Lara’s steps slowed without her permission.
Sothing in her chest tightened. It wasn’t attraction nor nerves. It was sothing else.
Like a thread had just tugged inside her ribcage. A pull. Quiet but undeniable.
The youngest Norse—Lucas —laughed at sothing Madeline said. And the sound hit her like an echo.
Because it was familiar, too familiar. Her pulse skipped. Why does that sound like—
She didn’t finish the thought.
She couldn’t. It made no sense.
Lucas looked up and their eyes t.
Ti didn’t stop. It thinned.
The noise around her dulled, like she’d slipped underwater. For a second, she felt like she was looking into a distorted mirror.
There was nothing similar in their features. Yes, they looked different. But there was sothing about him close enough that unsettled her.
The sa sharpness around the eyes, even though the color was different. The sa quiet watchfulness. The sa habit of observing before moving.
Her stomach twisted. Not out of fear nor discomfort, but the kind you feel when you walk into a place you’ve never been but sohow know the layout of.
Lucas frowned slightly. Like he felt it too. Like he was trying to place her.
Have we t before? His quiet gaze seed to be asking her.
Neither of them spoke, but the silence stretched until it was broken by a pleasant voice.
"Lara," Madeline called gently, "this is my youngest son, Lucas—"
"Lucas! Bro!" Layla cut in, loud and bright. She skipped across from their table and wrapped her arms around him dramatically. "I missed you! You got even more handso."
Layla’s timing was impeccable.
Lara blinked. The spell shattered. Noise rushed back in.
Lucas laughed, hugging her back easily.
Layla kissed Sumr’s cheek next. "And you. Still beautiful as ever. I heard you graduated early?"
Sumr straightened slightly. Pride flickered across her face.
"Yes. Board exams soon. Then I’ll start my practice, here."
"Of course you will," Layla said, sugar-coated.
Then Sumr’s eyes slid past her and stopped on Lara.
The smile didn’t disappear. But it changed. It thinned and beca asured.
Who the hell is she?
Her gaze swept Lara slowly, calculating and assessing. The halter dress. The straight posture. The calm expression. She looked confident without trying hard, without the nervous fidgeting.
She wasn’t performing. She simply stood there like she belonged beside the Norses.
That bothered Sumr more than anything.
Layla noticed it too and her jaw tightened.
First, Logan fussing over her. Then her mother, Madeline. Now, it was Lucas looking at her like that. Like he’d forgotten everyone else existed.
Layla’s nails dug into her palm.
’She is just a governess,’ she reminded herself. ’Just an ordinary staff that needed to be paid a salary.’
So why does she look like she owns the place?
Sumr tilted her head slightly.
"And this is...?" she asked.
The question sounded polite. But it landed like a challenge.
Like a border being drawn.
Around them, the other won subtly leaned in, full of curiosity. Their gazes were assessing and predatory.
Because in circles like this, every new woman was one thing first—competition!
"And this is...?" Sumr’s voice was light. She sounded polite, but edged like a thin blade.
Logan opened his mouth, ready to answer, but Lucas spoke first.
"This must be Lara."
The words slipped out naturally. Like he already knew. Like he didn’t need an introduction.
Everyone looked at him, including Lara.
"No, not Lara but Larissa Reyes." Layla corrected. "She is taking care of the little princess sitting beside my Mom."
Layla spoke loudly. She wanted everyone to hear Lara’s low background.
Lucas frowned, slightly thrown off by Layla’s comnts.
He wanted to scold her, but his gaze fell on Lara again.
He’d never seen her before. He was sure of it. And yet sohow he felt that she looked very familiar.
Lara did not reach out her hand and simply nodded to acknowledge him.
He looked like a mix of Leonard and Madeline’s best features, sharpened into one person. The sa commanding eyes, the sa calm confidence, but with a hint of gentleness that ca from the mother.
He was not as loud as Logan and not as taciturn as Liam, nor as intimidating as Ares. He looked steady and grounded.
Lucas stepped closer and wanted to shake her hands but felt sothing... off. Like walking into a room and sensing soone familiar before you ever saw their face.
Like catching a scent from childhood you couldn’t place.
Now that she was closer, it got clearer, but he couldn’t tell.
His gaze stayed on her longer than it should have.
Not because she was pretty, though she was.
Not because she stood out, though she did.
It was sothing deeper. Sothing instinctive.
His chest tightened.
What the hell is this? He muttered.
He didn’t even know her.
And yet her presence felt...utterly familiar! Like an old song he couldn’t rember the lyrics to.
The thought made his brows knit together.
They held eye contact again.
A strange stillness passed between them, like two strangers accidentally sharing the sa mory.
Then—
Layla stepped between them, deliberately.
Breaking the line of sight.
"Oh?" she laughed lightly. "Since when have you beco interested in a stranger, Lucas?"
Layla’s voice seed gentle, but it hit hard.
A few nearby guests smirked.
Lucas’ expression cooled.
"That’s rude," he said flatly.
Layla waved a hand. "Oh, don’t be so serious. I’m just joking."
Everyone knew she wasn’t.
Logan shot her an irritated look. "Layla."
"What?" she said innocently. "I’m just curious."
Her eyes slid to Lara. "So you’re Shay’s governess, right?"
She was placing a label on her.
Before Lara could answer, Layla continued smoothly.
"It must be hard, adjusting to... this environnt. These events can be overwhelming if you’re not used to them."
Layla gave her a sympathetic smile, a fake concern.
The implication was clear: You don’t belong here.
Sumr watched quietly, learning the rhythm.
Then added softly, "Yes... These gatherings can be intimidating. So many important people."
Her gaze flicked to Lara’s dress. It was not designer-flashy but simple and yet elegant.
"But you carry yourself confidently," she added.
Complint on the surface. Surprise underneath.
Like confidence didn’t match Lara’s supposed rank.
Lucas’ jaw tightened. He hated this tone. Thank heavens he did not grow up around it.
But Lara didn’t shrink. She didn’t fidget. Didn’t rush to explain herself.
She simply t their gazes calmly.
"Children are harder to manage than parties," she said evenly. "This is easy."
A few nearby guests chuckled.
Layla’s smile faltered.
Lucas almost smiled. She didn’t sound defensive. She sounded... steady and grounded.
Again—
That strange flicker of pride hit him.
Like watching soone you were rooting for without realizing it.
Why do I feel proud? It was ridiculous. I barely knew her.
Layla noticed. Of course, she noticed.
The way Lucas kept looking at Lara.
The way Logan hovered near her.
The way her mom kept calling her "child" with that soft voice reserved only for family.
Sothing ugly twisted in her chest.
Because of so random girl from nowhere? No. Absolutely not.
If Lara wanted to stay—
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