, the word cutting, but that thumb kept circling, teasing my skin like he couldn't help himself. My mind spun—He's calling me out, but why's he still touching me? Pushing me away or pulling me in?—and my body melted into him, traitorously soft against his heat.

"Mr. Lancaster," I tried to claw back some dignity, even as my voice sounded like a damn purr, "I'm looking forward to your… future guidance."

Oh God, kill me now—what am I even saying? I cringed inside, but the words were out, hanging between us. His eyes dropped to my lips, and my heart stopped—Is he gonna kiss me? My head went fuzzy with pink-tinted panic, picturing his mouth crashing down, hard or soft, maybe biting, tasting me right there.

But then darkness crept in, my vision blurring. The last thing I saw before blacking out was the conflict twisting his perfect face—torn, almost pissed—and the gentle way his arms cradled me as I went limp, like he didn't want me to break.

---

I woke to the soft beeping of medical equipment. The bedroom had been replaced by an elegantly appointed guest suite, all neutral tones and discrete medical monitoring devices. My skin still tingled where Adam had touched me, the memory making me flush despite my best efforts to forget.

"The fever's breaking," someone murmured. "She'll need rest and fluids."

Rest. Right. As if I could rest with the phantom sensation of those strong hands still burning into my skin.

His eyes dropped to my lips, and for a heart-stopping moment, I thought he might... but then darkness creeping my vision again. The last thing I saw before consciousness fled was the conflicted expression that flashed across his perfect features, and the gentle way his arms cradled me as I fell.

But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

---

"Miss Winston." Adam's voice broke the silence of the manor's storage room. The barely contained fury in his tone made me stiffen. "Care to explain this?"

I turned from where I'd been examining my items, only to freeze at the sight of what he held. The rage in his eyes was at odds with the deadly calm of his stance, and something in my chest tightened painfully at the disgust written across his features.

Photos – dozens of them – showing me in various intimate poses with him. Except I'd never taken those photos. The girl in them wore my face, but the body language was all wrong.

My stomach churned as understanding dawned. Lucy put them. Of course. My dear sister's parting gift.

"These were found among your belongings." He tossed the photos at my feet, followed by what appeared to be love letters and... other items I couldn't bring myself to look at directly. His tall frame caged me against the storage shelves, that intoxicating scent of his filling my lungs again. Despite his obvious anger, the air between us crackled with something dangerous and electric.

"Tell me, were you so desperate to climb into my bed that you had to resort to such disgusting tactics?"

The venom in his voice stung, but it was the flash of betrayal in his eyes that truly hurt. Somehow, in the span of a morning, I'd managed to make him feel something beyond mere indifference - even if that something was hatred.

"Mr. Lancaster," I kept my voice steady through sheer force of will, trying to ignore how my body responded to his proximity, "I had no knowledge of these items before this moment."

I met his gaze directly, letting him see the truth in my eyes. For a moment, something shifted in his expression - doubt? Interest? - before the mask of cold disdain slammed back into place.

His laugh held no humor, but the sound still sent shivers down my spine. "Bringing another man's keepsakes to our marriage. Impressive, Miss Winston."

The pieces clicked together in my still-recovering brain. Lucy hadn't just set me up to take her place – she'd made sure to poison the well completely.

"Don't think that simply walking through those doors makes you secure in your position as Mrs. Lancaster." He leaned closer, one hand braced beside my head. "Many women would kill to be in your place."

I watched him leave, my hands clenched into fists, my heart racing from more than just anger.  Lucy. I will make you pay.

In the doorway, Adam paused. "You know what your greatest flaw is, Miss Winston?" His eyes raked over me one last time, leaving trails of fire in their wake. "You're utterly uninteresting."

The door closed behind him with a quiet click that somehow hurt more than if he'd slammed it.

Uninteresting, am I? A smile curved my lips despite everything.  We'll see about that, Adam.