Chapter 4 THE THOUGHT OF YOU

Cyrus watched as the color drained from Charlotte's face, curiosity gnawing at him. Who could she possibly be running from, and why was she so frightened? He found himself wanting to know more, wanting to protect her. There was something about her innocence that struck a chord in him.

He considered pressing further, but then stopped himself. She was no one to him, he reminded himself, and the last thing he needed was to get entangled with a woman. His focus was on expanding his company worldwide, adding more museums to his collection, and indulging his love of art.

He told her not to worry and suggested they continue eating. Dinner passed in awkward silence, and afterward, they retreated to their separate rooms.

Cyrus's room was next to Charlotte's, and later that night, he heard muffled noises coming from her direction. Was she talking to someone? He hesitated at her door, debating whether to knock or simply mind his own business. His heart won out, and he gently opened the door to find Charlotte thrashing in her sleep, her hands flying up as she screamed, "Leave me, don't kill me!"

He rushed to her side, trying to calm her down, and noticed tears streaming down her face. It hit him harder than he expected; he really had it bad for this woman. Seeing her in pain pierced his heart in a way he wasn't prepared for.

Charlotte gradually opened her eyes and, upon seeing him, hugged him tightly. They fell asleep together, her body trembling in his arms.

Three days had passed since that night, and they hadn't spoken about it. Cyrus had left the next morning before she woke up and had been busy with work ever since, relying on his maids to take care of her.

As he drove home one evening, his phone rang, and he saw his mother calling. He considered not picking up, but after a moment's hesitation, he answered.

"Cyrus, dear, it's been too long! I want to have dinner with my son," his mother said, her tone warm but insistent.

Cyrus thought of Charlotte, still staying at his house, and declined immediately. "Not now, Mother. I'm busy."

But his mother wasn't having it. "I'm coming over for dinner tomorrow, and that's that," she said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

He ended the call with a sense of dread. What would his mother think of Charlotte? And how would Charlotte handle meeting his mother?

When Cyrus pulled into his driveway, he was lost in thought. He hadn't anticipated his mother inviting herself over, and now he had to figure out how to handle the situation.

As he stepped into the living room, he was struck by the sight of Charlotte, who was entranced by one of his most treasured art pieces-a masterpiece he had discovered in a quaint German gallery. The soft light illuminated her features, making her look even more delicate and captivating.

"You like it?" he asked, his voice low and husky, betraying the sudden surge of interest he felt.

Charlotte's head jerked up, her eyes locking onto his with surprise. For a moment, they simply stared at each other, the air thick with tension.

Cyrus couldn't help but drink in the sight of her-her hair messy and undone, her lips parted in a soft gasp. She looked as if she'd just rolled out of bed, and yet she had never looked more captivating.

"I love it," she breathed, her voice barely audible. "I love art. I love painting."

Her words were like a siren's call, drawing him closer. He felt his resolve weakening, his desire to keep his distance crumbling.

"We should get you a change of clothes," he muttered, trying to sound detached despite the turmoil inside him.

Charlotte's gaze dropped, her cheeks flushing a delicate pink. She bit her lip, and Cyrus felt a twist of longing in his gut.

"I'll get you some clothes on my way back from work tomorrow," he growled, turning away before he did something reckless.

As he left the room, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was playing with fire, and that he was about to get burned.

The next morning, as Cyrus prepared to leave for work, he turned to Charlotte and dropped a bombshell. "My mother is coming for dinner tonight."

Her eyes widened in shock, and worry etched across her face. "Oh, I-I'll just stay in my room," she stammered.

But Cyrus had other plans. "No, you'll join us," he said, enjoying the sight of her mouth hanging open in protest.

He turned to leave, catching a glimpse of her dismay. He couldn't help but smile to himself as he walked out the door. Would his mother be happy that he was finally letting a woman back into his life? He quickly dismissed the thought. He wasn't doing this for his mother's sake, or for anyone else, for that matter. He was doing it because... well, he wasn't quite sure why, but he knew he wanted Charlotte by his side.

The thought sent a shiver down his spine, and he pushed it aside. He had a long day ahead and couldn't afford to be distracted. But as he walked to his car, he couldn't shake off the feeling that he was in for a wild ride.

That evening, as they sat at the dining table, Cyrus couldn't keep his eyes off Charlotte. She looked stunning in the dress he had picked out for her. The sound of the doorbell broke the spell, and he muttered "Mom" to himself as he quickly got up to greet her.

Charlotte followed him, her heels clicking softly on the floor. When he opened the door, he kissed his mother's cheeks and exchanged pleasantries before introducing her to Charlotte. "Mom, this is Charlotte," he said, trying to sound casual.

Charlotte greeted his mother politely, and she responded with a sly smile before hugging Charlotte. Cyrus could already imagine his mother playing matchmaker in her head. She had no idea who Charlotte was or where she came from, but that didn't seem to matter. She was already sold on her.

As they sat down for dinner, Cyrus could feel his mother's eyes on them, watching their every move. He knew she was thinking, "This is the one," and he wasn't sure if he was ready for that. But as he looked at Charlotte, he couldn't help but feel a sense of possibility. Maybe, just maybe, his mother was onto something.

Dinner was a mix of embarrassment and amusement, with his mother regaling Charlotte with funny stories about him, making him groan. But Charlotte's little giggles captivated him, and he found himself smiling along with her.

As dinner came to an end, Cyrus felt relieved. But then his mother dropped a bombshell. "Cyrus, I need you to attend an art exhibition on my behalf tomorrow night," she said, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

His heart sank. "Mom, do I have to?"

"Yes, dear, you do. And your cousin will be there too," she said, her expression sly.

Cyrus groaned inwardly. He despised his cousin-his manipulative nature, his self-entitled attitude, and his arrogance made Cyrus's skin crawl. They had clashed countless times, and he had no desire to spend time with him.

His mother continued, "You should bring your date along, dear." She smiled sweetly at Charlotte, who looked taken aback.

Cyrus just stared, his mind racing with mixed emotions. How could his mother do this to him? Did she really expect him to spend an evening with Charlotte and his toxic cousin?

"Mom, I don't know..." he started to protest, but she cut him off.

"Oh, it'll be fun, dear! You two can make a night of it. I'll leave you to discuss the details." With that, she got up and left, leaving Cyrus feeling trapped and unsure of what to do.