That morning, Morrison had devoted himself entirely to her, barely thinking of himself. His heart had softened, and he no longer resisted. Out of Lilian’s sight, the bearded director gave him a subtle signal. Without a word, Morrison tilted his head and pressed a kiss to her cheek. Click—the cara captured it instantly.
Lilian’s eyes shot wide with shock.
"What are you doing?!"
Morrison shrugged and casually shifted the bla.
"Ask him," he said, nodding toward the photographer.
And so Lilian’s anger burned silently, unable to erupt. The rest of the shoot was relentless—Morrison took full advantage. He kissed her, held her close, wrapped his arms around her. Each mont left her both flustered and furious.
Finally, she thought it was over. But Morrison had other plans. He pulled her into his arms, one hand wrapping around her waist while the other lifted her chin. Without warning, his lips claid hers—forceful, insistent, leaving her with nowhere to escape.
"Mm—"
Lilian tried to protest, but his tongue invaded her mouth, hot and demanding. It swept over every inch of her lips, compelling her to respond.
When Morrison finally let go, Lilian was crying.
Not from sorrow—angry tears, the kind that ca when soone had completely flustered and humiliated you. She hadn’t even had ti to remove her makeup before storming out of the studio. Morrison wanted to follow, but the bearded director stopped him, signaling his assistant to gather Lilian’s things and escort her ho.
Then the director scolded Morrison, exasperated.
"What were you thinking? I only said you could kiss her once, just enough for a commorative shot! How did it turn into that?"
Morrison ran a hand through his hair, a mixture of frustration and longing.
"I couldn’t control myself... You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this..."
Later, Lilian was safely delivered ho by the assistant, while Morrison was sent back separately. As expected, his luggage had been left under the villa’s porch—he had been effectively evicted.
It was exactly as Morrison had anticipated. He didn’t push further. Standing under the porch, he spoke in a low, serious voice toward the house.
"I apologize for the kiss just now. Please believe I had no intention to disrespect you. I simply... missed you too much."
He continued, voice soft yet laden with aching longing.
"For over a year, every day, I’ve hoped to see you, to hold you close, to kiss you. You may not understand my actions, but for , it’s the only way to feel you truly exist beside ."
He stood there quietly, gazing toward the vibrant flowers in the yard, his loneliness and sorrow radiating in every word. He knew now wasn’t the ti for further intimacy—it could be misinterpreted—but he couldn’t restrain the urge to hold and kiss her. That was the only way he could feel her presence.
Over a year apart had been torture. They lived on the sa planet, yet he couldn’t see her. The hopelessness and anticipation had been unbearable. Finally, he had her near, and all he wanted was to hold her tight, to kiss her.
Inside, there was no response. Morrison finally bent down, picked up his travel bag, and spoke again, calm but firm.
"I’ll stay at a hotel. You’re still recovering, so eat sothing and rest. Call if anything cos up."
He paused, his voice softening.
"My number hasn’t changed—it’s still the sa as before."
Then he turned and left the villa.
Lilian had heard every word. Her heart raced, full of confusion. She had heard of his desire to make ands over the past year—Laurent had ntioned it. Even after going abroad, she’d kept in touch with Laurent, who occasionally brought up Morrison. He had tried to contact her multiple tis, sincerely, without pursuing anyone else during that year. Linda had even revealed that Morrison had told her if he couldn’t have Lilian, he would remain single for life.
She could feel the sincerity in his words, both past and present. Yet, the mory of that cold, heart-wrenching breakup still stung. She instinctively recoiled.
He had once given her unforgettable pain, so she didn’t stop loving him—she stopped herself from daring to love him. Afraid of being hurt again.
His unpredictability, the way promises could be broken without warning, made her wary. She believed that if she kept her distance, she could protect herself.
After a long morning of shooting, she was exhausted. She removed her makeup, took a hot shower, and collapsed onto the bed, drifting into a heavy, restless sleep.
She was awakened by the doorbell. A delivery man was there, carrying an order placed by a "Mr. Morrison."
Lilian accepted it and finally dialed his number, intending to thank him. She admitted he was thoughtful and attentive, a good lover in the past—he had cared for her as if she were the only person in the world.
