Duke was a man who prided himself on control.
Control over his emotions.
Control over his actions.
Control over who he allowed himself to care for.
And yet, here he was.
Standing in the dimly lit hallway of the estate, watching Nora from the shadows as she sat in the library, completely unaware of his presence.
She was reading again.
Curled up in the large armchair, completely absorbed in the book in her lap, she looked... peaceful. Soft. Nothing like Kay.
Which was exactly why this was a problem.
His grip on the whiskey glass tightened.
"Get it together, Duke."
This wasn't happening.
He wasn't falling for her.
Kay was a force of nature.
She was sharp edges, fire, and chaos wrapped in a body that was meant to be admired.
She was everything he was supposed to want.
And yet, he had never been able to love her.
Because of Elena.
Because of what happened.
Because love, for him, had been buried six feet under a long time ago.
So why was Nora—a nobody picked off the streets—stirring something in him he had no business feeling?
"You stare at her too much."
Duke didn't even flinch. He knew that voice.
Kay.
She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips.
"That's ridiculous," he muttered, taking a slow sip of his drink.
Kay hummed, stepping forward. "Is it?"
Duke turned to her, forcing indifference into his expression. "Don't start."
Kay laughed softly. "Oh, Duke. You poor, delusional man."
His jaw clenched. "She means nothing to me."
"Of course she doesn't." Kay tilted her head, watching him. "That's why you stand here every night, watching her."
He hated how well she knew him.
"You're imagining things," he muttered.
"Am I?" She took another step closer. "You could barely stomach touching me. But with her? You actually look at her like she's real."
Duke's grip tightened around his glass.
"This conversation is over."
Kay chuckled. "Oh, darling. You can lie to yourself all you want. But eventually, you'll have to face it."
She patted his cheek mockingly before walking away, leaving him standing there with nothing but the bitter taste of realization.
A week later, it happened.
The moment he lost complete control.
It was late. The estate was quiet. And Duke, for reasons he refused to acknowledge, found himself outside Nora's room.
He should have walked away.
Should have turned around, gone back to his cold, empty bed, and pretended she didn't exist.
But then the door opened.
And she was right there.
Eyes wide. Lips slightly parted in surprise.
She looked at him like she was trying to understand him. Like she saw something in him that he didn't want anyone to see.
And that scared him.
"Duke?"
Her voice was soft. Confused.
He shouldn't have been here.
But before he could step back, before he could fix this, she reached out—just the lightest touch against his wrist.
A touch that sent a burning sensation straight through him.
And just like that, for the first time in years, Duke felt something he couldn't explain.
And he hated it.