Craved by the Wrong Volkov-Chapter 239: Night visitor

Braelyn’s POV

The door clicked open then slowly creaked like whoever it was didn’t want to wake me. My heart slammed against my ribs so hard I was sure they could hear it.

I kept my eyes shut, breathing slow and even, pretending to sleep. Every nerve in my body screamed to look, to see who had been leaving primroses like quiet apologies every night, but I didn’t move yet without knowing their intentions.

The person stepped in, and light from the hallway flashed on me. I could feel them quietly watching from the door before it creaked again.

The door clicked shut again with a softness that somehow sounded louder than a slam.

Footsteps crossed the room. They were careful and slow. Despite the gentleness, I could tell the person was tired. The footsteps were neither rushed nor confident. The kind of walk that belonged to someone carrying too much. My toes curled under the covers as my curiosity increased.

I tracked him without seeing him. The faint rustle of clothing. A quiet shift of air. The soft clink of glass as something on the table was adjusted. It then came into place. The flowers, he wanted to change them.

He stopped there.

I imagined him standing over the vases, touching the petals, straightening a stem, maybe reading the cards one by one. Maybe deciding which ones to replace tonight.

Silence followed. The stretch was unbearable. He didn’t speak or make the slightest sound the entire time. I felt him turn towards, and hesitation filled his movements.

He just... stood there. I could feel his gaze on me. The longer he stared the more unsettling it felt.

It moved over my face like a touch before he ever reached for me, lingering on my closed eyelids, my mouth, the curve of my cheek. My toes curled under the sheet. My fingers twitched against the blanket.

Just open your eyes. My mind screamed but I stayed still. Footsteps moved again coming closer until the mattress dipped slightly as he sat on the edge of the bed. A strong masculine cologne which felt familiar in a way it my heart ached wrapped around me

My breath nearly betrayed me as it hitched for a moment. Luckily he didn’t find anything suspicious. He didn’t speak and just watched.

I could feel the heat of him, the faint scent of cedar and rain clinging to his clothes. My pulse roared in my ears, loud enough that I was sure the machines would pick it up.

Then, finally, his fingers traced my cheeks, rubbing them faintly like he wanted to feel my warmth. They brushed a strand of hair away from my face. His touch was feather-light like he was afraid I’d shatter beneath his touch.

My throat tightened. My chest ached.

Lucien... I wondered. Was he still scared from last time?

The thought came automatically. That kind of quiet intensity, that possessive stillness it felt like him.

Seconds stretched. Maybe minutes, then the warmth disappeared and the mattress lifted.

He was standing.

He was leaving.

’ No.’ My thoughts screamed. I couldn’t let him leave like that.

Panic shot through me before I could stop myself, I pushed upright, ignoring the protest in my muscles, and grabbed his arm.

"Luc.." The name died in my throat. His sleeve had shifted when I caught him and there it was. A small primrose tattoo inked into his skin. My breath hitched as my eyes travelled up his arm.

I knew that tattoo. I had traced the lines over a million times. My heart beat slowed as I slowly glanced up and met those eyes so similar to Lucien yet so different. Raphael...the name hung on my tongue.

Raphael froze just as I did, and for a long moment, we just stared at each other. There was this bitter disappointment knowing it wasn’t Lucien. Funny because a part of me knew it wasn’t Lucien. I have never revealed that I loved Primrose to Lucien. We weren’t that deep, yet I had a foolish hope.

I released a tired breath. Raphael was stunned at first, but his face slowly relaxed into a tired smile. I almost couldn’t recognise

He looked wrecked, far from the proud man I knew. Dark circles shadowed his eyes. Stubble lined his jaw like he hadn’t cared enough to shave. His clothes were neat, expensive as always, but they hung on him differently now like he’d lost weight he couldn’t afford to lose.

A tired, fragile smile curved his lips when he saw the recognition in my eyes.

"Sorry, I am not who you expected," he said softly, his voice rough and low. "I didn’t mean to wake you. I will let you have space," he said, yet he didn’t move.

My fingers were still wrapped around his sleeve. My heart was still trying to catch up.

"You..." My voice came out hoarse. "You’re the one who’s been coming." His gaze flicked briefly to the flowers, then back to me. Something vulnerable passed across his face before he could hide it.

"Yeah," he admitted quietly. "You love primroses. I cross-checked that they weren’t close to yellow chrysanthemum too," he added, laughing lightly, although it didn’t reach his eyes.

I swallowed, staring at this man who was a shadow of himself. "Why at night?" I asked curious why he couldn’t see me during the day.

His smile faltered, just a little. "I didn’t think you’d want to see me," he said. "And I guess I was right.." my heart squeezed. It was the second time I was mistaking Raphael with Lucien.

His eyes searched mine carefully, almost fearfully. "It is fine." A pause. Softer. "But I still wanted to see you."

The words settled heavily between us. I let go of his hand. "There was no need to be mysterious. I had to drink a large cup of coffee to catch the mysterious visitor." I said rolling my eyes.

"Sorry..." he muttered, then hesitated for a moment before taking a seat at the edge of the bed. "The doctor said you will be discharged soon", he said awkwardly, starting a conversation.

I sighed then nodded. "Yes." My voice trailed before adding. "Are you coming from home?" The word home felt weird on my lips.

He shook his head. "I come from work sometimes or a hotel close by I have been staying at.." he explained then hesitantly added

"I am avoiding the villa beside it is far from here." My brows furrowed.

"Why?" I quietly asked.

"I made Amelia move out. She threatened me with the regular blackmail, but I doubt she would do anything..." My eyes went wide. He sent Amelia out.

Raphael continued explaining. "She needs the Volkovs support to help the Sinclairs at the brink of bankruptcy. The guards told me she has been lingering at the villa."