CHAPTER 232: ONE NIGHT STAND?

–Caine–

I don’t understand. Nope. I don’t get why Damon chased that powerful woman. He might already be getting his ass handed to him for harassing her.

The boys? They’re curious as hell.

"So, he changed his type. Not silver hair now," Ike muttered, and I shot him a glare.

"Will the three of you stop doing that to Damon?" I hissed.

"It’s not good to always bring a woman that resembles his wife," David snapped, clearly annoyed. "My brother is still grieving, you pieces of shit."

Wow. I didn’t expect David to explode like that.

My eyes wandered—and froze—on the sexiest woman alive. My jaw dropped as she approached us. She reached out, lifted my chin back up.

"Whoa!" The boys gawked as Deanne sat on my lap like she owned me.

David instantly removed his coat and draped it over her lap. I held the coat firmly, protecting what was mine—her exposed sexiness.

She leaned close, lips brushing my ear.

"Who’s this chick?" the trio wondered.

"Damon was taken by a powerful woman to her bed," she whispered. "Leave him be."

"Ohhh," I nodded slowly. "So... it’s okay for him to get laid?" I asked, rubbing her thigh discreetly under the coat.

"Yes, I guess," she sighed. "I just got out of a meeting."

I glared at the trio drooling over my fiancée.

"Boys, this is my fiancée, Deanne," I introduced casually. Deanne turned to them, giving them a once-over.

"Oh, the idiotic trio," she chuckled darkly. "You actually brought someone who resembles Livana."

She stood up and handed the jacket back to David. "You better stop doing that."

Then she approached the woman.

"Change your style—and that hair—if you want your head to remain attached."

I shivered at her tone. So did the boys.

The woman stood up immediately.

"It’s not our Empire," Deanne told Jordan, Ike, and Aaron. "You three need to be careful whenever you present a woman in front of Damon."

"Y-yes, Ma’am," they muttered.

They were absolutely intimidated.

"I’m leaving," Kai said, standing up. I followed.

"David?"

"Yeah, we’re leaving." David stood as well. I followed.

Deanne took my hand and led me somewhere.

"You have bodyguards," I noted, spotting the female guards surrounding her.

"I do. This club is under our Empire—it’s safe for us. But there are a lot of powerful people here."

I removed my coat and draped it over her bare shoulder. My hand went straight to the small of her back as I followed her.

"And the woman?"

"I don’t know her personally," Deanne shrugged. "Maybe Damon needs to let off some steam with someone."

"Hmm, someone different. Well, as long as Damon is safe and happy. It’s been a year since his wife, anyway."

"Hmm," Deanne nodded as we reached the elevator. Then finally to the hotel room. Kai and David had already disappeared somewhere.

To our suite—once her bodyguards exited—Deanne walked in. A tray of snacks sat on the table already.

She turned the lights on and casually bent over the bed like a cat in heat.

"Are you tired, my love?" I murmured, cornering her from behind and kissing her bare shoulder.

"Hmm," she purred, rubbing her body against mine.

"As you wish, my beloved," I kissed her temple.

"Caine."

"Yes, my love."

"Do you love me?"

I grinned, lifted her chin, and tilted her toward me before sealing her lips with mine.

"I love you... so much. So, so much."

"Then make love to me all night."

"Yes. I’ll do that."

–Livana–

My husband was extra rough. Not the usual lust-driven rough — but the roughness of a man who’d lost his sanity and finally found life again. And I let him. I craved him. I’d been starving for his touch for a year and tonight I wanted him to consume me whole.

I didn’t stop him. Not once.

His obsessive, possessive way of claiming me was exactly what my heart had been begging for in silence. He didn’t ruin me — he worshipped me. He clung to me like I was his only remaining reason to breathe. Because I was.

I tested boundaries he’d never crossed before — allowed him to tie my wrists, allowed him to cage me with his body. He was terrified of losing me again; and this was the only way he knew to reassure himself.

"I just need to pee," I murmured when I finally freed myself from the restraint.

He immediately sat up, naked, eyes locked on me as though if I disappeared from sight for even a second, I might vanish.

I shut the bathroom door on his face.

He tried it once, nearly followed me in.

No privacy. Not for me anymore.

And honestly... I deserved it.

I washed myself, dried off, then opened the door — and there he was, silent, naked, waiting. Like a hound afraid his owner would slip through his fingers.

