Duke's POV
Duke sat at the edge of his bed, his fingers pressing against his temples.
The memories of the night before were unshakable.
The warmth of her body beneath him.
The way she trembled under his touch.
The soft, hesitant gasps as she took him for the first time.
She had been a virgin.
His jaw clenched. He should have known.
She had been too hesitant, too unsure.
And yet, she never once told him to stop.
He had felt it—the resistance, the tension, the pain.
The moment she tensed, he had almost pulled away.
"Are you—?" His voice had been rough, shaky.
But she had just clung to him, eyes glassy, lips parted.
"Don't stop." She had whispered it, like a confession.
And like a fool, he had listened.
He ran a hand down his face, exhaling sharply.
How had he let it happen?
She was a girl picked off the street, a tool for their arrangement.
She was not someone he should be thinking about the next morning, not someone he should be remembering like this.
But he couldn't stop.
The way she had looked at him afterward.
The way she had trusted him.
Damn it.
This was a mistake.
A mistake he couldn't afford to make again.
Duke had spent the entire morning avoiding Nora.
It wasn't difficult—he had meetings, calls, and the constant distractions of business to drown out the thoughts that kept plaguing him.
But now, as he walked into the estate's private lounge, he saw her.
She stood by the large windows, dressed in a simple house robe, staring out at the garden as if lost in thought.
His footsteps were firm as he walked in, but she didn't turn.
She must have heard him.
She was choosing to ignore him.
That was good.
It made things easier.
He should let her keep the distance, pretend nothing happened, act as if last night was just… a necessity, a contract obligation.
But something about her silence unsettled him.
"You should be resting."
His voice was cold, distant.
Nora finally turned.
Her eyes met his—deep, unreadable.
"I'm fine."
She spoke so calmly, so controlled, but he saw it.
The faint stiffness in her movements.
The unspoken words hanging between them.
His gaze dropped to her wrist, the way she clutched the fabric of her robe like it was some kind of shield.
"Nora—"
"Don't."
She cut him off, her voice firm, but not angry.
"It was just one night, right?" She tilted her head slightly. "I understand that."
He didn't like the way she said it.
Like she was forcing herself to believe it.
Like she was trying to convince herself that what had happened between them meant nothing.
Duke's chest tightened.
"Good," he said, because it was the only thing he could say.
She gave him a small nod, the kind that felt too rehearsed, too controlled.
Then she turned back to the window, dismissing him completely.
Duke clenched his fists.
He should walk away.
That was the right thing to do.
But instead, he stood there, watching her, feeling something foreign and unwanted stir inside him.
Something that felt dangerously close to regret.
That was the right thing to do.
But instead, he stood there, watching her, feeling something foreign and unwanted stir inside him.
Something that felt dangerously close to regret.