Chapter 183
Allison remained still, listening as the awkward silence on the other end of the phone finally broke.
"Hoyt's stirring up trouble again," a voice said. "Looks like he's gearing up for the same stunt as last time—that aphrodisiac, probably planning to shove some woman into your bed."
Kellan's expression turned to ice. "Of course he is. The guy's always up to something underhanded. This never-ending web of schemes and manipulations is grating on my nerves."
His voice dropped, thick with irritation. "If he's so set on ruining my name, he can be the first to pay the price. Get some reporters there—gossip journalists love a scandal. Let's make sure his dirty laundry gets a proper airing. After all, he's desperate to be acknowledged as a 'real Lloyd,' right? Let's show the world what that looks like."
Kellan's tone sharpened with a cruel edge. "He wants attention? I'll give it to him."
"Got it," came the subordinate's quick response, already knowing exactly how to proceed with Kellan's coldly efficient plan.
The call ended abruptly, plunging the room into an uncomfortable silence. Kellan stared at his reflection in the mirror, his mind wandering to Hoyt's idiocy. The man was as predictable as ever, not even bothering to change his tactics. Did he truly think Kellan would fall for the same trick twice?
In moments like this, Kellan's thoughts grew more conflicted. Once upon a time, a thousand things competed for his attention, leaving him in a constant state of irritation. But ever since Allison had entered his life, a strange calm had settled over him, like the eye of a storm. Whenever those feelings bubbled to the surface, the first thought that flickered through his mind was of Allison—that beautiful, yet perilous woman.
Kellan's dark eyes deepened as he silently whispered her name, the syllables hanging in the air like a haunting melody.
Allison remained blissfully unaware of Kellan's thoughts. She could only make out his silhouette rising slowly, heading toward a silicone mannequin tucked away in the corner of the room. Kellan had always boasted a striking physique—broad shoulders, a tapering waist, the smooth contours of his muscles increasingly evident with each fluid movement.
Then, Allison noticed something amiss. His breathing was labored, and the edges of his eyes bore an unusual redness, as if shadows had taken up residence there. A frown creased her brow.
The mannequin was transforming in her mind, looking less like a mere toy and more like a bizarre artifact, especially with the assortment of tools lining the wall—a scene that was hard to articulate. Yet, in the recesses of Kellan's mind, it was the image of Allison's cold, unyielding face that replayed over and over.
"You really are a puzzle wrapped in an enigma," he muttered under his breath, his body igniting with heat.
Kellan gradually closed his eyes, imagining Allison's hair dancing in the breeze, each strand tugging at the strings of his heart like a marionette caught in a gentle wind. And those striking red-bottomed high heels she wore in the Burned Islands—they lingered in his thoughts, a fantasy of her stepping on him with those slender heels, looking down from her lofty perch, then crushing him beneath her foot. Just like that fateful night on the yacht, they were intertwined in a way that left no room for escape.
Soon, a low, controlled gasp, tinged with urgency, slipped from Kellan's throat. It was a side of him Allison had never witnessed. She had initially wanted to gather more clues but was left momentarily speechless. Yet, the realization dawned on her that Kellan was merely human, with his own needs.
They were adults; such things weren't entirely shocking. Still, Allison felt an unusual wave of awkwardness and quickly shifted her gaze. Eavesdropping on a phone call felt wrong enough; watching someone engage in such activities was another matter entirely.
Kellan was in the prime of his youth. Even if rumors suggested he was disinterested in women, that hardly meant he lacked the usual urges. With the myriad of hidden dangers lurking around him, he had to feign some sort of incapacity. If he didn't find a way to relieve his mounting stress, it could lead to significant complications.
Allison supported her head with her hand. Though the scene was out of her sight, she could still hear it unfold. His heavy breaths, laced with an undertone of longing, lingered in her ears. To be honest, the sound of a man's gasps held an undeniable allure, magnetic.
She listened intently for what felt like an eternity, but her mind couldn't help but wonder, What's taking so long? Memories of that night on the yacht came flooding back, where they had both surrendered to wild abandon. Kellan had indeed showcased remarkable endurance, a stamina that had been hard to overlook.
After what felt like another half hour, the steady rhythm of his breathing showed no signs of slowing. "Geez, is he ever going to wrap this up?" Allison shifted her stiff limbs slightly; crouching in this cabinet was turning her muscles into lead. However, the slightest movement emitted a noise, causing Kellan to snap to attention. His expression darkened, and he barked, "Who's there? Show yourself!"