Chapter 223

Serena's POV

I needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere, so I slipped out into the private garden. The real reason wasn't just the endless small talk - my ankle was killing me. I'd twisted it earlier while navigating the steps during the red carpet walk. What had seemed like a minor nuisance then had become impossible to ignore after hours of socializing.

Finding a quiet spot near an illuminated fountain, I sank onto one of the limestone benches and carefully removed my heels. The spring air was crisp against my bare feet, and I could hear distant taxi horns mixing with the string quartet playing inside.

Just as I was about to massage my throbbing ankle, a shadow fell across the garden lights. My stomach did that familiar flip - even before looking up, I knew it was Lucas.

I glanced up at Lucas Harrington, his tall frame blocking out the warm garden lighting. His tuxedo was impeccable as always, but there was tension in his jaw that his carefully neutral expression couldn't hide. I looked away, focusing instead on my ankle. That's when his hands - steady and warm despite the cool evening - reached down and lifted my foot.

"Back off, Lucas," I said, my tone irritated.

He ignored me with that trademark Harrington intensity, his fingers finding the tender spots around my ankle with uncomfortable accuracy. I fought back a grimace.

Everyone knows he's engaged to Rachel, so why does he keep pursuing me? He's being completely selfish - making me look like the other woman while everyone judges me. Why should I have to deal with being labeled a homewrecker because of his actions?

"This might sting," he warned, his voice carrying soft drawl that only emerged when he was focused.

Before I could retort, "Jesus!" The exclamation escaped as he manipulated my ankle with the precision of someone obviously familiar with sports injuries. The sudden pain almost made me kick him square in his face.

"What the hell are you doing?" I snapped, my carefully maintained composure finally cracking.

"Stand up," he said calmly. He slipped my shoe back on with surprising gentleness.

I shot him a irritated glare, but something in his expression - familiar warm smile and damn handsome - made me comply. Rising cautiously, balancing on five-inch heels and a tender ankle, I felt myself sway slightly.

Lucas steadied me, his hand warm through the silk of my evening gown. It was barely a touch, but before I could step away, he pulled me against him.

I never imagined this would happen. At the Thorne charity gala, when he pulled me close, everything came rushing back - his familiar cologne, the feel of his strong and worm embrace - it all hit me at once, overwhelming my senses. That deep, irresistible feeling I thought I'd buried came flooding back, and I couldn't fight it.

The embrace was becoming more and more overwhelming. I pushed against his chest, my hands hitting the fine wool of his suit. "Let go, Lucas. I mean it!"

He buried his face in my neck. His arms formed an unyielding circle around me, protective and possessive in a way that made my pulse race.

"Can't breathe," I managed to gasp, genuinely struggling for air. My face felt hot, and I was acutely aware of how this would look if any of meida photographers happened to wander into the garden. But Lucas only held me tighter, as if I might disappear into the night the moment he loosened his grip.

My heart was racing, and I couldn't tell anymore if it was from anger, fear, or... something else entirely. Something that made me want to both push him away and pull him closers.

Lucas's POV

I held her like a drowning man clinging to a lifeline, deaf to everything around us. My arms tightened with each passing second. I could feel Serena's face burning hot, her breathing becoming shallow, but I couldn't make myself let go. The thought of releasing her only made my grip more desperate.

"For God's sake, Lucas, she can't breathe. Let her go before she passes out." Atticus's sardonic drawl carried across the garden.

Only when I felt Serena going limp did I finally release her. She doubled over coughing, gulping in the crisp winter air. Watching her struggle for breath should have snapped me back to reality, but the storm raging inside me wouldn't subside.

"It's freezing out here. Let's head back inside." As Atticus reached for her, I intercepted, grabbing her hand possessively. He just stood there with that insufferable Thorne family smirk, which only stoked my anger further.

Serena jerked away from my grip. My fingers twitched, instinctively reaching for her again. Seeing her by Atticus's side all evening had nearly driven me insane. I've been holding back my anger all night. When I held her moments ago, it hit me like a punch to the gut - she was slipping away, and Atticus. Like a persistent shadow, he showed up yet again, ruining what should have been a peaceful moment with Serena. He just can't seem to leave us alone.

"Back off, Lucas," she snapped, every syllable sharp as broken glass.

"Don't leave with him," I growled.

Her response cut clean through my suit: "You lost all right to make demands when you got engaged to Rachel. Remember your position - you're here as the Thorne Industries' golden boy with your society bride-to-be, and I'm just another guest at their charity gala. With my date."

"Just wait for me. Please." I hated how desperate I sounded.

"Waiting for you?" She laughed bitterly. "Like you're waiting for me while playing happy couples with Rachel? Give me a break."

I watched, my stomach churning, as she deliberately wrapped her arm through Atticus's, his victory smile making my blood boil.

"Welcome to the real world, Lucas. Not everything revolves around what a Harrington wants." She turned away, heels clicking on the marble.

Something in me snapped. I grabbed her arm, murmuring, "I'm calling you a car." Fighting to keep my voice steady, I make one final request.

Atticus stepped into our path, his frame blocking the entrance.

"Move," I snarled. Atticus's provocative behavior made me snap, destroying the last shred of self-control I had left. Now all I can think about is having someone kill him and dump his body somewhere.

He didn't budge. "I don't give a damn about your history with her or what trust fund baby drama this is. Tonight, she's my guest at my family's event, and what she wants is what happens. Back. Off."