Chapter 57 - Secrets Between Sheets

The carriage ride back to the Hellgrave estate was silent. Verbena sat stiffly, her hands folded in her lap, eyes fixed on the moonlit window. Theodore sat beside her, his arm stretched along the back of the seat, fingers occasionally tapping in an impatient rhythm.

He hadn't spoken a word since they left the banquet.

She thought it was better that way—until the silence became suffocating.

The moment they stepped into the mansion, the tension snapped.

"Upstairs," Theodore said, voice low and commanding.

Verbena blinked. "What?"

"You heard me."

There was no teasing smirk, no playful sarcasm. Just quiet authority. Her heart skipped, but she obeyed, her heels clicking softly against the marble stairs. Theodore followed, his presence a storm cloud at her back.

The bedroom door closed behind them, and the silence hung thick.

"Talk," he said.

She turned to face him. His cravat was already loosened, jacket discarded on the chaise. The scar along his jaw caught the candlelight, making him look more dangerous than ever. His arms were crossed, muscles tight with restrained temper.

"There's nothing to—"

"Don't lie to me." He took a step forward. "Lucien knows something. You saw the way he spoke to you. Like he's known you for years. And you—" Another step. "You didn't deny it well enough."

Her back hit the edge of the vanity table, leaving no space to retreat. "I told you, I lost my memories."

"Did you?" His voice dipped lower. "Or did you fake that too?"

Her breath caught. "You think I've been lying about everything?"

His hand slammed down beside her, caging her in. "I think you're hiding something. And I think it's going to get both of us killed if you don't tell me."

The heat between them crackled. His nearness made her skin prickle, but it wasn't fear—it was something far more dangerous.

She swallowed hard. "What if I said… this world isn't my first?"

His brow furrowed. "What?"

"I mean, before I became Verbena Hellgrave, I was someone else. Somewhere else. I lived a completely different life, and then—" She gestured vaguely, "I woke up in this body, already married to you."

He stared at her, disbelief flickering across his face. "You expect me to believe that?"

"I don't care if you believe it," she said sharply. "But it's the truth."

His hand slid to her waist, not roughly, but firmly. "And Lucien?"

She hesitated. "He doesn't know that. But… in my past life, he came to the bakery I ran. He flirted with me sometimes, but I thought he was just being annoying. I never expected to see him in this world."

Theodore's grip tightened. "So that's why he looked at you like you were an old flame."

"I was a broke baker, not his lover," she muttered. "He's imagining things."

"Or maybe," Theodore said darkly, "he's the type who likes stealing what belongs to someone else."

There was a pause, heavy with something unsaid. Something dangerous.

"Do I… belong to you?" she asked softly.

His eyes flickered with heat. "Don't I?"

Before she could reply, his lips crashed down on hers—not soft or hesitant, but with all the frustration, jealousy, and unspoken desire tangled between them. Verbena gasped against his mouth, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt.

It wasn't the first time they kissed, but it was the first time it felt real. Not for show, not for some plan—but because they wanted to.

He lifted her effortlessly, setting her on the vanity table. The mirror rattled behind her as his hands slid up her thighs, pushing the layers of her gown aside. Her skin burned where he touched, every brush of his fingers making her shiver.

"You're mine," he growled against her neck, his teeth grazing her pulse. "No prince, no past life, no fate gets to change that."

Her heart pounded so loud she could barely think. "And what if I want to be yours?"

He froze for half a heartbeat, then his mouth claimed hers again—deeper, slower this time, like he was memorizing the taste of her. His hands traced her curves, pulling her closer until there was no space left between them.

Verbena felt her carefully built walls crumbling. She wanted this—wanted him—even if it terrified her.

"Theodore," she whispered, fingers threading into his hair. "Don't stop."

He didn't.

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End of Chapter 57