By the time they finally made it to the long couch in the receiving area, Elara’s breathing had calmed. Lucas handed her a fresh glass of water, and she reached out, taking it with trembling fingers.
As the glass neared her face, a sharp, distinct scent cut through the air. Alcohol.
She paused, taking a slow sip as she subtly watched him. Now that the adrenaline of her panic was fading, she noticed the way he moved. The heavy, uncoordinated way he carried his frame—this man was absolutely drunk.
Elara slowly set the glass down on the coffee table. She turned her gaze to Lucas, who had slumped into the space right next to her, leaving only a few inches of distance between them. He threw his head back against the cushions in a lazy, uncharacteristic sprawl, his long fingers pressing heavily against his temples.
"Are you drunk, Lucas?" she asked softly.
Lucas shifted his head, looking at her through heavy, half-lidded eyes. A slow, rare smile tugged at the corner of his lips before he shook his head.
"Nope... just had a little to drink. The investors were relentless tonight. Especially Mr. Greg." He closed his eyes again, his voice dropping an octave. "He even tried to introduce his daughter to me. You met her earlier."
Elara’s chest tightened slightly, but she managed a small nod. "Yes. That girl... she’s stunning."
Lucas nodded lazily, keeping his head resting against the back of the couch.
"But you also look stunning tonight."
Silence fell over the room.
Elara froze, her heart skipping a massive beat. Did I hear that right?
Minutes began to tick by in complete, agonizing quiet. It was the most awkward silence of her entire life, yet her mind was spinning at a million miles an hour.
Finally, Lucas cracked his eyes open, breaking the spell. "Are you okay now? Have you calmed down?" He looked at her intently, waiting for her response.
Elara forced a soft smile. "Yes. Sorry about earlier, by the way. I ended up soaking your suit."
Lucas shook his head; his gaze locked onto her face. In those dark, beautiful eyes, Elara felt a familiar warmth—the kind of look that always made her feel safe, no matter how chaotic the world was.
"I’m sorry for scaring you, too," Lucas murmured, his tone shifting into something deeply sincere.
"It never crossed my mind that my absence would create that kind of fear in you."
She could see it clearly in his expression—he truly meant it.
She shook her head. "It’s okay."
"I’ve learned my lesson," Lucas continued, his slurred words carrying a soft, gentle weight. "Whenever I’m going to be coming home late, I’ll let you know. I’ll update you so it never happens again... Promise."
Elara completely blanked. Wait. What? Did he just say he’d inform her if he was coming home late? Going home late? Was the alcohol hitting her brain too, or did that sound incredibly sweet?
But then her logical brain kicked in. Wait, hold on! Why would he even say that? We don’t even share a house! There’s absolutely no need for him to say that!
Before she could short-circuit from overthinking, Lucas spoke up again, his voice pulling her out of her panic. "I guess you’re already sleepy. You're spacing out on me... let's sleep."
Elara gasped, her eyes flying wide. "Huh?!"
"Sleep," Lucas repeated slowly, looking confused by her reaction.
"It’s already one in the morning, so we better sleep."
Only then did the real meaning of his words catch up to her. Oh. Right. Sleep. In separate rooms. You’re losing your mind, Elara! Her inner voice screamed at her, her face heating up with embarrassment. Your mind is literally flying out the window tonight. Did you actually think the two of you were going to sleep in the same room?!
Fighting off her internal mortification, she let out a nervous laugh and nodded. "Right. Let's go."
They stood up from the deep couch at the same time. But the moment Lucas took his first step, his balance completely betrayed him. He swayed violently to the side, his massive frame tilting toward the floor.
Instinct took over. Elara lunged forward, her hands reaching out to catch him.
But Lucas was a large, heavily built man, and she was... not. Instead of saving him, his sheer weight dragged her right down with him, collapsing back onto the couch.
If this were a scene out of a romantic drama, they would have landed flawlessly, with one of them pinned beautifully on top of the other. But reality was much less graceful. Elara ended up completely squished beneath him, the wind knocked right out of her.
"Ouch. You are way too heavy, Lucas..." she groaned from underneath him.
"Oh! Sorry!" Lucas blurted out, his eyes widening in a sudden burst of drunken panic.
He scrambled to his feet, stepping back into the foyer. He stood there, awkwardly scratching the back of his head as he looked down at her. "I'm so sorry, Elara. Did I dent you?”
Hearing him ask if she got "dented" like a piece of sheet metal broke all her tension. Elara couldn't help but burst into a fit of laughter.
