Chapter 851

The evening air was crisp as Rosalind stepped into the softly lit restaurant, her black satin slip dress clinging to her slender frame like liquid shadow. Loose chestnut waves cascaded over her shoulders, framing her delicate features that needed only the barest touch of makeup to enhance their natural glow.

Lillian nudged her forward with a conspiratorial grin. "Go on," she whispered, making Rosalind's cheeks flush pink.

Lucian Graves looked up from his wineglass—and froze.

The woman before him was a vision, her soft brown eyes luminous in the candlelight. He'd never seen this side of Rosalind before—this effortless elegance that stole the breath from his lungs.

"Earth to Lucian," Lillian teased, snapping her fingers. "She said hello."

Lucian cleared his throat, his fingers tightening around his glass. "Rosalind."

Victoria Whitmore smiled warmly. "Come, sit with us."

As they settled at the table, Lillian arched a brow at Lucian. "Well? Isn't she stunning tonight?"

"Yes." The word left Lucian's lips before he could stop it, raw and honest.

Rosalind's pulse fluttered at the intensity in his gaze.

The waiter arrived with their first course, breaking the moment. Alistair Whitmore studied Lucian over his wineglass. "Are you seeing anyone currently?"

"Not for three years." Lucian's gloved fingers brushed the edge of his mask. "After the accident, Genevieve—my physician—stayed on as my doctor. Nothing more."

Rosalind's fork stilled. Was that explanation meant for her?

Victoria's gaze lingered on the black leather mask. "Your injuries...?"

"They've healed." Lucian's tone made it clear the subject was closed.

As Alistair smoothly redirected the conversation to business matters, Rosalind studied the man beside her. Even through the mask, she could see the tension in his jaw.

She remembered old photographs of him—all sharp cheekbones and smoldering confidence. Now that face was hidden away like a shameful secret.

When Lucian turned, he caught Rosalind watching him with an expression that made his chest tighten. Not revulsion, but heartbreaking tenderness—as if he were something fragile to be protected.

Her phone vibrated with a new message.

[Why are you looking at me like that?] - Lucian

Rosalind nearly dropped her wineglass. He'd texted her right in front of everyone!

Before she could respond, Alistair raised his glass. "To Mr. Graves—we owe Quantum Innovations a great debt."

"To Mr. Graves," Rosalind echoed, hastily locking her phone.

Later, as they stepped into the cool night air, Alistair gestured to the waiting cars. "We've all had wine. My assistant will drive."

Lillian looped her arm through Rosalind's. "We're riding with Lucian."

Victoria nodded approval. "Stay together."

As Nathaniel opened the car door, Lucian pressed his keys into the assistant's palm. "You're driving."

The leather seats smelled faintly of sandalwood as Rosalind slid in, hyperaware of Lucian's thigh brushing against hers in the close quarters. Somewhere between the restaurant and the quiet hum of the engine, she realized—she wasn't afraid of his scars.

She was afraid of how badly she wanted to see them.