Later That Day
Caliste wandered to the beach, still fuming. How could one man be so emotionally constipated and still make her stomach twist with one look?
She sat under a shaded cabana, trying to read, when a familiar voice interrupted her thoughts.
"Alone again?" Jace asked, appearing with two cold drinks.
She forced a smile. "Seems to be a theme lately."
He handed her one and sat beside her. "He doesn't look like he deserves you."
"You don't know him."
"Neither do you."
She blinked. "Excuse me?"
Jace shrugged. "You don't know the real him, Caliste. Not the way someone should know their partner. You've been playing house for three years, right? But did he ever actually let you in?"
The words hit a little too close.
"I thought I knew him," she admitted. "But now? I'm not sure."
Jace leaned closer. "You could do better."
"I could do worse," she muttered.
He chuckled. "You still have that fire."
"Be careful, you might get burned."
Suddenly, a shadow fell across the cabana.
Lucian.
He stood there in black swim shorts, towel around his neck, looking like a Greek god carved in irritation.
"Am I interrupting something?" he asked coolly.
Jace stood slowly. "Just catching up."
"With my wife," Lucian added sharply.
Caliste stood. "Lucian, don't—"
"No, please," Jace said with a smirk. "She's a grown woman. She can talk to whoever she wants."
Lucian's jaw ticked. "You're right. She can."
He looked at Caliste, his eyes unreadable. "Dinner. Tonight. Just us. You pick the place."
Caliste raised an eyebrow. "Is this an apology?"
"No. It's a start."
He walked away.
Jace let out a low whistle. "That man's got some nerve."
Caliste didn't respond. Her heart was pounding too loud to think.
The sun dipped behind the ocean, casting the sky in hues of amber and rose. Caliste stood in front of the mirror in a silky dark red dress that clung to her curves but fell elegantly around her ankles. Her hair was loosely curled, her lips tinted berry red.
She wasn't sure why she tried this hard. It was just dinner.
But part of her wanted to see Lucian look at her—really look.
When she stepped into the private dining terrace of the resort, she saw him waiting at a candlelit table for two. Dressed in a crisp white shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, he looked effortlessly expensive, like he belonged in a luxury magazine.
He stood when he saw her.
And for a second—just a second—his eyes softened. "You look beautiful."
Her heart skipped.
"Thanks," she said, trying to stay cool. "You look like money."
He smirked. "That's the goal."
They sat, menus untouched.
"So," she said, breaking the silence, "what are we doing here?"
"Eating dinner."
"No. I mean... what are we doing, Lucian? Are we pretending again? Are we enemies? Roommates? Strangers who accidentally kissed?"
He stared at his wine glass, swirling the red liquid. "Does it have to be anything?"
She blinked. "Wow. That's mature."
"I'm not trying to play games, Caliste," he said, tone firmer now. "But I don't want to say something I'll regret. We were never supposed to get involved."
"Involved?" she echoed. "You kissed me like I was the only woman you've ever wanted. And now you're saying it meant nothing?"
"I didn't say that."
"But you won't say it meant something, either."
Lucian looked away. His silence said everything.
She felt it like a punch.
Just then, behind them, hidden by palms and shadows, a figure leaned against a stone column—Jace. Hands in his pockets, a half-smile on his face. Watching. Listening.
He'd followed them here, purely out of curiosity… or maybe something more.
Back at the table, Caliste leaned forward. "You want the truth? That kiss—it messed with me. I haven't been able to think straight since."
Lucian's jaw tightened. "That makes two of us."
"Then say it. Whatever it is. Say it's real. Say you care."
He met her gaze but didn't speak.
She laughed bitterly and sat back. "Right. Classic Lucian."
He grabbed her hand across the table, startling her. His grip was warm, strong.
"I'm not good at this," he said quietly.
"I don't need you to be perfect, Lucian," she said. "I just need you to be honest."
His lips parted like he was about to say something—then stopped. Closed again.
She waited. He said nothing.
She slowly pulled her hand away. "Then I guess we're done here."
She stood and left, her heels tapping sharply against the floor.
Lucian sat there, alone, the candle between them flickering in the night breeze.
From behind the column, Jace stepped out, watching her walk off.
He smiled to himself.
"Well," he murmured, "looks like your prince doesn't know how to hold onto a queen."