Falling for the Goddess

Is It Because You Lack Technique?

Adrian Blake drove off, his brow furrowed, jaw clenched, and his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes held a dangerous glint of anger. The nearly deserted midnight roads sped by as he slammed on the gas, racing forward without a clear destination. He didn't return to his South City apartment. Instead, at a crossroads, he turned the car around and aimed straight for Charmed Night, his brow still drawn in frustration.

Arriving at the club, he tossed his keys to a valet, ordered a bottle of liquor, and locked himself in their private suite.

By 7 a.m., Lucas Graves was jolted awake by a phone call. Barely opening his eyes, he heard the Charmed Night manager's panicked explanation: Adrian Blake had shown up around three in the morning, stayed in the private suite, and hadn't left. They didn't dare disturb him but were worried about what could have happened and thought it best to notify Lucas Graves.

Hearing that it was Adrian Blake, Lucas Graves's drowsiness vanished instantly. Adrian, known for his usual self-control, had gone to a club alone in the middle of the night and had been drinking non-stop until morning. Something was wrong.

Accepting the inevitable, Lucas Graves threw on some clothes and drove to Charmed Night.

When he arrived, the club was quiet, the cleaning crew bustling around while the night staff changed shifts. The manager greeted him at the door.

"Mr. Graves, thank you for coming."

"What exactly happened?" Lucas Graves asked as they headed up to the third floor.

"Around 3 a.m., Mr. Blake arrived and ordered several bottles of wine. He went into the private suite alone, didn't say much, and stayed until morning. I checked in a few times, but he said nothing, just waved me away."

"By daybreak, the cleaning staff saw him still lying there, barely moving, and they couldn't tell if he was awake or asleep. We were worried something might be wrong, so we called you."

The manager knew Adrian Blake to be composed and rarely indulgent. If he was at Charmed Night, it was typically in the company of friends. Coming alone, especially in the middle of the night, and drinking heavily was uncharacteristic. Wanting to avoid any issues, they had reached out to Lucas Graves.

Listening to the explanation, Lucas Graves reached the third floor, his brow creased. This wasn't like Adrian Blake.

He stopped outside the suite and instructed, "Wait here; I'll call you if I need anything."

The manager nodded, leaving Lucas Graves to enter alone. The heavy scent of alcohol filled the air. Adrian Blake was slouched on the sofa, his eyes half-closed. Hearing the door open, he slowly lifted his gaze.

"You're here," he said, his voice hoarse and rough, bloodshot eyes meeting Lucas Graves's.

Lucas Graves was taken aback. This wasn't the cool-headed, self-assured Adrian Blake he knew.

"Adrian, what happened?"

He glanced around the room - empty bottles were strewn everywhere. Adrian straightened up slightly, pressing his fingers to his temples. His head throbbed, and he seemed lost in his thoughts.

Pouring him a glass of water, Lucas Graves pressed, "Why did you come here to drink alone?"

Adrian's gaze clouded, his lips tightening. How could he explain it? That he'd been drugged and drawn into an encounter he never intended?

Anger from last night resurfaced. It wasn't just about the betrayal but the method she had used to manipulate him into letting his guard down. For a brief moment, he had thought Sara was different. He should never have softened, never allowed himself to waver.

When Adrian offered no response, Lucas Graves pulled out his phone, intent on calling Eric Thorne. But before he could dial, Adrian stood up.

"Let's go," Adrian Blake said, leaving.

Lucas Graves followed him out to the car. Adrian Blake broke the silence as they reached the intersection, "Head to the South City apartment."

Shocked, Lucas Graves glanced over. The South City apartment, not the villa? Had he and Sara Hart fought?

Keeping his thoughts to himself, he took the next turn toward South City.

In the back seat, Adrian Blake pulled at the collar of his shirt, and Lucas Graves, watching through the rearview mirror, caught a glimpse of a red mark on Adrian Blake's neck.

It was unmistakably a scratch near his collarbone, likely made by fingernails. The sight left Lucas Graves stunned. Adrian wasn't the type to be reckless. Yet here he was, with a mark in a place far too telling to ignore.

Upon reaching the apartment, Lucas Graves insisted on helping him upstairs despite Adrian's reassurances that he could manage. Following him inside, he headed to the kitchen and poured him a cup of honey water.

"Was it... Sara?" he asked, gesturing to the scratch on Adrian's neck.

Adrian turned toward a mirror and, seeing the red mark, felt his jaw clench. When Lucas mentioned Sara, his eyes grew even colder, leaving no room for questions.

Trying to make sense of it, Lucas Graves finally voiced what was on his mind. "Did you two argue?"

Adrian's icy gaze fell on him, his silence confirming it. But the quiet only fueled Lucas's curiosity.

"Or... was it because your technique isn't up to par?"

Receiving a freezing glare, Lucas Graves quickly stopped, muttering, "Hey, it's just, you're new to all this... first time's bound to be a little rough..."

Adrian rose and headed to the bathroom, ignoring him entirely.

The hot water washed over Adrian in the shower, but memories from the previous night flooded back unbidden. His skin burned, a fierce tension he couldn't shake. Turning the water to cold, he took a steadying breath, eyes shadowed by a lingering anger.

---

At the villa, dawn was breaking when Sara finally managed to get up, each movement a sharp reminder of her pain. She dragged herself to the bathroom, where the hot water did nothing to soothe her aching body or swollen eyes.

She hadn't slept at all, her face puffy and sore, and her heart ached just as deeply.

Her gaze fell on the messy bed. She hadn't the energy to tidy it. Aunt Alice would see it eventually, but Sara no longer cared.

Gathering her laptop and study materials, she pulled on a long dress, hoping it would hide the bruises. Downstairs, Aunt Alice was preparing breakfast when she turned and froze at the sight of her.

"Madam, you—"

Sara's face was a ghostly pale, her eyes swollen, her lips devoid of color.

Barely able to lift her voice, she said hoarsely, "Aunt Alice, I'll be staying at the university for a few days. There's a lot going on."

Before Aunt Alice could respond, she turned, the door shutting quietly behind her as she walked away from the home that had, for a short time, felt like it might hold a place for her.