When Emily Ward heard that name, her expression stiffened slightly. She glanced toward Sophie Reed, whose face had gone pale.
Sophie said nothing. Her lips pressed together lightly as her gaze dropped.
From the driver’s seat, Julian Marks glanced at them through the rearview mirror before shifting his eyes toward Lydia Moore. His tone carried a lazy smile, though there was a warning in his look.
“Focus on driving, cousin. Less talking.”
A few minutes later, the car stopped in front of Riverside University.
Sophie got out, slipped off the man’s jacket she had been wearing, and handed it back to Julian. Her tone was cool and polite.
“Mr. Marks, thank you for tonight.”
Julian glanced at the jacket but didn’t take it. His eyes, however, hooked onto hers with deliberate intent.
“That’s all the thanks I get, Ms. Reed?”
Sophie met his gaze for a fleeting moment before lowering her eyes again. After a brief hesitation, she spoke softly.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Marks, perhaps I could take you to dinner sometime to thank you properly. But—”
“I don’t mind at all,” he interrupted with a faint grin. “Having dinner with you would be my honor. Keep the jacket for now—give it back to me then.”
Lydia sat quietly in the car, unable to hear their words. But judging from their body language in the mirror, the air between them was unmistakably charged.
Julian was clearly interested this time—far more than with the women before.
After a few more words, Julian watched Sophie and Emily walk toward the university gate before he turned back, opened the door, and slid into the car again—this time, not the passenger seat, but the back.
He gave Lydia an address, leaned back, and closed his eyes, resting in silence.
Neither of them spoke the entire way.
That was how it usually was between them.
Outside of bed, they might as well have been strangers.
When they returned to Crescent Residence, Lydia noticed a message from Monica Hayes.
She hesitated for a moment, then replied:
[Let’s talk in person. It’s not something I can explain over text.]
After sending it, Lydia went upstairs. She showered, checked her work email, and went to bed.
But her sleep was uneasy—light and restless.
She didn’t know how long she had been asleep when the suffocating feeling hit.
Something heavy pressed down on her, forcing the air from her lungs. Her lips were pried open—an intrusion followed.
In the haze between dream and waking, an image flickered through her mind. Her body responded instinctively, breath catching as she whispered a name.
“Adrian…”
The intruder paused briefly—then the assault grew fiercer, cutting off what little oxygen remained.
Lydia jolted awake, gasping.
In the dark, a strong hand gripped her jaw, forcing her head up. A low, dangerous chuckle drifted through the shadows.
“Awake now?”
Her breath came in ragged pulls as her eyes adjusted, and she finally made out his face—Julian Marks. His long, narrow eyes gleamed with danger, even as his lips curved in a lazy smile.
They stared at each other for a long moment before Lydia’s mind cleared enough to separate dream from reality. She said nothing. Her breathing gradually steadied.
Julian’s fingers traced her cheek lightly, almost tenderly—as though he were caressing someone he loved. He was good at making women believe that.
But Lydia knew she wasn’t one of them.
And she didn’t love him.
“Nothing to say?” His voice was low and almost soothing, as if he were whispering an intimate secret.
“What should I say?” Lydia’s tone was flat, weary.
Julian lowered his head until their noses nearly brushed. His voice was quiet but sharp as a blade.
“You were in my bed… calling another man’s name. Don’t you think you owe me something for that?”