I took his hand and led him back to bed, turned off most of the lights. Only a soft glowing warmth remained, wrapping us in that familiar intimacy we once had.

"Lay down," I whispered. He obeyed instantly.

I intertwined my fingers with his and looked directly into those broken, desperate eyes.

"What you held a year ago... was my clone," I whispered.

A tremor flickered through his eyes.

"I know you remember all those people after us."

He nodded slowly.

"They’re after the device my mother and the Lancasters developed. That attack — the one that hurt only Logan — bought us time. We sent everything to the country, exposed all of their crimes, forced them into a crisis. The agents pulled out the moment they confirmed the body was me."

I saw it in his eyes — understanding, but also pain. And terror.

He wasn’t angry. He wasn’t furious.

He was hurt.

"Through my Will and Testament," I continued, my voice trembling, "I gave you a specific envelope. You haven’t opened it."

His brows furrowed. "What’s in it?"

"A house. A small two-story house with five rooms. I was there every day... waiting for you and our little Sky."

His body froze — completely.

"Damn it," he whispered. "That’s why they kept telling me to open it."

I smacked his chest. The emotion I’d been burying finally cracked open.

He wasn’t the only one who suffered.

I trembled and tears burned down my cheeks.

"Jane—" my voice broke "—Jane always brought Sky so I could feed him. So he’d stop crying at night."

His thumb caught my tears, but more followed, heavy and uncontrollable.

"That’s where I hid. I couldn’t be alive publicly or they’d go after everyone. They were after Alyssa just a week before I—"

"I’m sorry. I didn’t know." He kissed my tears, tasted my pain.

"I should be the one apologizing," I sobbed. "I deceived you. I destroyed you."

But he just pulled me tighter, our naked bodies pressed together, like he needed to make sure I was warm, solid, breathing.

"I can’t be angry at you," he whispered.

His voice cracked.

I felt his own tears fall on my cheek.

"You should drink water," I whispered, more to distract myself than him.

He slipped off the bed clumsily — exhausted but still alert — gulped water, handed it to me, then fell right back into my arms, clinging to me like I was his lifeline.

Because I was.

"So... Lore," he murmured, trying to breathe normally.

"Lore and I have an agreement," I explained softly. "That boy hasn’t even lived a normal life. He wasn’t out there. He was born to be a control."

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"He didn’t have real school. He didn’t have friends. He’s a genius raised in hidden walls. He’s here now to adapt to humanity, to live."

I stroked his chest — so much thinner than before.

I swallowed thickly.

"You’ll eat more, okay?"

"I will," he promised, kissing my forehead.

I touched his hairy chin and sighed.

"Well, that’s got to go."

He laughed softly and I straddled his waist.

He pinned me beneath him again, lowering his head between my legs.

Of course he did.

My pleasure always first.

We made love again — slower, gentler — until exhaustion drowned us.

Later, I shaved his beard and mustache, smiling at the thought of Sky’s confused stare.

"Sleep now," I murmured.

"I won’t sleep," he muttered stubbornly.

But he did. Finally.

And when he did, I slipped off quietly, washed up, and began dyeing my hair.

"Livana!"

His voice cracked like he was breaking again.

He stood at the bathroom doorway, panicked, tears falling.

I put everything down and immediately held his face.

"What’s wrong?" I whispered — even though I already knew.

He kissed me — desperate, scared, relieved.

"I’m here," I whispered against his lips.

He buried his face into my chest and I held him tightly, my hands gentle, soothing.

I wiped his tears and nodded to the dye.

"Help me."

He helped carefully, as though touching something fragile.

He combed through my hair, checked my scalp, perfected the disguise.

"Your tattoo is gone," he murmured.

"My outfit covers my nape," I reassured him.

"Boss!" Deanne yelled from outside. "Food’s here! We still got an hour!"

"Got it!" I called.

"The room is a disaster," Deanne huffed. "I’m not touching anything."

I laughed breathlessly.

My husband was still behind me — still naked.

I nudged him gently.

"Put some clothes on."

He didn’t move.

I took his hand and led him to the bedroom.

"Just wear last night’s clothes. That messy look suits you."

He slipped on his boxers and pants without a word.

"Wash your hands, my love," I murmured as I set the table.

He obeyed.

And for the first time in a year...

I felt whole again.