Page 55 of Lured By Shadows

And emotionally unraveling. But mostly surprised.

I wanted to keep going. I wanted to ask everything. How long he’d known. How involved he was with my ma’s job. Why hadn’t he told me from the start instead of letting me build fantasies out of half-truths and optimism? I wanted to yell at him for making me feel wanted, only to realize I’d been standing inside something planned all along.

But I never got the chance.

Footsteps echoed down the hall, voices approaching and slicing through the fragile moment before it could settle into anything worse. Whatever had started between us fractured instantly, leaving me clinging to scattered thoughts while I tried to gather myself again.

The door flew open with dramatic timing, and Rupert burst in with his arms spread wide as though he’d just stepped onto a stage.

“Hello, everyone! You may resume your activities now that I’m here,” he announced loudly, punctuating it with a wink.

Oh, thank God.

Another thirty seconds and I genuinely might’ve had a breakdown at the dinner table.

There was something effortlessly magnetic about Rupert that pulled attention toward him no matter how hard you tried to stay detached. Just behind him stood someone taller and far more composed, and I didn’t need an introduction to know exactly who it was.

Soroush.

He was the opposite of his counterpart in nearly every way. Quiet where his partner was loud. Steady where his lover was chaos. His calm presence softened the entire room somehow. Rupert practically skipped toward the table, grabbing Soroush’s hand without hesitation and tugging him along while their fingers laced together as though it were second nature. Even their affection somehow looked aesthetically coordinated.

Soroush didn’t resist, his small smile carrying the ease of someone long accustomed to his boyfriend’s energy.

“I’m glad you could finally join us, Rupert,” Julius said from the edge of the table, a faint smirk breaking through his otherwise stoic expression.

“Being busy has its perks,” Rupert replied with a laugh, sticking his tongue out in a way that should’ve looked ridiculous but somehow worked on him. “And terrible downsides.”

It made me pause. I’d imagined Eunice and Julius running their home like quiet forces of nature, all refined grace and unspoken authority. But Rupert’s easy teasing, paired with Julius’s visible amusement, painted something far more layered. Less untouchable. It made me wonder if I’d misunderstood the Scarbroughs completely… or if they were simply experts at becoming different versions of themselves depending on the room.

Still, I couldn’t ignore the shift beside me. Culver moved closer again, his presence slipping back into the space I’d been trying so hard to keep neutral. My gaze dropped automatically to his hand resting along the back of my chair. He wasn’t touching me, but the placement felt purposeful anyway, claiming space without direct contact.

Across the room, everyone had someone.

Julius and Eunice existed inside their own restrained version of affection, subtle but unmistakable. Anna leaned naturally into Liam while his steady presence softened her sharper edges. Rupert and Soroush were openly affectionate, unconcerned with who noticed. Every seat at the table seemed to have its counterpart.

From the outside, someone probably would’ve looked at Culver and me the same way. Another mismatched pair somehow balancing each other out. But the thought unraveled the second I let it sink deeper. I wasn’t here because of fate or chance or some ridiculous storybook connection. I’d been placed here intentionally, slotted neatly into something already mapped out for everyone else.

Whatever fragile hope I’d been holding onto faded quietly after that.

I shifted my chair slightly closer to my ma, needing some sort of grounding even while anger still twisted painfully inside me. The scrape against the floor should’ve gone unnoticed, but Culver caught it instantly. His gaze flicked toward me, his pupils widening for only a fraction of a second before his expression smoothed flat again.

I thought he’d ignore it. I was wrong.

His hand slipped beneath the edge of my chair, and without saying a word, he pulled me smoothly back toward him. The movement was controlled, leaving our seats nearly touching again, our bodies aligned close enough for heat to gather between us.

Damn him.

And damn my body for leaning toward him anyway.

He really was playing the perfect son, pretending he cared about me at all, and I had no choice but to let him guide everything exactly where he wanted it. I refused to look at him. I pretended not to notice our shoulders brushing together or the warmth building between us.

Then his hand wrapped around me.

His fingers brushed softly along my back, sparks racing upward before his hand slid lower to my hip and squeezed gently at the flesh there. I bit my lip hard to stop any embarrassing sound from escaping while he pulled me flush against his body.

My hand shot out automatically to steady myself, landing—of course—directly on his thigh.

I heard him sigh softly above me. Then came the quiet chuckle.