"No... no. That's impossible," I protested, but my voice sounded weak and uncertain, even to my own ears. Memories flashed through my mind. Nicholas sometimes answering the phone in a low voice and walking away. His promises that were occasionally "forgotten." The faint floral perfume I'd smelled once or twice, which I'd defended with the excuse that he might have been standing near a female colleague.

"You're lying," I whispered, trying to convince myself more than him. "You're only saying this for... for your own purposes. To make me leave him."

Kenny didn't get angry. Instead, his gaze was filled with a pity that hurt me even more. Pity.

"Then ask him, Judith," he challenged in a low, calm voice, yet filled with ironclad conviction. "Ask the Nicholas you trust so much directly. Ask him the client's name and the location of the project that requires him to be away for three months. Watch his reaction. Listen carefully to the tone of his voice when he answers."

The arm around my waist finally loosened, giving me space, but I felt even more shattered. He stood up, leaving me slumped weakly on the sofa, my body still warm from his embrace and my head full of deadly unease.

"Think about it," he said before turning to leave, his voice flat again, but this time carrying a terrifying certainty. "I'm not asking you to believe me. I'm only asking you to open your eyes."

The door closed slowly, leaving me alone in the flickering candlelight, surrounded by silence and a truth that was beginning to creep in.

I tried to do what he said.

My trembling fingers pressed Nicholas's number. The ringing sounded long and torturous in my ears, each tone prolonging the anxiety gnawing at my heart. Finally, the connection opened.

"Sweetheart!" Nicholas greeted cheerfully. His background sounded quiet. "What's up?"

"Nicholas, I... I just wanted to ask about your project," I said, trying to keep my voice calm. "Who's the client, darling? And in which city exactly are you? I... I want to send you something."

There was a brief pause. Just a second, but enough to make me hold my breath.

"Ah, it's a collaboration project with a foreign company, sweetheart. The name is quite complicated, Devron Group. And I'll be moving between cities, so the address isn't fixed," he answered, too quickly and too vague. His voice was still friendly, but something was different. A forced tone. "Don't bother sending anything. I'm fine here."

My heart skipped a beat. Devron Group. Kenny had mentioned the same name in the list of companies he owned.

"But—"

"Sweetheart, sorry, I have a conference call to take. I'll call you tomorrow night, okay? I love you."

—click.

The connection ended. I sat there, the phone still pressed to my ear, which was now ringing. Cold. His answer felt like a rehearsed script. And that pause... that brief yet meaningful pause, said it all.

Kenny might... not be lying.

With my heart still racing after the call, I hurriedly left the sofa and approached Nicholas's room. Without a second thought, I opened the door—and my breath caught.

There, right in front of the wardrobe, Kenny was shirtless, a t-shirt hanging from his hand. The light from the hallway illuminated the contours of his muscular frame, every definition carved clearly like an ancient Greek statue. Something wild stirred within me, a primal pull that made me feel both guilty and mesmerized.

"You!" I exclaimed, trying to hide my boiling anxiety. "Do you know where Nicholas is right now?"

My question came from curiosity and a desire to prove all of Kenny's accusations wrong. Yet deep down, there was a freezing fear—what if it was all true?

Kenny smirked, an expression full of victory and temptation. Slowly, he approached. The masculine scent of his woody soap mixed with sweat filled the air between us, tempting every breath I took. His warm hand cupped my chin gently yet authoritatively.

"If I'm right," he whispered, his voice hoarse and deep, "what will you do?"

My eyes, unblinking, stared into his, drowning in the challenging blue ocean of his gaze.

Time seemed to stop. Our gazes locked, illuminated only by the flickering candlelight and the occasional lightning flash behind the window, briefly illuminating Kenny's sharp profile before vanishing again. In those swaying shadows, my mind was in turmoil. Between wanting to push him away, or surrendering to the strange sensations flowing intensely from his touch.

And then, without warning, he closed the remaining distance.

His lips captured mine in a deep, passionate kiss, completely different from Nicholas's gentle ones. This kiss felt like a confession, like a claim, like a storm demolishing all my doubts. The hand that was holding my chin moved to the back of my neck, holding me in place, while his other arm wrapped around my waist, pulling my body closer until I could feel every ridge of his hot chest muscles.

When he finally released my lips, we were both breathless. In the darkness, his eyes blazed.

"I can't stand it," he whispered, his voice raspy and full of desire. "Seeing your cute lips moving in denial, while your eyes ask for more."

And then, he assaulted me again. His lips enveloped mine in a deeper, more desperate kiss, while his body pushed me until my back was pressed hard against the cold wall. I was trapped between the cold wall and the heat of his body. His large hand crept up, squeezing my breast through the fabric of my shirt.

"Ah—!" A reflexive moan escaped my throat, a sound foreign even to me. The intoxicating, forbidden sensation spread like wildfire, threatening to burn away all remaining logic and loyalty I was fighting for.

But amidst the wave of passion that nearly drowned me, a small voice in my head screamed loudly. This is wrong. You will hurt Nicholas.

With all the strength I could muster from the tips of my toes to the ends of my hair, I pushed against his hard chest. "Stop!" I shouted, my voice hoarse and trembling.

Kenny stepped back, his breath still ragged. His darkened eyes were still full of unsated emotion, but he gave me space.

"His address," I insisted, trying to calm my voice and my racing heart. "Give me Nicholas's address. Now."

He looked at me for a long moment, as if weighing things. Then, with a sudden return of coldness, he uttered, "Villa Bougenville, Number 23."

Without a second thought, I slipped my still-trembling body past him, grabbed the car keys from the sideboard, and rushed out of the house. I didn't care about the still-drizzling rain, I didn't care about Kenny left alone in the darkness of my house. The only thought swirling in my head was: Villa Bougenville Number 23. I had to see it with my own eyes.

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