FIRST MEET
Hours after the doctor had treated Genevieve's wounds, Lucas emerged from the shower, his muscular frame glistening beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. His wet hair plastered to his head, water dripping down his chiseled chest. His body was cold, but his thoughts were solely on Genevieve.
Genevieve lay on the bed, unconscious but carefully tended to. A small bandage covered the wound on her forehead, and a blanket was tucked over her up to her chest. The room was warm, the chill from the snowy morning outside shut out completely. Every shallow rise and fall of her chest made his heart tighten.
Lucas knelt beside the bed, lowering himself so his eyes were level with her sleeping form.
His fingers hovered over her hair before brushing it gently, gliding down to trace the curve of her forehead, along her nose, and finally resting lightly
against her lips. He lingered there, fingers tracing the delicate contours as if memorizing every detail.
He kept staring at her face, his expression dark yet strangely peaceful. The tension that had been gripping his chest all night seemed to ease as his gaze roamed over her features. “Geni,” he whispered, voice husky and low, “I love you so much.”
The fingertips resting against her cheek slid gently up to her ear, tucking a loose strand of hair behind it. For a brief moment, his expression softened
but then something flickered in his eyes, something that broke through the thin veil of control he was trying to maintain. His composure began to slip, bit by bit, until the restraint holding him together gave way.
He leaned forward, his breath warm against her skin as his lips pressed gently to her forehead. Then another kiss followed, softer, on her closed
eyelids. His lips trailed down to her cheek, soft and trembling, until they hovered dangerously close to her lips. His entire body was taut, as though every muscle fought the urge to surrender completely.
But he lost that battle.
The kiss started out soft, feather-light, barely a touch. His lips brushed against hers tenderly, testing the waters, feeling the warmth of her breath against his mouth. But soon, the gentleness dissolved. His hand slid to her
throat, his long fingers curling possessively around her slender neck to hold her still. His lips moved with growing urgency, deepening the kiss, claiming what he had been denied for far too long.
“Mmh…” Genevieve’s soft moan escaped her as she stirred faintly in her sleep.
Her fingers clenched the edge of the blanket, her body shifting slightly, her brows knitting into a faint line as though caught in a dream she couldn’t
escape.
Lucas lips parted hers, capturing her lower lip between his, sucking it hungrily, his breath mingling with hers in the dim light. Tears slipped from the corners of his eyes, tracing slow, helpless lines down his cheeks.
‘You made me wait for an eternity to have you,’ the thought burned through his mind, raw and aching.
He brushed his tongue across her lips, his mouth claiming hers in a hungry, desperate need. His hand at her throat kept her still, trapped beneath the weight of his desire as he devoured her lips with feverish urgency. But as his hunger grew rougher, his control began to slip.
That's when her fingers twitched, her body shifting beneath him. He froze instantly. She was waking.
In an instant, Lucas tore himself away. He stood abruptly, turning his back to her, jaw clenched as he swiped the tears roughly from his face.
Genevieve stirred, gasping softly as her eyes fluttered open, her breathing uneven.
Her gaze darted around the unfamiliar room.
Panic flared when she noticed a man standing by the window, broad shoulders, tall frame, back straight as if carved from stone. Snow drifted
outside the glass, painting the world white and silent.
“Where… am I?” she thought, heart pounding in confusion.Just then, the door opened, and Allen stepped in. He froze briefly, glancing between Lucas' back and Genevieve's alarmed face.
“Miss Brooks,” he began calmly, his tone polite but reassuring, “you fainted on the street in front of our car last night. I was driving Mr. Blackwood
home when we saw you. He recognized you since he’d met your father a few times through business and remembered seeing you at parties.” Allen
lied smoothly. “Since we didn’t know where you lived, Mr. Blackwood decided to bring you here, to his home, for your safety.”
Genevieve's eyes widened slightly. She looked from Allen to Lucas back again, confusion and unease flickering in her gaze. Her voice trembled
faintly. “That’s it? Nothing else happened while I was unconscious?”
“Of course not,” Allen assured, his tone steady.
Genevieve's fingers tightened around the blanket as she tried to process everything. ‘Mr. Blackwell?’
She had heard plenty of rumors about the Blackwell brothers, each more terrifying than the last. Their company was a powerhouse in the business world, but she had only ever seen them in photos from high-profile events. Her dad had mentioned them many times, though he never said he knew any of them personally.
Then the man’s back turned toward her, and her breath caught.
Lucas Blackwell.
He looked even more formidable in person. Taller, broader. Handsome.
Clean. So clean His gaze alone was making the air feel heavy.
Her hands fisted in the blanket, her knees pulling closer to her chest.
‘Everyone says he is the most strict of them all. Even the women who tried to get close to him were thrown out and punished for it. How did I end up flat on my face right in front of his car?!”
She swallowed hard, panic crawling up her spine. ‘I shouldn’t get in his way… he might punish me too.’She tilted her head slightly, trying to get a better look at the man. Her mind raced, trying to place him, a strange sense of familiarity tugging at her memory. ‘Why does he look so familiar?’ she wondered. Lost in thought,
she didn’t notice him moving closer.
He stopped right in front of her, his presence filling the small space, and looked down at her with piercing eyes. “Miss Brooks, what are you
thinking about?”
Startled, she scrambled backward on the bed, pressing herself against the headboard. Her pulse raced as panic spread across her face.
But what met her eyes wasn’t the anger, the wrath, or the cruel expression she had imagined. Instead, he was staring at her with a faint, almost gentle smile. His gaze, though intense, carried softness, an unexpected kindness.that made her chest tighten.
“I…..I’m sorry, Mr. Blackwell,” she stammered, her voice trembling slightly but polite. “I didn’t mean to trouble you last night. I won’t cause any more problems. I’ll leave your house right now.” She pushed the covers back and attempted to swing her legs over the side of the bed, her fingers gripping the edge tensely.
Before her feet could touch the floor, Lucas moved with fluid precision.
In an instant, he dropped to his knees in front of her. Her bare feet landed on his thighs instead of the
floor, and a jolt of surprise ran through her.
She froze, her wide eyes locking onto his.
Now that he was so close, her heart pounded violently. His face was mere inches from hers striking, sculpted like chiseled glass. But his eyes were different: gentle, soft, and mesmerizingly attractive. A small, enigmatic smile curved his lips.
“Where are you going to go, Miss Brooks?” he asked.
Genevieve's fingers clutched the blankets, knuckles white, her head lowered.
‘Yeah, where am I going to go?’ The thought echoed in her mind, twisting her stomach into tight knots. Panic, uncertainty, and exhaustion all collided within her, leaving her trembling slightly on the edge of the bed.
Lucas watched her silently, reading every nuance of her expression. His dark eyes softened, the cold edge fading.