Chapter 822

"How exactly do you intend to verify this?" Lucian inquired, his voice laced with skepticism.

Rosalind's gaze traveled downward from his sculpted torso, lingering hesitantly before she stammered, "Would you... remove your trousers?"

Lucian's eyes darkened instantly, the intensity in them making her pulse race.

Was it the audacity of her request or the terrifying possibility that Lucian might truly be Everett that made her heart hammer against her ribs?

"The man I knew... had a distinctive birthmark there. I need to see it."

Lucian's throat worked as he swallowed. "And if I refuse? I'm not inclined to undress for you."

No—she couldn't back down now. She had to know the truth.

Rosalind stepped closer, desperation bleeding into her voice. "Please. Just one look."

When Lucian turned to leave, she darted in front of him, blocking his path. "If you won't do it yourself, then I'll—"

Her fingers closed around the sleek, expensive belt at his waist, the cool leather foreign against her skin. "Don't hate me for this."

She fumbled with the intricate buckle, her hands trembling.

Three years ago, Everett had never worn belts. The weight of this one felt alien, a stark reminder that even if this man was Everett, he wasn't the same person anymore.

He had risen to power in the corporate world.

Was his refusal to acknowledge his past because he no longer cared for her?

Her inexperience betrayed her—no matter how hard she tugged, the belt wouldn't yield.

Lucian observed her struggle with an unreadable expression. "Was he your lover?"

Rosalind's lashes fluttered.

"You know such intimate details about him. Did you share a bed?" His voice was low, probing.

Heat flooded her cheeks, staining her pale skin crimson. She pulled harder, her fingers accidentally brushing against something firm and searing—so hot it sent a jolt through her.

With a gasp, she recoiled, stumbling back.

But Lucian caught her chin, tilting her face up to his. "Why stop now?"

Their breaths mingled, lips barely apart.

Rosalind searched his eyes—those familiar, piercing depths—and her knees nearly buckled. "Is it you? Tell me. I need to know."

His voice softened, almost tender. "Does it truly matter that much?"

"To me, it does," she whispered. "Everett... Is that really—mmph!"

Without warning, Lucian crushed his lips to hers.

The kiss was sudden, electrifying. Rosalind's eyes flew wide in shock. She hadn't expected this.

Her palms pressed against his chest, pushing weakly. "Stop—"

But Lucian spun her around, pinning her against the wall. His body burned against her back as his mouth trailed along her hair, then her ear.

"You can't even undo a belt," he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. "Tell me, Rosalind—has your fiancé Julian never touched you in all these years?"

Her breath hitched, tears pricking her eyes. "Everett... Is it you?"

Lucian nipped at her earlobe, the sharp sting making her gasp.

The sound seemed to unravel something in him. His arms tightened around her waist, pulling her flush against him, his desire unmistakable.

In a rough, heated whisper, he demanded, "Do you want me?"