But his phone was off. She tried several more tis—still no answer.
She didn’t know why he had shut it down. Later, as she worked on Bert’s company accounts on her computer, she kept making mistakes. Her mind kept wandering uncontrollably to troubling thoughts—all of them connected to him.
After leaving Lilian, Morrison had given the matter so thought. He didn’t go to a hotel as planned; instead, he headed straight to the airport. Knowing Lilian wouldn’t take care of herself, he had stopped at a restaurant to order delivery for her, specifying the ti it should arrive, before continuing on his journey to the airport.
Morrison chose to leave because he realized he couldn’t afford to rush things. He had underestimated his own self-control. He had thought that simply being near her—just seeing her, staying by her side—would be enough. But once he was there, he wanted more. He wanted to kiss her, to hold her, to feel her close.
Besides, during the break in the shoot, he had overheard her taking a phone call. She would be returning to her country in a few days—likely a call from tina, inviting her to
a.t for another cover shoot. Morrison decided he needed to prepare for that, which ant cutting his Arican trip short.
When Lilian called, he was already on the plane. Before takeoff, he had thought about calling her to tell her he was returning, and he had gotten her number from the bearded director. But he suspected she wouldn’t answer, and he certainly hadn’t expected her to call him. So he had switched off his phone and boarded.
When he landed at Burg Eltz and powered his phone back on, he found several missed calls from her. Imdiately, he dialed back, rushing to explain:
"Sorry, my phone was off because I was on the plane. I’ve returned ho."
On the other end, Lilian, already frustrated from not being able to reach him, unleashed a torrent of scolding.
"Morrison! How could you just co back and not tell ? Do you know I couldn’t sleep because I couldn’t reach you?!"
Instead of anger, Morrison felt a strange thrill. A small smile curved his lips.
"So worried about my safety?"
Her anger, he realized, wasn’t directed at him personally—it was concern disguised as frustration. Knowing this, he felt a rush of warmth. This short trip to Arica hadn’t been in vain. Even if all he had gained was a glimpse of her concern, it was enough.
Lilian, however, wasn’t about to let him feel pleased.
"I’m not worried about your safety! I just wanted to thank you for ordering the delivery for !"
With that, she hung up.
Morrison chuckled at the phone, shaking his head at his own overthinking. She wasn’t worried about him, yet the mont still made him feel... satisfied.
After landing, he returned to his residence, freshened up briefly, and threw himself into work. That evening, there was a banquet to attend. Bert would be there too. Dave, busy with family obligations, had asked Bert to attend in his stead. Bert, eager to establish connections in Burg Eltz, accepted willingly.
But the mont Bert saw Morrison, he couldn’t hide his glee. Glass in hand, he approached with a smirk.
"Morrison? I thought you were in Arica. Couldn’t handle the pressure and ca back early?"
Morrison replied with a simple, casual chuckle—"Heh."
Then, raising an eyebrow, he added lightly:
"Bert’s villa in Arica has quite the artistic vibe. Truly a designer’s ho."
Bert’s expression soured instantly.
"What do you an by that?"
"Exactly what you think I an," Morrison said lightly, turning to mingle with others, leaving Bert fuming.
Morrison’s ntion of Bert’s Arican villa confird he had been inside. Bert seethed at the realization. But still, he forced himself to retain so composure. He stepped outside the banquet hall, dialing Lilian to get the full story.
Lilian, realizing Morrison already knew, recounted the events honestly. She emphasized that Morrison had only co inside to avoid the rain, nothing else had happened. She also told him about the joint photoshoot, which had infuriated Bert on her end.
After ending the call, Bert lingered outside for a long ti, letting his anger simr. He knew that if he went back inside imdiately, he might confront Morrison violently.
He recalled Dave’s words from earlier—a subtle warning not to interfere with Lilian and Morrison. Dave had said they’d been apart for over a year; the suffering had lasted long enough. In tornting Morrison, they were also tornting Lilian. If Morrison was truly her rightful partner, why not let them end the cold war and be together?
A girl only had a few years of youth to enjoy. Better to let her bask in the care and affection of a man at the right age, Dave had concluded.
Bert understood. He realized that Dave had almost forgiven Morrison already, and ddling further would only complicate things.
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