Flash Marriage: In His Eyes-Chapter 281: Restrain

–Alyssa–

After tasting Smirnoff vodka with ginger ale at my pre-party, I bought a ridiculous number of cases. Since it’s not legal for me to purchase alcohol, my bodyguards handled it. Of course, they had to check with my brother or Dad first. After getting their confirmation, they bought whatever I asked for—no questions, no judgment. That’s the privilege part of my life I never really asked for, but it always shows up anyway.

We headed back to the apartment with the bodyguards trailing behind us. Gina kept whispering about how hot they were. I barely reacted. They look fine, I guess. Everything feels a little muted lately.

It was supposed to be my first proper drinking night with Gina. We ordered takeout—not just for us, but for the staff too. There were more bodyguards in the house than usual, probably because Lore wasn’t around. The absence sat heavier than the extra security ever could.

We ate, watched movies, and drank. Gina passed out almost immediately—she definitely underestimated how strong the vodka was. I stayed awake, eyes glued to the screen. A Japanese movie from Studio Ghibli played next. Grave of the Fireflies.

It was beautiful. Painfully beautiful. The art, the story—it hurt in a quiet, lingering way. Gina and I cried, really cried. After that, I drank more and ate less, switching to a comedy as if laughter could undo heartbreak. Gina eventually crawled into bed, completely drunk, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a half-empty bottle.

Somehow, drinking feels good. Too good. Like I could do this every day and forget about Lore. Maybe that’s the solution. Maybe I should ask Livana to let him go—really let him go. He doesn’t need to stay tied to me. He can oversleep. He can disappear. He can live in other houses. Do whatever he wants. God knows how long he’s been trapped underground before all this.

I reached for my phone and called my brother. No answer. I called again. And again. He finally picked up.

"Alyssa," Damon said coldly. "You know what time it is. Is this an emergency?"

That tone used to scare me when I was younger. Tonight, I didn’t care.

"I want to talk to Liva."

A pause.

Then Livana’s voice came through—warm, soft, grounding.

"Hey, Aly. What’s the matter, baby?"

"Sis..." My voice wobbled. "You sent Lore here to protect me, right?"

"Uh-huh?"

"I think..." I let out a small, broken laugh. "I think it’s enough. I mean—give the man a break. Let him live how he wants. He doesn’t need to stick with me. He can have fun. God knows how long he’s been confined underground..."

"Okay," Livana said gently. "I can end his contract."

I nodded, even though she couldn’t see me. Relief washed over me first—thin and fragile. Then it shattered into pain. The kind that settles deep in your chest. The kind that hurts more because you asked for it yourself.

"Baby," she murmured, "stop drinking, alright? Go to sleep now."

"Mm. Good night."

"Good night. I love you."

"Love you too."

I hung up and set my phone aside. I grabbed some tissues, wiping away tears and sniffles, feeling ridiculous and hollow all at once. 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

But even then—

Even after everything—

All I wanted was to be with him.

–Lore–

I stared at the ceiling of an unfamiliar place—a clean, expensive one-bedroom condo that smelled faintly of citrus cleaner and last night’s perfume. Theresa’s place. She’s twenty-one, brilliant, intense, and unapologetically forward. We’d had sex—consensual, adult, reckless—and she’d been eager for more.

My body was exhausted. My mind wasn’t.

I swung my legs off the bed, bare feet touching the cold marble floor. Wrappers lay discarded near the edge of the rug, our clothes tangled together like proof of bad decisions and good chemistry. I gathered everything methodically, tied it off, and dropped it into the trash bin in the bathroom. Habit. Precision. No mistakes allowed—not in work, not in life.

I checked my bag. No trackers. No unfamiliar weight. Satisfied, I dressed, locked the unit behind me, and drove home.

It was already past two in the morning when I arrived.

Security waved me in.

"Aren’t you home late, Lore?" Jerome teased from the booth.

"For once, yeah," I replied dryly, locking the car. "Had a night."

He nodded, then added, "By the way, Alyssa and her friend—are drunk. The maids cleared the bottles, but she was still trying to pour another."

I frowned. "That girl!" I clicked my tongue.

I’d only been gone a few hours.

I headed upstairs and found Alyssa asleep on the carpet down her bed, curled into herself while a movie played softly. Empty bottles were gone, but the smell of alcohol lingered.

