chapter257

Elysia slipped from under the covers and tiptoed out of the study, her movements silent as a shadow. Her goal was Tarquin’s bedroom door.

Elysia had never been one for complex schemes; she preferred a direct approach. How could she prove if Tarquin was the mysterious man from the airport years ago? Simple: she just needed to see his shoulder. During that chaotic night, she had bitten him fiercely in her struggle. If he were that man, the scar would be unmistakable.

To her relief, the door wasn't locked. She crept into the room, crouching low and tiptoeing toward the bed.

Tarquin was lying on his back, his hands crossed over his chest in a disciplined sleeping position. His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even. Seeing his face in the moonlight, Elysia paused. Even she had to admit—he was incredibly handsome in his sleep.

When awake, he was cool and detached, but in rest, his features seemed carved from marble. Phrases like "broad-shouldered" or "chiseled" didn't do him justice; he looked more like a masterpiece painted by a divine hand. While Elliot, Evan, and Elijah inherited his looks, they were still cherubic children. None of them possessed his rugged, masculine charm.

With such a face, he could have been a superstar. Too bad his personality was... less than ideal. A volatile temper paired with a sharp, venomous tongue. What a waste, she thought with a silent sigh.

Elysia bit her lip, waving a hand in front of his face to ensure he was truly asleep. Confirming he was out cold, she reached for his collar. He was wearing a crew-neck pajama top, which blocked her view. Steeling her nerves, she reached out to tug at his neckline, trying to pull the fabric down just far enough to reveal the shoulder.

But before she could see anything, her wrist was caught in a grip of iron!

Startled, she lost her balance and tumbled forward. "Oof—" Her forehead collided with his collarbone, a sharp sting of pain radiating through her skull.

Before she could scramble away, Tarquin moved with the speed of a predator. He pulled her onto the bed, flipping her beneath him in one fluid motion. Without giving her a chance to resist, he pinned her hands above her head and trapped her legs, effectively neutralizing her.

Click.

The bedside lamp flooded the room with light, momentarily blinding her. As her vision cleared, she met Tarquin’s gaze. Her heart began to race—not from romance, but from pure, unadulterated survival instinct.

Tarquin was glaring down at her, his expression grim and dangerous. His grip was devoid of any tenderness; he was holding her like an intruder caught in the act. His voice was chillingly cold.

"What exactly do you think you’re doing?"

Intimidated by his menacing aura, Elysia stammered, "I... I can explain!"

Tarquin stared down at her, his dark eyes waiting. But Elysia’s mind was a complete blank. How could she explain this? Telling the truth was impossible—he hadn't even discovered that Elliot and Evan were his sons yet. Confessing now would be catastrophic.

Losing his limited patience, Tarquin’s voice dropped to a low, dangerous register. "What was the plan, Elysia? Trying to seduce me?"

"What? No!" She shook her head frantically. "Not at all!"

"Then what? Trying to kill me?"

Elysia’s eyes widened in shock. Such a grave accusation made her blood run cold. "Don’t be ridiculous! I can’t even kill a chicken, let alone someone like you! I wasn't trying to hurt you!"

"Then why," Tarquin asked, his eyes narrowing as he leaned closer until she could feel his breath on her face, "did you sneak into my room in the dead of night, stare at me for ten minutes, and start tugging at my clothes?"