From Deadbeat To Doting; Something Is Wrong With My Husband!-Chapter 51: Ten Days

Brianna closed her eyes. She had spent years surviving the cold version of Lucian to protect herself. Now, his sudden heat was literally melting her defenses!

The messy moment on a counter left her paralyzed.

Lucian’s thumb didn’t stop its upward climb under her shirt; instead, he pressed harder, a silent command for her to be still. He hadn’t even turned to the door, his focus was entirely, obsessively on the pulse jumping in her throat.

Leaning in, his lips brushed the lobe of her ear.

"Tell her to go away. That you’re busy."

Brianna managed to hold his stare now. She could only interpret that Lucian was daring her to admit what they were doing in the dark. Basically demanding she claim him as her husband in front of the Matriarch’s assistant’s eyes and ears.

"Mrs. Colburn? Why is it so dark?"

Candice Ye’s voice was right at the threshold, making Brianna’s eyes snapped away from Lucian. She looked at the door, then back at Lucian’s face. His eyes were hooded, he seemed to be waiting, despite looking like he was going to fall down.

"I—" Brianna’s voice failed her when she felt his thumb move a fraction of an inch higher, ghosting over the lace of her bra, a physical threat and a promise all at once.

"Yes," she finally managed to choke out, her fingers digging into his shoulders as she tried to find the strength to do what he asked—or the strength to push him away.

"Mrs. Colburn?"

"I’m... I’m here."

But the "Yes" came out as a disaster when Lucian used his tongue to trace what she had been trying to hide, dragging across the peak of her chest through the fabric.

In as much as she told herself she hated every bit of... this, she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back.

Suppressing the moan forming in her throat, she clamped a weak hand over her mouth. She knew if he continued like this, she was making herself accessible to someone she hates. Not failing to remind herself this was just an effect of the concussion.

So, she tried pushing him off one more time, though her strength had completely drained out. But he seemed to fight back when he bit her nipple.

"The lights..." she gasped, her voice trembling with a wildfire she couldn’t extinguish. "Secretary Ye... please... the lights..."

Click.

The kitchen lights flashed to life like an explosion of white.

"Ugh—!"

Was the sound Lucian made; a reflection of the pain he was in. Recoiling, he fell away from her, clutching his head as he staggered back towards the center of the kitchen.

Finally having him off her made Brianna slump on the counter. She didn’t even notice that her hair looked a mess and her clothes manhandled because she was still trying to find her breath from the pressure of his presence.

Candice Ye stood by the switch with her mouth hanging open. Her eyes moved from President Lucian staggering back to Brianna still sitting on the counter with a clear tell-tale red mark on her collarbone.

The realization hit Candice like a bucket of ice water. Her face went from pale to a burning crimson!

Stammering, Candice dropped her gaze instantly on the floor. "I—! I am so sorry! I didn’t—"

With that said, she spun around, turning her back to them with military speed. "I apologize, President Lucian! Mrs. Colburn! I thought... the kitchen was empty!"

She was shaking. In the Colburn world, seeing the President’s private vulnerability was a career-ending mistake.

"Why are you still here, Secretary Ye?" Brianna had began covering herself, weakly.

"Oh! Senior Mrs. Colburn... she sent a gift," Candice rushed out.

Still turning, Candice reached out blindly and set the velvet box on the floor just inside the doorway. "I’ll leave it here. Please... excuse me."

The sound of Candice’s heels retreating down the hallway left behind a silence that was even heavier than the darkness had been.

Brianna sat on the counter, waiting until the footsteps had faded. The light in the kitchen made the messiness of the situation feel raw.

She felt a deep wave of embarrassment when she felt her hands still shaking at her sides. Brianna looked at the door, then at the man beside her.

He was still leaning against the counter with his head bowed, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps. Even in his pain, he looked dangerous.

In that moment, all she could think about was how to find her strength and get out. Before he recovered and decided to pin her to the floor again.

Shifting, she slide off the counter. But the moment her feet hit the tile, a white-hot spike of agony shot up her leg. Her injured ankle which had been forgotten in the heat of his touch, screamed in protest.

"Ah!" She stumbled, almost collapsing on Lucian on the floor. And before she could stand uprightly, a large and fever-hot hand gripped her slender wrist.

Lucian hadn’t even looked up, but his instinct was faster than her pain. He pulled her back toward him, burying his face into the soft fabric of her shirt, right between her ribs.

"Lucian, let go." She whispered, trying to gather herself, but his weight was immense, and his forehead pressed further into her as he sought relief from the light and the pain in her scent.

"The lights..." he groaned, the sound vibrating against her skin.

She looked down at the top of his bandaged head, feeling annoyed. With a surge of adrenaline, Brianna gritted her teeth against the pain in her ankle. She pried his hand off her wrist, though it took every ounce of her strength, but shoved him back just enough to gain a step.

Limping heavily, she rushed toward the door and reached for the switch.

Click.

The kitchen was taken back into darkness. But she didn’t wait to hear him move by the time she pushed through the door, and reach her bedroom.

But the moment she was in, she clicked the lock and finally allowed herself breath.

Brianna leaned her back against the wood, sliding down until she hit the floor with her hands over her face.

...

Ten days.

Brianna had spent 240 hours in a condominium she owned across the city. Far from the suffocating scent of oud and Lucian’s hands on her skin.

She had told herself she moved out to "monitor her own recovery," but the truth was simpler: she was terrified of the woman she became when Lucian looked at her like a predator.

She had to run away from the villa because she was scared of him and couldn’t be "handled" by a man she despised. Not again.

But Annie’s message that evening had been the tether that pulled her back: [Mrs. Colburn, the President’s fever has broken. He is back to his usual self.]

Upon reading that, Brianna finally allowed herself to go back to the villa.

It was already nighttime when Brianna entered the villa. The house somehow felt different; silent, darker, and colder. Making her nervous since it was hard to know what to expect.

But she had been getting information from Annie. Texting more frequently than usual, since Annie always texted first and always asking where exactly she was. Though Brianna found it weird and suspicious, so she went under the cover of ’some hotel across the city.’

"Damnit!" Brianna whispered when her feet collided with the leg of the table.

Grabbing her foot, she forced herself to limp across the foyer, but not before hearing the sound of silverware against porcelain from the dining room.

’Lucian was having dinner.’

Her heart did a traitorous somersault. Though she kept her gaze fixed on the grand staircase, gripping the railing as she moved with the stealth of a thief!

’Just get to the room and lock the door.’

But when Brianna reached the top of the staircase, her breath held tight. She paused, leaning her head just enough to peep toward the dining hall below. And when she continued hearing the sound, she confirmed he was occupied.

Turning to make a dash for her room, she slammed into a wall of solid suit and heat.

"Ah!"

Stumbling backwards, her heart jumped, but her hands reflexively reached out to steady herself against a broad chest.

The scent hit her first: oud and something cold.

When she looked up, she met Lucian’s indifferent stare.

He looked like his usual self; the "Cold President" of the city’s skyline, not the drugged predator from the kitchen. The bandages were gone, replaced by a meticulously styled head of dark hair.

He was staring down at her, his brow furrowed in a deep, judgmental frown.

The same frown from before the fall.

Brianna stared back, searching what the stare meant. Was he in there? The man who had lifted her onto the counter? The man who had bitten her neck?... Or the man she attempted to kill?