"What do you think I am, a piece of scrap metal?"
Lucas’s face relaxed into a genuine smile. "Thank you for catching me. And sorry again. I’ll... head to my room now, okay?"
He turned to leave, but within two steps, he was already swaying again, clearly forcing every ounce of his willpower just to walk in a straight line.
Elara couldn't just stand there and watch him break his nose against a wall. Sighing, she walked over and firmly grabbed his arm. She hooked his heavy arm over her shoulders, bracing herself against his weight.
"I'll help you," she said firmly, cutting off his protest before he could start. "No more 'no's."
Lucas looked down at her, his expression melting into a sleepy, lopsided grin.
"Thank you," he whispered, his voice warm and completely defenseless. "You're the best."
Elara managed to guide Lucas all the way to his bedroom door. When he pushed it open, the space inside was swallowed by complete darkness. Instinctively, she reached out, her fingers searching the wall for the light switch.
"No, it's okay," Lucas murmured, his voice heavy with alcohol.
"It’s bright enough from the light outside."
Seeing that enough light from the living area was filtering through the doorway to illuminate the room, she didn't argue. She could dimly make out where the bed was.
As they took a few slow, uncoordinated steps forward, Lucas leaned into her just a fraction more.
"Elara... you don't need to be scared," the drunken man muttered. The words slurred slightly, but they carried an intense, sudden gravity.
"As long as I’m alive, I’ll keep you safe. No one is ever going to hurt you."
Her throat tightened. "Thank you," was all she could whisper in response.
The entire bedroom smelled uniquely of him. Even with the heavy scent of alcohol mixed into his usual cologne, the fragrance felt surprisingly comforting—relaxing, even. But despite the soothing scent, her heart was hammering so violently against her ribs she was terrified he might hear it, simply from being this close to him.
"We're almost there," she whispered, her eyes tracking the dark silhouette of the mattress.
When they reached the edge of the bed, Elara braced herself to ease his massive frame onto the mattress. But it seemed Lucas had absolutely no strength left to cooperate. As she tried to guide him down, her balance failed her entirely.
She tripped, tumbling right down with him.
This time, half of her body landed squarely on top of him. Because she had twisted during the fall, she was lying face-up across his chest, her eyes widening in pure shock as she stared blankly at the ceiling.
Mortified, Elara scrambled to get up, shifting her weight and searching for a clear patch of mattress to plant her hands so she could push herself out of this incredibly awkward position. But the drunken billionaire had other plans. Still half-asleep, Lucas shifted, adjusting his position on the bed. Because she was resting on his chest, his sudden movement pulled her right along with him, keeping her back pressed firmly against his front.
Before she could protest, his large hand slid around her waist. With a sudden, effortless tug, he rolled them slightly, and Elara felt her back sink deep into the mattress.
Panic flared as she tried to assess her new position, but Lucas wasn't done adjusting. He smoothly pulled her closer, guiding her head to rest comfortably in the crook of his right arm, while his left arm wrapped securely around her waist—locking her into a full, inescapable embrace.
He leaned down slightly, his lips brushing dangerously close to her ear. "I’ll keep you safe," he whispered. His hot breath brushed against her skin, sending a violent shiver down her spine.
"Lucas?" she called out, her voice a breathless whisper. "Lucas?"
She tried calling him several times, but the only response she got was the steady, deep rhythm of his breathing. He was already out cold.
Determined to escape, Elara wiggled and squirmed, trying to break free from his grip. But every single time she tried to pull away, his hold only tightened instinctively. To make matters worse, he lazily threw his heavy leg over hers, pinning her down completely. After a few minutes of throwing everything she had into the struggle, she was utterly exhausted. Her efforts were completely useless against his sheer size.
Looking up into the shadows of the room, she let out a defeated, breathless sigh. Oh Lord... are you really permitting me to sleep right next to him tonight?
For a few long minutes, a fierce war raged inside her—her logical mind screaming at her to keep fighting, while her traitorous heart begged her to just stay put. Finally, she let her heart win.
Whatever happens tomorrow, happens, she thought, letting her eyes close as she gave up.
She stopped fighting and gently rested her head against his broad chest, right over the steady, calming beat of his heart. The moment she settled against him, she felt a sudden, profound shift. Deep within her chest, her Seal began to hum, glowing with a soft, spiritual warmth as it perfectly responded to the proximity of his. Enveloped by the intense, protective heat of his entire body wrapping around her, the lingering exhaustion of her night finally caught up to her, and Elara slowly drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.