Isla could feel Lucas watching her, his gaze burning into her back as she moved through the reception hall. She refused to look at him. Refused to let him see just how much his presence was affecting her.
Emma's wedding should have been the perfect distraction. A night of celebration, laughter, and forgetting the past. But instead, it felt like a noose tightening around her neck.
Because she knew.
She knew Lucas was starting to suspect something.
And if she wasn't careful, he would figure it out.
Claire forced a smile as she reached Emma, who was sitting at the head table, swirling the champagne in her glass instead of drinking it.
"Are you okay?" isla asked, lowering her voice.
Emma startled, as if she hadn't even realized iska was there. "Of course. Why wouldn't I be?"
Isla didn't buy it. "You're acting strange. You should be the happiest person in this room, but you seem… distracted."
Emma's smile wavered. "It's just been a long day."
Isla wanted to believe her. Wanted to let it go. But something wasn't right.
Before she could press further, someone cleared their throat behind her.
Lucas.
Isla stiffened but didn't turn around.
"isla," his voice was low, controlled, but she knew him well enough to hear the edge beneath it. "We need to talk."
She forced herself to stay calm. "I'm busy."
"It can't wait."
Emma looked between them, sensing the tension. "I'll be fine, Isla ," she said, giving her a small smile. "Go."
Isla hesitated, but Lucas didn't give her a choice. He placed a hand on her lower back, guiding her away from the crowd.
The moment they were alone, she turned on him. "What do you want?"
Lucas crossed his arms. "I want the truth."
Her stomach twisted. "About what?"
His gaze locked onto hers, sharp and unyielding. "About you."
Islas pulse pounded. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do," he said, stepping closer. "Something is going on with you, and I want to know what it is."
She swallowed hard. "You don't get to ask me that. Not after everything."
Lucas exhaled sharply. "Dammit,isla You think I don't know when you're lying? I know you. I can see it in your eyes. You're hiding something from me."
Panic flared in her chest. She needed to shut this down before he dug any deeper.
"You lost the right to question me a long time ago," she said coldly. "Whatever you think you know, let it go."
His jaw tightened. "I can't."
Isla clenched her fists. "Then that's your problem."
She turned to walk away, but Lucas grabbed her wrist, his touch sending a jolt of heat through her.
"isla—"
"Let. Me. Go."
For a moment, he hesitated. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he released her.
Isla didn't look back as she walked away, but she could still feel him watching her.
Lucas wasn't giving up.
And that terrified her.
Because if he kept pushing, if he kept digging—
He would uncover the truth.
And she couldn't let that happen.
Lucas had never been a patient man, but isla was testing every last shred of control he had left.
She was hiding something. He was sure of it.
And now that suspicion had settled in his gut, there was no way in hell he was letting it go.
He watched as she disappeared into the crowd, her back stiff, her head held high—classic isla. She always acted like she was untouchable, like nothing could shake her. But Lucas knew better. He had seen the cracks.
Tonight, there was something different in her eyes—something she was desperately trying to keep hidden.
And damn it, he needed to know what it was.
He downed the rest of his drink, barely registering the burn of whiskey before setting the glass down with more force than necessary. His jaw clenched as he scanned the room, trying to think.
Madeline stood a few feet away, watching him with an expression that set his teeth on edge.
Of course. Madeline.
She had been hovering all night, conveniently showing up when she wasn't wanted. Lucas had never trusted her, and her sudden reappearance only made things worse.
As if sensing his attention, she tilted her head, a smirk playing at her lips. She raised her glass in a silent toast before taking a slow sip, her eyes never leaving his.
Lucas forced himself to look away. He had bigger things to worry about.
Like isla.
His feet moved before he could think better of it. He pushed past guests, his focus set on one thing—finding her.
She wasn't at the bar.
Not on the dance floor.
Where the hell did she go?
His frustration grew, and he nearly turned back—until he caught a glimpse of her through the open doors leading to the terrace.
Alone.
Perfect.
Lucas stepped outside, the cool night air doing nothing to cool his temper.
She must have sensed him coming because she stiffened before turning around.
"Following me now?" Isla's voice was smooth, controlled—too controlled.
Lucas ignored the jab. "Why are you running?"
She scoffed. "I'm not running."
"Really? Because every time I try to talk to you, you disappear."
Her eyes flashed. "Maybe that should tell you something."
Lucas took a step closer. "I'm not going anywhere, isla. And I know you. You're hiding something, and I want to know what it is."
A flicker of something—fear?—crossed her face before she masked it with a cold glare.
"You don't know anything."
Wrong. He knew a lot.
He knew that she had been avoiding him since she came back. That she had flinched when he touched her earlier. That there was something guarded in her eyes whenever their gazes locked.
"Tell me the truth," he said, voice low. "What's going on?"
Isla turned away, gripping the railing as she stared at the city lights. "You don't get to question me, Lucas. Not after everything you did."
The words hit like a punch to the gut.
"I know I screwed up," he admitted. "But this isn't about the past. This is about right now."
She let out a humorless laugh. "That's where you're wrong. Everything is about the past. No matter how much we pretend otherwise."
Lucas clenched his jaw. He didn't want to fight about history—not now.
"What happened between us doesn't change the fact that you're keeping something from me," he said. "And I don't believe for a second that it's just about what I did."
Isla turned to face him then, her expression unreadable. "You think you know me so well, Lucas?"
"I do."
She shook her head. "Then tell me—what do you think I'm hiding?"
He studied her, his pulse steady but his thoughts racing. He had theories. Hell, he had plenty of theories.
But islawasn't just a puzzle to solve. She was Claire. And he had already lost her once.
"If you wanted to tell me, you would," he finally said. "But whatever it is, isla—it matters. And whether you like it or not, I'm going to find out."
Her lips parted, but before she could speak, the terrace door swung open.
Emma.
She looked between them, her brows furrowed. "Everything okay?"
Isla was quick to recover. "Of course. Just getting some air."
Emma didn't seem convinced, but she let it go. "Well, in that case, you won't mind if I steal Lucas for a moment."
Lucas hesitated. He wasn't ready to let Isla go—not yet.
But her guarded expression told him that no matter what he said, she wasn't going to tell him anything tonight.
Not willingly.
"Go ahead," isla said smoothly, stepping back. "I was just leaving."
Lucas watched her walk away, tension coiling in his chest.
This wasn't over. Not even close.
And if he had to push, dig, and tear through every wall she built—
He would.