Morrison was seething. The jealousy burning in his chest climbed so fast he actually had to spin in place once, hands on his hips, just to physically vent the heat before he exploded.
But restraint had never been his strong suit.
He turned to Lilian and snapped—
"Do you want to team up with your brother and blacklist him?"
Lilian blinked. What?
Was he serious?
Apparently, yes.
He ant Leonardo. He ant actually blacklisting the Leonardo, just because she happened to say she liked him.
And knowing Dave—who also couldn’t stand Leonardo ever since he had a thing for Laurent—she knew Morrison might really be able to pull it off. Between MOS Corp. and Washington Co., the two families basically ran Burg Eltz’s entertainnt industry. Blacklisting a rising actor?
Not a problem. A phone call would do.
Her jaw dropped.
Literally.
Mouth open in an ’O’, she stared at him like he’d lost his mind.
"Are you insane?!"
And with that, she whirled around and stomped away, throwing him those words like a slap.
Morrison stepped forward and blocked her path.
"Where do you think you’re going?"
"A walk!" she snapped, not even looking at him.
He frowned, still not cooled down himself, but there was no way he was letting her wander off alone this late at night. Especially not when she was clearly upset—and when she looked that cute while angry.
So, grumbling under his breath, he followed her.
It didn’t take long for his strides to catch up with her. He reached out, pulled her into his arms from behind, and wrapped his arm tightly around her waist.
She struggled, of course.
As if she had a choice.
"Why the hell should we walk separately?" he muttered. "You’re mine, aren’t you?"
With that, he dragged her along the garden path, arm possessively wrapped around her like she was so precious treasure that had to be held or she’d vanish.
Lilian sighed. Resistance was pointless. His grip was iron-clad, and they were in public. If she scread, people might really think he was kidnapping her.
So she let him hold her—unwillingly.
They walked side by side under the dim garden lights, the shadows stretching long behind them. Morrison was still simring inside, like a dragon barely holding in its fire.
And then he asked, like he couldn’t take it anymore—
"Is Leonardo really that handso?"
Lilian groaned.
"You have eyes. Can’t you tell?"
She really didn’t want to talk about this. Not now, not ever, and definitely not with a man who looked like he might actually commit homicide over a celebrity crush.
With Karl, talking about Leonardo was lighthearted fun. They both admired him as fans, nothing more, and the conversation was easy, harmless.
But with Morrison?
Every word was a trigger. Every sentence was a potential landmine.
He didn’t talk—he interrogated.
And if he didn’t like the answer?
He threatened blacklists.
Honestly, how were they even having this conversation?
"Personally, I don’t think he’s that good-looking,"
Morrison declared, his voice dripping with disdain. "And frankly, he has zero charm."
Lilian rolled her eyes.
Here we go again.
Before she could reply, he shot her another pointed question.
"So... am I not handso?"
Lilian: "..."
She stared at him, speechless for a solid three seconds.
Oh, he was serious.
Dead serious.
Wanting to end this ridiculous and frankly childish line of questioning, she nodded hard.
"Yes. You’re handso. Very handso. Now can we drop it?"
And she ant it—he was handso. His charm wasn’t just skin-deep either. But to her, Morrison was real, tangible, soone she argued with and relied on, soone who made her laugh and cry.
Leonardo, on the other hand, was a celebrity crush. A faraway, glamorous figure she’d never et—mysterious, unattainable, and therefore always perfect in her mind.
But Morrison was here. And once soone beca a part of your daily life, the pedestal naturally crumbled.
Still, her answer seed to satisfy him, at least for now.
The two of them strolled around the garden in relative peace. Lilian even took the opportunity to return a few phone calls—one to her mother Tiffany, one to her father, and finally, one to Linda.
She gave them all the sa version of events about the breakup with Karl. Calm. Controlled. Reassuring.
Her parents didn’t say much. They simply told her to co ho soon.
Linda, on the other hand...
Linda nearly cried over the phone.
She was relentless in her attempts to speak up for her younger son, begging Lilian to give Karl another chance.
But with a certain soone’s icy expression looming right next to her—and his arm practically clamped around her waist—Lilian had no choice but to gently reject Linda’s pleas.
By the ti she hung up, she couldn’t help but laugh.
And then she turned to him, smirking mischievously.
"Hey. Why is your mom always setting up dates for your brother instead of you? Let guess—because you used to be such a playboy that she gave up on you?"
She giggled.
Big mistake.
Morrison, already annoyed by Linda’s persistent matchmaking for Karl, was not in the mood to be teased.
Before she could react, he scooped her up—just lifted her clean off the ground—and carried her straight toward the decorative lake ahead.
"W-What are you doing?!"
Lilian yelped, flailing in his arms.
Without answering, he set her right down on the narrow railing that lined the edge of the lake.
She shrieked, instantly throwing her arms around his neck in panic.
"Stop it! Don’t you dare—!"
"Say one more thing,"
Morrison said darkly, "and I’ll toss you in to feed the fish."
He didn’t look like he was joking.
Lilian clung to him tighter, completely silent now. Her heart was pounding.
Inwardly, she cursed him to the moon and back.
What the hell is wrong with this guy? Threatening people when he’s pissed?
He’d never acted like this before. Not during the six months they were together. Back then, he was patient. Gentle. Thoughtful.
But now?
Ever since they’d crossed paths again, he was petty, sharp-tongued, and occasionally just plain insane.
Of course, what she didn’t realize was this:
Back then, he didn’t care enough to get jealous.
But now that he did... every little thing mattered.
Thankfully, Morrison seed to regain so of his sanity after a few monts. He helped her down—but instead of letting her go, he pinned her lightly against the railing, hands on either side of her, leaning close.
Too close.
His dark eyes glead with a dangerous glint.
"Kiss ,"
he said.
"Or I’ll toss you right back up there."
His unreasonable demand still echoed in her ears.
Afraid he might actually haul her back onto the railing again, Lilian gave in—grudgingly.
She reached out, arms wrapping stiffly around his waist. Standing on tiptoe, she pressed her lips to his.
A kiss of reluctant surrender.
But there was still fire in her heart.
Annoyed by his outrageous behavior, she decided to bite him—just like he’d done to her so many tis before.
Her teeth nipped at his bottom lip, playful yet full of protest. Not hard. Not soft. Testing him.
She had no experience, but that didn’t stop her from trying to get back at him in the only way she could.
Yet to Morrison, every clumsy nibble, every shaky graze of her teeth, every hesitant flick of her tongue across his lips—wasn’t punishnt.
It was provocation.
It was maddening.
His breath hitched, desire flaring up like a match to gasoline.
With a low groan, he pulled her closer, arms tightening around her slender waist as he deepened the kiss—hot, hungry, unrestrained.
The cool night air around them, the quiet lapping of the lake, the moonlight catching on the water—none of it mattered.
All he wanted was her.
He didn’t know why he couldn’t stop.
Didn’t know why kissing her felt like the only thing that made sense anymore.
He just needed to feel her.
Hold her.
lt into her.
As if pressing their bodies together might sohow close the distance that had grown between their hearts.
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