Page 64 of Blood Heir

“Alright,” I whisper.

He kisses my shoulder and reaches past me to turn off the water. The shower still steams around us as he wraps me in a towel. His hands don’t leave me as we step out together.

^^^^

By the time we’re ready, the sun has long dipped into evening. The air carries that cool Melbourne breeze, soft against my skin as I slip into the black silk dress that drapes just below my knees. It clings to me, smooth and light, with thin straps over my shoulders. The jewelry he selects for me is minimal—a small diamond pendant, simple earrings, nothing too loud. My hair is pulled back in a soft twist, with a few strands left loose to frame my face.

He watches me from the doorway of my room. His eyes are careful, tracing every move as I adjust the hem. His suit is dark, perfectly tailored, his cufflinks glinting under the soft glow of the chandelier. He doesn’t speak as I reach for my clutch, but I feel the weight of his stare like a hand at the small of my back.

The drive is quiet. His hand rests lightly over mine where it sits in my lap, his thumb brushing in small, slow circles across my knuckles. I steal glances at him through the corner of my eye. The sharp jawline, the way his hands command the wheel with such casual authority, the faint crease between his brows as he concentrates on the road.

Why is he being so soft with me? My chest feels tight as I try to make sense of him. This man who both cages and cushionsme. His tenderness tonight only sharpens the confusion inside me.

When we arrive, we pull up to an exclusive private cinema. The valet opens my door and I step out, heels clicking against the smooth stone pathway. Serevin is at my side instantly, hand on the small of my back as a staff member greets him with an elegant bow and ushers us through a velvet-draped entrance.

The hallway is dimly lit, with gilded wall sconces and plush carpeting that hushes our steps. We’re led into a private screening room—a luxury suite with just one wide, lush couch positioned in front of a massive screen. A silver tray of champagne and snacks awaits us, the room warm and softly lit.

I slide into the seat beside him, sinking into the deep velvet cushion. He hands me a glass of champagne, his fingers brushing mine as I take it.

“Comfortable?” he asks, voice smooth.

I nod, offering a small smile. “Almost dangerously so.”

The movie starts, its opening credits glowing softly across the room. The surround sound fills the space, wrapping around us. His arm slides behind me, resting lightly along the top of the couch. Not possessive. Just present.

We watch in silence for a while. Occasionally, he reaches for the bowl of popcorn on the table and gently offers it to me, holding the bowl out with a faint smile. His eyes stay on the screen, but his attention feels tethered to me.

I take a handful, popping a few kernels into my mouth, feeling oddly… safe? I catch myself studying him in the flicker of the screen’s light. The soft shadows cast over his face, his profile so sharp it could cut through glass. His lips twitch faintly at certain scenes, like he knows the film inside and out.

Why is he being like this? My heart tightens. I can’t remember much, but I don’t remember him feeling like this. The man I’ve known since I woke up was cold. Unreadable. Dangerous. But this man sitting beside me, offering me popcorn and sneaking glances, feels almost gentle. Almost loving. And it makes my stomach coil because I don’t know what part of him is real.

An hour into the film, a scene flashes before me—a woman on screen stands in front of her vanity, speaking on the phone, her voice a whisper. The camera shifts as she reaches behind the mirror and pulls out a small gun hidden in a secret compartment.

My breath catches.

The vanity.

The one in my room.

It looks almost identical. The curve of the edges. The ornate wood. The small lock at the side that I had dismissed until now. My eyes widen as the realization slides into place. The key. The tiny key I've kept hidden since I found it. It was too small for anything significant—but a diary? A locked drawer?

I sit straighter, my mind racing as I pretend to focus on the film. He notices the shift and leans in slightly.

“You alright?” His voice is low, brushing against my ear.

I nod quickly. “Yes. Just… invested.”

He chuckles softly, seemingly pleased that I’m enjoying myself. But I’m not thinking about the film anymore. My thoughts are tangled up in the possibility that I might have left something for myself before I lost everything.

A clue. A message. Something that could finally tell me who I really am.

And as his fingers lightly skim along my shoulder, I keep my face calm while my mind spins.

^^^^

We leave the cinema just after midnight. The warm night air brushes my skin as we step outside, the city lights soft and distant. Serevin’s hand slides around my waist as the valet brings the car forward. I let him guide me inside like a gentleman, like a lover, like a husband.

The car hums softly as he drives, one hand steady on the wheel, the other reaching over to intertwine his fingers with mine. I watch him out of the corner of my eye. His face is calm, his lips softly curved. To anyone else, we look like the perfect couple.

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