Chapter 29

Vivienne studied Derek with subtle, probing curiosity. Who was this man, really? Derek reclined with calculated ease, his shirt collar rebelliously undone, exposing the faint curve of his collarbone—an act that felt both deliberate and careless. A palpable shift in his aura, a touch of rawness creeping into his typically composed demeanor, was like a flame momentarily unguarded from the wind. The warm light spilled over him like molten gold, tempering his imposing presence with an almost tender glow. His eyelids were half-closed; the corners of his mouth curled into a subtle, enigmatic smile as he moved through the coffee-making ritual with the precision of a watchmaker. When he finally slid a cup toward Vivienne, his voice, low and resonant, wrapped around the words like velvet. "When are you getting discharged?"

Vivienne cradled the cup, savoring the first sip. The rich aroma filled her senses. When its sweetness dissipated on her tongue, she replied calmly, "Tomorrow."

"I'll take you home then." His words dropped into the space between them, steady and unyielding, laced with an authority that left little room for negotiation.

Vivienne gave a small shake of her head, a polite but firm refusal. "Your concern is noted, Mr. Hopkins, but it's unnecessary."

Derek's gaze rose to meet hers, his dark eyes locking onto her like a predator sizing up its prey. And then, as though the tension weren't enough, a faint smirk tugged at his lips, his voice dipping into something dangerously smooth. "You're afraid of me."

Vivienne's grip tightened around the cup, but her expression remained stoic, her eyes meeting his with calm resolve. "Afraid? That's an interesting assumption."

His dark eyes were bottomless pools of inscrutability, radiating an invisible pressure that threatened to consume her. He was far more complex than she had initially presumed. While she couldn't risk provoking him, she was equally determined to maintain her distance.

Derek studied her, his expression unreadable, though a faint glimmer danced in his gaze, like starlight on a restless sea. "I won't twist your arm or demand anything from you," he said softly, though his words carried an edge sharp enough to cut. "But your outright rejection? That stings a bit, doesn't it?"

It was impossible to deny Derek's allure—his face alone was a masterpiece, sculpted to enchant and disarm. Beauty like his had a gravitational pull, and Vivienne wasn't immune. Yet her heart, fractured by Warren's betrayal, was a fortress with walls too high to climb, too cold to breach. Not even Derek's charm could thaw its icy battlements.

"Confidence looks good on you, Mr. Hopkins," she said with a faint, sardonic smile, her words steeped in irony.

Derek leaned back, his movements unhurried, and traced the rim of his coffee cup with long, elegant fingers. "It's not just confidence," he replied with an almost casual air. "It's certainty. There's no one else in this world who deserves you more than I do."

His voice was calm, but his words rang with an unshakeable conviction that left no room for argument.

Vivienne regarded him in silence for a moment, her lips curling into a slow smile—bright, but edged with frost. She placed the cup down with a quiet thud. Her tone, sharp enough to slice through his composure, was clear. "So, you're telling me I can only choose you, Mr. Hopkins?"

"No." Derek's gaze softened, but his smile deepened, a wolfish glint in his eyes as he leaned forward slightly. His voice dropped, deliberate and hypnotic. "I'm saying I'm fated to keep you. For life."

The words hit her like a thunderclap, reverberating in her chest, leaving an unsettling ache in their wake. Her breath caught, her lashes fluttering as she fought to steady herself. Her fingers curled into fists under the table as she tore her gaze away from him. The faint scent of sandalwood hung in the air, wrapping around her like a net, suffocating and inescapable. The tension was unbearable. She abruptly rose to her feet. "It's late. I should get some rest."

But as she turned to leave, his hand shot out, his fingers curling gently but firmly around her wrist.