I sighed, pinched the bridge of my nose, then carried her gently into my room instead. I hadn’t even set my bag down when she stirred, crawling toward the bathroom and retching.

I held her hair back, steadying her.

"Easy," I muttered. "You’re going to hate yourself tomorrow."

After she rinsed and leaned against the sink, I noticed her eyes—red, swollen.

"Were you crying?" I asked quietly, handing her a towel.

She broke instantly.

"We watched Grave of the Fireflies," she sobbed. "The kids—Lore, they—"

I pulled her into a hug, firm but careful.

"Okay. That movie should come with a warning," I said dryly.

She laughed weakly through tears, then looked up at me.

"Did you... sleep with her?"

I didn’t lie.

"Yes."

She nodded slowly. "It must be hard. Living like this. Not normal."

"It is," I admitted.

She hugged me again, tighter this time. Her scent—soap, alcohol, something distinctly her—hit me hard.

"I’m fine," she said, even as her body sagged.

She fell asleep mid-sentence.

I carried her to the bed and laid her down carefully, covering her with the sheets. I turned to leave for the couch when she murmured my name.

"Lore..."

I froze.

Her soft voice sent fine shivers through me, electricity dancing along my nerve endings. Just her scent was enough to leave me instantly half aroused.

"Y-Yeah..." I swallowed hard, my throat dry, desire tightening in my chest. I wanted her so much.

She reached for me, fingers curling into my shirt.

"Am I... not enough?"

That question hit harder than any blade.

I sat on the edge of the bed, cupping her face gently.

"You’re more than enough," I said quietly. "That’s exactly why I won’t cross lines I can’t uncross."

I looked down at the growing bulge in my pajamas and let out a slow breath. If she only knew how my body reacted to every touch she made. Being a man is this hard.

She searched my face, eyes glassy but sincere.

"You don’t know what you do to me," I added under my breath. "You’re not someone I’d ever treat lightly."

"Why am I not enough..."

"You are more than enough..." I murmured, lowering my face and brushing my lips against hers—soft, tentative, like I was afraid of what it might awaken. I pulled her closer, and she didn’t hesitate, clinging to me with surprising strength, as if letting go would make everything fall apart.

"Uh—Aly," I whispered, tapping her arm gently.

She held on tighter, stubborn and desperate, like she was afraid I’d disappear if she loosened her grip. Every instinct in me screamed to give in, to kiss her again the way she wanted—but reality slammed into me just in time. I’d been careless before. I couldn’t be now. Not with her.

"Lore," she pleaded softly. "Kiss me like before."

"I can’t," I said, my voice rough.

Instead, I buried my face against her shoulder, breathing her in, grounding myself there. She trembled—and then she cried. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe it was everything she hadn’t said.

I held her anyway.

Pinned between wanting and restraint, I stayed still, arms braced, jaw clenched, letting the moment pass without crossing the line. It hurt. God, it hurt—but some things mattered more than desire.

And this was one of them.

"What’s this... hard thing?" she murmured softly, still sniffing.

"Shh. Just sleep," I whispered.

She hesitated, then asked in a small, fragile voice, "Tell me... why don’t you like me?"

"It’s not that I don’t," I said quietly. "I want you... badly." I leaned close, my voice barely there. "But you’re not meant to be someone’s convenience. You’re meant to be treated like a princess. Respected like a queen. And cherished—properly." I paused, lowering my voice. "Worshipped like a goddess."

"R-really?" Her voice trembled.

"Do you think I’d hold you like this if I didn’t care?" I added softly. "I’ve been holding myself back this whole time."

Her body slowly relaxed. The tension left her shoulders, her arms slackened, her breathing evening out. I let out a long breath and carefully pulled away, forcing myself to stand when every instinct told me not to.

I wiped her tears, tucked the blankets around her, and moved quietly around the room. From her small vanity fridge, I took one of those chilled gel masks she liked and gently placed it over her eyes, like a makeshift sleeping mask. She sighed, already half-asleep.

"Rest," I murmured.

I covered her properly, made sure she was warm, then turned toward the bathroom. I paused there for a second, resting my hand against the doorframe, collecting myself.

"Yeah," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head. "Get it together."

Then I closed the door quietly, leaving her room in silence—heart pounding, feelings very much awake, and restraint doing all the heavy lifting.