Chapter 931

Lucian Graves smirked, his lips curving with amusement. "Why the hurry?"

Rosalind Fairchild blinked in confusion. What was he playing at?

She glanced out the window, realizing they weren't heading toward her apartment. He had practically abducted her—taking control of the wheel and dragging her along without a care. Now, with the night deepening, he still refused to let her leave.

"Where are we going?" she demanded, crossing her arms. "I need to go home."

Lucian turned, his dark eyes glinting with mischief. "Why so tense? Afraid I'll devour you?"

She scoffed, forcing a laugh. "Don't be ridiculous. A man like you wouldn't dare."

Her flattery was transparent, and he saw right through it.

"That depends entirely on your behavior," he countered smoothly.

Rosalind fell silent.

Thirty minutes later, the sleek car rolled to a stop in front of an imposing estate—Lucian's private residence.

He opened the door with a mocking bow. "After you."

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around her purse. "I really should leave. It's late, and I don't want to impose."

Before he could respond, she spun on her heel and bolted.

Lucian had anticipated this. In two strides, he blocked her path, his expression smug. "Running away again?"

"I—"

He didn’t let her finish. In one fluid motion, he scooped her into his arms.

"Put me down!" she shrieked, kicking futilely.

Ignoring her protests, he carried her inside, up the grand staircase, and straight into the master suite.

Rosalind recognized it instantly—the cool, masculine decor, the sleek minimalism, the crisp scent of his cologne lingering in the air.

Her face burned. "This is a bad idea. Let me go."

She tried to scramble away, but Lucian caught her ankle and yanked her back onto the bed, pinning her beneath him. "You're already in my bed. Where exactly do you think you're going?"

Then his mouth crashed down on hers.

She shoved against his chest, her breath ragged. "Stop! Didn't I help you enough at the theater? Why do you still want more?"

He undid another button on his shirt, smirking. "That was just the appetizer. I'm still waiting for the main course."

Rosalind's pulse spiked.

Thinking of the baby, she twisted away. "Please... don't do this."

Lucian pinned her wrists to the mattress, his voice a low growl. "Too late for regrets now."

"Lucian—mmph!" His lips silenced her again.

By morning, Rosalind felt fingers lightly tracing her cheek.

She swatted them away, mumbling, "Stop... I need sleep..."

A deep chuckle rumbled beside her.

Her lashes fluttered open. Lucian was already awake, propped on one elbow, watching her with lazy amusement.

"Good morning," he murmured.

Her memories of the previous night rushed back.

She yanked the sheets up to her chin. "What—"

He arched a brow. "No need to hide. I've seen everything already."

Rosalind had no reply.