The silver tray felt like a lead weight in my hands as I pushed through the swinging kitchen door. The transition from the dim, spice-scented kitchen to the golden, suffocating luxury of the living room made my head spin. The chandelier hung above like a crown of thorns, casting sharp, glittering light over a scene that was designed to destroy me.
"The tea is served," I whispered. My voice sounded thin, like a ghost's, barely audible over the crackle of the fireplace.
Alex's mother didn't even look at me. She was busy adjusting a silk pillow, her face glowing with the pride of a woman who had just secured her son's future. "Set it down here, Luna. Carefully. And then you may go to your room. We have much to discuss with our guest—family matters that don't require an audience."
I moved toward the mahogany coffee table, my hands shaking so violently the china cups rattled against each other. Clink. Clink. Clink. It sounded like a funeral bell. I set the tray down, my eyes burning with a heat that had nothing to do with the steam from the teapot.
But then, my gaze betrayed me. I looked toward the floor-to-ceiling glass doors leading to the balcony.
The night was screaming. A storm had rolled in over the city, and the rain was hammering against the glass in heavy, rhythmic sheets. The city lights below were nothing but blurred streaks of neon red and cold blue. And there, silhouetted against the dark, stormy sky, were Alex and Elena.
They looked like a portrait of the perfect couple. Elena was leaning against the wrought-iron railing, the deep red silk of her dress clinging to her curves like a second skin. The wind caught a stray lock of her hair, and she laughed—a melodic, confident sound that pierced through the glass and stabbed me right in the heart. She looked like she belonged there. She looked like she owned the air Alex breathed.
I stayed frozen by the tea set, my fingers still clutching the edge of the tray. I watched as Elena reached out, her pale fingers grazing the dark wool of Alex's suit lapel. She moved closer, her body language bold and inviting. She said something, her lips moving close to his ear, and then she leaned into his chest, her hand sliding up to the back of his neck.
I watched in slow motion as she stood on her tiptoes. She was pulling him down, her eyes closing as she leaned in to claim his lips.
My heart didn't just break; it felt like it was being ground into the floorboards. I didn't stay to see if his arms wrapped around her. I didn't stay to see the kiss finish. I turned and fled. I ran past the mother, past the golden light, and into the dark hallway. I slammed my bedroom door and fell onto the bed, the white apron I was wearing feeling like a shroud. I buried my face in the pillow, my sobs muffled by the sound of the rain, feeling like the smallest, most disposable girl in the world.
The house went silent an hour later. I lay in the dark, my eyes red and swollen, listening to the muffled sounds of the apartment settling. I heard the front door open and close—Elena was finally gone. I heard the low murmur of Alex's voice talking to his mother, and then the final, heavy thud of her bedroom door.
The apartment was a tomb of secrets. I sat up, staring at the sliver of moonlight on the floor. I expected to be alone. I expected to spend the night wondering if he had liked her kiss.
Click.
The sound was so soft, yet it echoed like a thunderclap in the silent room. My door opened, and a tall, shadow-drenched figure slipped inside. The air in the room changed instantly, turning thick and electric. I could smell him before I could see him—sandalwood, rain, and a dark, heavy tension.
"Luna," he said. It wasn't a question. It was a command.
"Go away, Alex," I whispered, my voice raw from crying. "Go back to your bride. I saw you on the balcony. I saw her touch you. I saw her kiss you."
In three long strides, he was across the room. He didn't say a word as he grabbed my wrists and hauled me off the bed, pinning me against the cold plaster wall. He was still in his suit, but he had ripped off his tie, and his white shirt was unbuttoned at the throat, revealing the frantic pulse in his neck. He looked like a man who had been pushed to the very edge of his sanity.
"She tried," he hissed, his face dropping until his forehead was resting against mine. His breath was hot on my skin, smelling of the wine they had shared. "She tried to kiss me, Luna. And I pushed her back so hard she almost fell. I don't want her. I don't want her red dress, her family name, or her perfect life. I want the girl who was hiding in the kitchen. I want the girl who makes me want to burn my own life down just to keep her."
He let go of my wrists only to cup my face in his large, trembling hands. He looked at me with a primal, hungry desperation that made my blood turn to liquid fire.
"I am claiming you tonight," he whispered, his voice a low, dangerous vibration. "No more secrets. No more 'Professor' masks. No more 'Good Girl' aprons. I am tired of playing the part while my heart is dying in this room. You are mine. My body, my soul, my heart... it all belongs to you. And I am going to make sure that by the time the sun rises, you never doubt that again."
He leaned down, his lips crushing against mine in a kiss that wasn't a promise anymore—it was a declaration of war. It was a hard, possessive kiss that tasted of salt and hidden fire. He pulled me closer, his hands sliding down to my waist, lifting me until my feet left the floor and I was forced to wrap my legs around his hips.
"I don't like Elena," he murmured against my mouth, his teeth grazing my bottom lip. "I don't like any other girl. When I was standing on that balcony, I wasn't looking at her. I was looking at your reflection in the glass. I was counting the seconds until I could get back to you."
He carried me back to the bed, his heavy weight pressing me into the mattress. He looked down at me, his grey eyes turned completely black with a possessive need I had never seen before.
"Tonight, Luna, there is no mother. There is no Elena. There is only us. And I am going to show you exactly how much you belong to me."
The rain outside hammered against the glass like it was trying to break in, but inside the room, the only sound was the heat of our breathing and the final collapse of every boundary we had ever tried to keep. He wasn't just my professor anymore. He was my world. And I was finally home.