Chapter 8

This was, without a doubt, Lucas Gray's boldest move yet.

If his assistant hadn't called midway to pull him away, I wouldn't have known how to handle him.

Before leaving, Lucas brushed his hand against my flushed cheek and gently reminded me, "Kevin's locked up over there. No need to rush out. Just take your time and rest."

I could still hear the furious banging on the next door as I sat in the lounge, gathering myself. It took me a while to get up, fix my clothes, and leave in search of something to eat.

The server outside the door was clearly one of Lucas's people—each wore matching golden name tags pinned to their uniforms, making it easier for me to identify them.

They led me to a quiet corner of the venue.

"Miss Ayla," one of them said politely, "Mr. Gray asked us to tell you to wait here for him. He'll take you home tonight."

"…Alright," I murmured, nervously curling my fingers.

The faint sensation of his touch lingered on my skin, teasing and addictive.

Maybe I was still too lost in the haze of what had just happened to notice someone approaching.

That is, until a glass of red wine was suddenly dumped over me, pulling me sharply out of my thoughts.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Ayla!" The woman stammered, feigning panic. "I saw your glass was empty and thought I'd refill it for you. I didn't mean to spill it!"

My hair dripped with wine as I stared at her chest.

Her dark uniform was bare—no golden name tag.

I immediately understood.

She was Jenna York's friend, pulling the same tricks as before.

Without hesitation, I grabbed her by the hair and dragged her screaming into the crowd.

"Where's Jenna?" I demanded.

"Jenna!" she shrieked, clutching at my wrist. "Help me! She's hurting me!"

A hand abruptly grabbed my forearm, stopping me.

The voice was sharp, haughty, and unmistakable.

"Miss Ayla, let go of my friend."

I turned to face her, studying her closely. Her features blurred in my mind, impossible to piece together.

I'd searched for her so many times before, but she always hid behind others, laughing as they played their games with me.

But this time, she'd walked right into my hands.

In front of everyone, I kicked her hard in the knee.

The dull thud echoed across the room as Jenna collapsed to the floor, clutching her leg in pain. Her face paled as she cried out.

"Does it hurt?" I asked softly.

I thought about my own knee, the one that ached every time it rained, and added, "Mine hurts too."

"When you had your friend trip me, you should've known this day would come."

Jenna bit her lip, tears streaming down her face as she stared at the ground.

Footsteps approached from behind.

Kevin appeared suddenly, grabbing me by the neck and slamming me onto a nearby table. His face was dark with anger.

"Ayla," he growled, "do you have any idea she's an actress? How is she supposed to work if you injure her leg?"

I stared back at him, my eyes burning with rage.

"And my leg? Did you care when it hurt?"

Jenna crawled toward Kevin, wrapping her arms around him.

"Don't blame her, Kevin… It's my fault," she whispered.

Her voice trembled as she confessed, "That night, I spiked the drink I gave you. But Ayla drank it instead."

Kevin's expression froze.

"What did you just say?"

Jenna cowered under his glare, tugging at his sleeve nervously.

"I'm sorry… I just love you so much. I didn't mean to hurt Ayla…"

Her meaning was undeniable.

That night, the night I couldn't remember, I was with someone else.

Kevin's gaze darkened as he scanned the room, his eyes falling on his group of friends.

Grabbing me by the hair, he yanked me close.

"Which one of them was it, Ayla?"

Pain shot through my scalp as I struggled against his grip, my nails scratching his face in the process.

Wiping the blood from his cheek, Kevin smiled—a chilling, twisted smile.

"Your lover must have some guts to challenge a Gray. Thanks to him, Ayla, you're going to play another game."

Without hesitation, he shoved me into the crowd.

I fell to my knees, the sharp pain shooting through my leg bringing tears to my eyes.

He stood over me with a cruel smirk.

"You're dirty now. This time, I won't ask my friends to show you any mercy."

The Grays were powerful, and this wasn't the first time Kevin had played such a game.

The onlookers quickly stepped back, unwilling to get involved.

As the sound of footsteps closed in behind me, I clenched my fists and forced myself to stand.

I scanned the crowd desperately, searching for Lucas.

But Kevin and Lucas looked so alike—it was impossible to tell them apart.

Every time I grabbed Kevin's sleeve, he'd laugh and push me back into the crowd.

"Ayla, stop looking for me," he sneered. "I don't want you anymore."

On my final attempt, I pushed through the crowd and flung open the door, crashing into someone's arms.

The familiar scent of sandalwood washed over me, and my tense body finally relaxed. My legs gave out beneath me.

Lucas caught me instinctively, holding me steady.

Kevin, who had been watching from the sidelines, burst into laughter.

"Ayla, wrong again," he taunted. "That's my brother."

Lucas looked down at my disheveled state, the warmth in his eyes vanishing.

In its place was a cold, piercing sharpness.

Kevin, oblivious to the shift in Lucas's demeanor, strolled over lazily.

"You're such a pain. Why do you always mix us up?"

He smirked, glancing at Lucas.

"Hey, want to join in? She can't tell the difference anyway. Isn't she into two-timing? Let her have her fill."

Lucas shrugged off his jacket and draped it over me, his movements deliberate and calm. Then, he slowly rolled up his sleeves and walked toward Kevin.

Kevin chuckled, still full of bravado.

"What about that guy she was with the other night?" he jeered. "Where'd he go? Why isn't he stepping up now?"

Lucas stopped in front of him, his expression unreadable.

With a casual motion, he reached out and grabbed a fistful of Kevin's hair.

Kevin's cocky grin twisted into a scream as Lucas forced him to his knees.

The room fell silent except for Kevin's pained cries.

Lucas's voice was low and steady, carrying a chilling undertone.

"Her man is here."

He leaned in closer, his smile razor-sharp.

"Do you have something to say?"

Everyone Says Lucas Gray Is Polite and Charming—But How Could a Man Who Took the Gray Corporation to the Top Be Easy to Reason With?

That night, I saw Lucas lose his temper for the first time.

The moment it happened, his assistant had already led security in to clear the room.

With his usual calm demeanor, Lucas addressed the guests. "Apologies, this is a private family matter. I'll have to ask you all to step outside for now while I handle it."

Kevin, still dazed from the sudden turn of events, looked up at his brother in disbelief.

"Lucas… what are you talking about?"

The security team took over, holding Kevin down as Lucas let go of him. Lucas pulled out a handkerchief, meticulously wiping his hands without so much as glancing at Kevin.

"The person I just spent hours calming down—this is how you treat her?" His tone was cold, detached.

Kevin's gaze darted to my face, realization dawning on him. His expression turned ashen.

"So… it was you that night," he stammered.

"Lucas, listen to me…" Kevin's voice grew frantic. "She has face blindness! She mistook me for you! You're not the type of man who'd settle for being mistaken for someone else!"

I felt my chest tighten, and I instinctively looked away, guilt gnawing at me.

Lucas tossed the handkerchief aside, his voice eerily calm.

"If Ayla can't tell us apart, then maybe I should solve that problem for her. Let's start by leaving a scar on your face. That should make things easier."

Kevin froze, staring at Lucas in shock.

"Lucas, you can't be serious…"

But when he realized Lucas wasn't joking, panic set in.

"Lucas! You can't just ignore the rules! Ayla's my girlfriend!" he shouted.

Lucas tilted his head slightly, as if Kevin had just told him a joke.

"Rules?" he said, his voice laced with amusement.

"I don't believe in rules—whether it's business or love."