Chapter157 – Really handsome
A dark gleam flickered in Mrs. Rose’s eyes. She snapped open her fan with a soft flick. How interesting.
Meanwhile, Lyra sat silently, her complexion pale. She barely touched the food in front of her.
Dorian turned to her, concern flickering in his gaze. “Lyra? Are you feeling unwell?”
She looked up slowly, her eyes lingering on Dorian’s handsome, detached expression.
Last night’s conversation between him and Clarissa still rang in her ears like a ghost she couldn’t banish.
But now, seeing him look at her—with that bit of concern—something in her chest stirred.
He didn’t agree to Clarissa’s request last night. She was sure of it. Dorian still belonged to her. But Clarissa still tried to steal him.
“I’m alright,” Lyra whispered. “Just a bit tired.”
Dorian nodded. “Then let’s go back to the room so you can rest properly.”
“Okay...” she murmured, seizing the excuse to leave the room. She didn’t want to be anywhere near David.
.......
Inside their room, Lyra watched as Dorian adjusted his shirt, preparing to leave again. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him from behind.
“Dorian...”
He froze slightly. “What is it?”
Her voice trembled, hesitant. “I don’t like it here. Can we leave early?”
He turned to her, surprised. “Didn’t you say you loved the mystery of this place?”
“I know\... but...” she hesitated, then smiled faintly to hide her unease. “Nothing. It’s nothing.”
Dorian studied her for a beat, then gently pulled her into his embrace.
“We’ll stay a bit longer. Once you’re feeling better, I’ll take you to Butterfly Valley.”
Lyra rested her head against his chest, her hands tightening at his waist.
She couldn’t lose him. Dorian was hers.
June was right—if she didn’t take action, she’d lose him to Clarissa.
Dorian pressed a kiss to her forehead and murmured, “Rest up. I have to head out.”
But as he turned to leave, Lyra caught his sleeve again.
“Wait...”
He paused, looking down at her. “What is it?”
“I want to come with you today.”
His brow lifted slightly. “Today’s itinerary is fencing and horseback riding. Are you sure you can handle it?”
“I just want to be with you,” she said softly, tugging at his collar. “Can I?”
That kind of soft, feminine plea was hard for any man to resist.
Dorian took her hand and gave it a light squeeze. “Alright. But if you feel even the slightest bit unwell, I’ll have someone take you back immediately.”
“Okay,” Lyra nodded sweetly, her eyes gleaming with affection.
......
Clarissa stirred awake after a short hour of sleep, yawning and stretching beneath the soft quilt.
“Finally awake?”
The sudden voice startled her, snapping her fully alert.
She turned her head sharply. “How\... how did you get into my room?”
Atticus leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, a playful smirk tugging at his lips. “Did you forget already, sister?”
As his words settled, memories of last night trickled back.
“I brought you breakfast,” he said, strolling forward and placing a tray on the table. “The sandwich and coffee aren’t half bad. Try them.”
Clarissa got up, washed up quickly, and sat back down at the table. She picked at the sandwich, eating slowly, then took a sip of the warm coffee.
Atticus watched her with a helpless smile. “If you keep eating like this, I’m going to be scolded by Uncle and Aunt when we get home.”
Clarissa rolled her eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
Then, tilting her head, she asked, “What’s on the agenda today?”
Atticus reached over and playfully tousled her hair. “Fencing and horseback riding. Someone will bring your clothes in a bit.”
Clarissa immediately pulled his hand away, her face slightly red. “Can you not treat me like a child?”
Soon after, the two maids from the day before arrived and helped her change. Clarissa sighed in relief when she found out she didn’t have to wear a corset today.
Her outfit was a tailored khaki riding suit. The close-fitting cut hugged her figure perfectly, and with her tall boots, her long legs looked even more striking. She looked elegant and strong—like a heroine from an old-world novel brought to life.
Just as she was adjusting her sleeves, the door creaked open behind her.
Clarissa turned—and stopped breathing for a second.
Atticus stood there, framed in the doorway.
He was dressed head-to-toe in black: a fitted equestrian uniform, sleek black shirt partially unbuttoned at the collar, a tactical vest hugging his torso, black leather gloves on his hands, and a silver snakeskin belt wrapped around his waist. His sleeves were rolled up, revealing sculpted arms and sharp collarbones that hinted at restrained power.
There was something feral, magnetic, and devil-may-care about him in that moment—dark, dangerous, and painfully attractive.
Clarissa’s mouth parted slightly. She stared unabashedly.
Atticus noticed her dazed gaze and strolled closer, stopping right in front of her.
He raised an eyebrow. “You look like you’ve seen something amazing.”
“You’re… really handsome like this,” she admitted without thinking, completely mesmerized.
His smile deepened, his eyes flashing with mischievous satisfaction. He remembered her words from before—how she’d compared him to Dorian, and said he was younger, more beautiful.
Atticus cast a brief, icy glance at the maids still hovering in the room.
Sensing the shift in atmosphere, they quickly lowered their heads, finished tidying up, and slipped out, closing the door softly behind them.
Now alone, without missing a beat, Atticus stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Clarissa’s waist, drawing her close.
He lowered his lips to her ear and whispered, voice low and teasing, “So… am I really that handsome, sis?”
His breath sent a shiver down her spine. Clarissa trembled slightly, her heart racing.
She tilted her head back and met his eyes—those intense, molten-dark eyes filled with something deeper.
“Is it not good-looking?” he asked again, this time softer.
“You are,” she murmured, reaching up to touch his face with trembling fingers. “You’ve grown up so well…”
Atticus’s eyes darkened, a flame flickering behind them. “Sis… are you only realizing it now?”
She nodded faintly, lost in her own thoughts. “I can’t help you anymore. You don’t need me.”
There was a quiet bitterness in her voice, a note of helplessness. She continued, her voice barely above a whisper.
“I’m just one more person standing behind you, clapping from the sidelines. You’re going places I can’t follow…”
Atticus’s lips curved into a lazy, magnetic smile. His voice, low and velvet-smooth, brushed against her ears like silk.
“But my sis… you are incredibly important to me. Irreplaceable.”
“Stop comforting me,” Clarissa murmured, turning her head away. “There’s nothing you can’t do, Atticus. If there’s something in this world beyond you… it’s definitely something I’ll never be able to reach.”
She stepped back, creating space between them. “It’s getting late. We should hurry…”
But she only managed two steps before Atticus wrapped his arms around her from behind.
Her breath hitched. “Atticus…”
He leaned into her, his body warm and solid against her back, his voice barely above a whisper—low and possessive.
“Clarissa, don’t sell yourself short,” he breathed. “You matter to me—more than anyone else. Just like now…”
He tilted her chin gently, guiding her head toward him, and then captured her lips in a slow, deliberate kiss.
“Mm…”
Clarissa’s eyes widened, but before she could react, his tongue swept into her mouth, deepening the kiss with raw hunger. His hand tightened around her waist, anchoring her in place as he pressed her against the wall.
At some point, two buttons of her shirt had come undone. His lips trailed down, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses along her neck and collarbone, each one leaving a trail of fire in its wake.
“Atticus!” Her voice broke—breathless, and laced with tears.