Chapter 17

Serena’s POV

I jolted awake at the distinct, prickling sensation of being watched.

There he was—Ryan—looming over my bed like a dark shadow. His hand was suspended just inches from my face, as if he were debating whether to touch me or pull me back from a dream.

"What the hell are you doing?" I hissed, my heart hammering against my ribs as I clutched the thin sheet to my chest.

He didn’t answer immediately. His breathing was heavy and ragged. Even in the dim light of the moon filtering through the curtains, I could see a fine sheen of sweat glistening on his forehead. His eyes, usually as cold and calculating as a spreadsheet, were clouded with a dark, primal intensity I hadn't seen in years.

Then, the realization hit me with the force of a physical blow.

"Shit," I muttered, my eyes widening. "She gave you that tonic."

Evelyn’s "innococent" fertility tonic. It all made sense now—the old woman’s insistence, the lingering looks, her refusal to let the Harper line end with a divorce decree. She had resorted to a desperate, underhanded intervention to force our bodies to do what our hearts hadn't managed in three years.

"You need to go back to the study," I said firmly, my voice trembling despite my best efforts to sound authoritative. I kept the sheet pulled up like a shield. "Right now, Ryan. Walk away."

Instead of retreating, he sank onto the edge of my bed. The mattress dipped under his weight, and the sudden proximity sent an unwelcome jolt of awareness through me.

"I can’t think straight," he admitted, his voice dropping to a rough, broken whisper. "Everything feels... overwhelming."

"That’s because your grandmother interfered, you idiot." Despite the heat rising in the room, I couldn’t help the bitterness in my voice. "Three years of marriage, and she felt she had to resort to this just to get you to look at me. Ironic, isn't it?"

Ryan reached out, his hand finding my arm. Even that simple contact felt electric—a sharp, stinging contrast to the years of cold shoulders and empty hallways.

"I need to talk to you, Serena," he murmured, his grip tightening just enough to keep me from pulling away. "I can't be alone right now."

"No, you're just affected by whatever was in that drink," I corrected him, trying to ignore how my own pulse was racing under his fingertips. "It’s the tonic talking, not you."

He leaned closer, his gaze searching mine with a desperation that felt dangerously real. For three years, he had turned his back to me every single night. Now, the wall he had built between us was crumbling under the weight of the moment.

"Is it really just the drink?" he whispered, his breath warm against my skin. "Or have we both been pretending for too long?"

"This is wrong," I breathed, even as I felt my resolve weakening. "We’re divorced, Ryan. We moved on."

"Did we?" he challenged.

I should have pushed him away. I should have remembered the nights I’d cried myself to sleep, starving for the very attention he was now offering. But three years of longing and rejection had created a void that was suddenly, violently being filled. My hesitation was all he needed.

When he finally leaned in, the kiss wasn't the mechanical fulfillment of a marital duty. It was desperate, raw, and hungry. My hands flew to his chest, intending to shove him back into the hallway, but my fingers betrayed me, curling into the fabric of his shirt instead.

"Stop," I whispered against his lips, though the word lacked any real weight.

"The past doesn't matter tonight," Ryan growled, a commanding rumble that sent shivers down my spine. "Just for tonight, Serena... stop fighting."

I wanted to argue. I didn't want to be a pawn in Evelyn’s games or a temporary fix for his biological urges. But as he pulled me closer, the emotional scars of our history began to blur into a physical longing I could no longer suppress.

The rest of the night became a hazy blur of shared heat and whispered, feverish admissions. The barriers were gone. In the darkness, the resentment seemed to melt away, replaced by an intensity that was both terrifying and addictive. For the first time, he wasn't the distant CEO or the reluctant husband. He was just a man, and I was just a woman, caught in a moment that defied logic and law.

As the first light of dawn began to creep into the room, the fog started to lift. Reality was waiting just beyond the bedroom door, ready to rush back in with its judgments and complications.

But as Ryan pulled me gently against his chest, his steady heartbeat thrumming beneath my cheek, I allowed myself to drift off.

Tomorrow’s regrets could wait. Tonight, I would allow myself this one moment of unexpected surrender.