4. A Dangerous Gamble

From the moment Lorena Levantes sat across from him, Miguel couldn’t help but be impressed.

Of course, he had long known what she looked like. He had seen her plenty of times—on newspaper pages, in the gossip columns of lowly magazines, at royal events held once or twice a year, and even at the cathedral. Her face was practically imprinted across all of Motrel.

But this—this was the first time he was seeing her up close, taking in every detail of her features.

And truly, he could understand why the world found her so captivating.

Her neck, long and slender like a deer’s, looked fragile enough that he could cradle it with one hand. Her large green eyes, round and luminous, gave off an air of gentleness, while the delicate curve of her jaw and the sharp bridge of her nose made her appear younger than she was.

Yet, what truly set her apart—what made her not a naïve young girl but a fully ripened woman—was the look in her eyes.

Dark. Cool.

A green marsh, deep and unreadable.

And right now, as the gazes of countless men collided against her from every direction, she paid no mind to any of them—only to him.

“We’ve met before, haven’t we?”

Without hesitation, the Duchess walked straight toward him.

“We have.”

Miguel played along, his voice measured.

The thrill that shot through him as she took her seat—this sharp, electric sensation—he was sure he wouldn’t forget it anytime soon.

Especially knowing that her husband was watching this exchange, his stare boring into them from across the room.

“I need a stray dog.”

Her voice was steady.

“I’m hunting a hound.”

Miguel tilted his head, intrigued.

“Oh?”

“For now, I figured I’d start with a one-night affair.”

His brows lifted ever so slightly.

Lorena Levantes had a rare talent—one that few possessed.

She knew exactly how to offer just enough—tantalizing, elusive hints—without giving anything away.

And in a mere handful of words, she had dragged up everything they had whispered to each other that night in the cathedral’s underground confessional.

‘What if you shared a bed with someone other than your husband?’

‘That sounds like you’re telling me to hire a whore.’

‘Now, now. Don’t be so extreme.’

‘…If a woman in Alborada ever seeks a partner for a reckless night, you can assume it’s me.’

A reckless night.

Miguel silently exhaled a breath of amusement.

She hadn’t misunderstood the invitation he had offered her that night.

He had assumed she had run away, terrified—like a small, frightened mouse.

But looking at her now, he realized something—she had left a door open all along.

It wasn’t difficult to deduce why she had come to Alborada now.

‘I want you.’

Miguel arrived at the answer in an instant.

A slow, knowing smirk tugged at his lips.

“Finally found you, my canary.”

The woman who had once belonged to another—cherished, protected.

Just as the engraving inside the ring had read.

Lorena Estrella Levantes de Velacarosa.

And now, the Duchess of Levantes spoke the words he had been almost expecting.

“Let me be blunt, Marquis.

Will you be my lover?”

A wave of stunned reactions rippled through the air.

Every pair of eyes locked onto Miguel, waiting for his response.

The tension thickened, electrified.

A rush of excitement crawled up his spine.

There was no greater thrill than being watched by so many—all breathlessly awaiting the words he would utter next.

And yet—among them all, two stood out the most.

First, the woman in front of him.

Her gaze unwavering, as if waiting to hear the verdict of her fate.

Second, the man behind her.

Her husband, watching with a presence so menacing it practically scorched the air between them.

Miguel let out a low laugh.

‘How thoroughly I’ve been used.’

The realization only amused him.

Never—not in a hundred different endings to this game of cat and mouse—had he imagined it would culminate in a scene this dramatic.

But he didn’t mind.

In fact, he welcomed it.

His instincts—sharp as a predator’s—hadn’t failed him.

The reward for his patience was more than satisfying.

After a month of this elaborate chase, Miguel Ervatos had finally found a woman who could send a charge through his very nerves.

This was exactly the kind of reckless thrill that suited the Rake of Motrel.

* * *

Lorena watched the smile creeping across the man’s lips, stretching wider until it consumed his entire expression. Her heart pounded so violently it felt as if it might burst.

She had said it.

No matter how Miguel responded, her words alone were enough to set all of Bessen ablaze.

It was the perfect blow to both Levantes and the Prince.

So no—she didn’t regret it.

But what unsettled her, what left her entire body taut with tension, was the way the man before her reacted.

Miguel Ervatos was covering his jaw with one hand, his shoulders shaking slightly as he laughed.

Why?

Lorena had prepared for this moment—anticipated the gasps of the onlookers, predicted the inevitable wrath of Vaye Levantes.

Yet, she hadn’t accounted for this—for the uncertainty of Miguel’s response.

Because she knew nothing about him.

She was well aware of his wealth, his influence, the political power he wielded behind the scenes.

But what kind of man he was, how he might react to a woman who had just thrown such a shameless proposition in his face—those were unknowns.

This was a gamble.

The lounge had gone eerily silent.

Everyone was still frozen, caught in the moment, unable to process the sheer absurdity of what they had just witnessed.

“A lover…”

Miguel finally broke the tension.

His voice, deep and laced with amusement, sent a shiver through the heavy air.

He glanced toward the entrance and jerked his chin.

“Wanna step outside?”

The same offer he had once made before.

Lorena could almost hear the unspoken words beneath it.

‘You intrigue me.’

Miguel had already risen from his seat, looking down at her.

“This isn’t exactly a conversation for a place like this.”

The deja vu struck her instantly.

A different time, a different place—Soto Monastery.

Their very first encounter had begun the same way.

An odd sense of nostalgia took hold of her.

When she hesitated, Miguel arched a brow, waiting.

Lorena forced herself to regain focus, stealing a glance around the room.

‘It would be better… if he answered me here.’

That way, the story would spread—word of this moment would ripple far beyond these walls.

But something felt off.

Miguel’s voice lacked the same raw, intoxicating heat he had spoken with back in the confessional.

And he wasn’t extending a hand toward her—no invitation, no gestures of seduction.

He was clearly enjoying this situation, but he had no intention of accepting her proposal so easily.

Not that she had expected him to.

This was only the beginning of their negotiation.

Without another word, Lorena rose from her seat.

Miguel turned to a nearby hotel attendant.

“Boris, escort the señora to Room 1707.”

“…1707, sir?”

The attendant hesitated.

“But that room is—”

Miguel didn’t repeat himself.

He simply gestured toward a different doorway—the one leading to the guest room corridors, not the main entrance where she had come in.

Realizing his meaning, the attendant quickly bowed to Lorena.

“Of course, Señora. This way.”

‘Wait.’

Lorena blinked, thrown off.

Wasn’t he coming with her?

From the way the attendant reacted, Room 1707 wasn’t just a normal suite.

She hesitated, glancing back at Miguel.

But he was no longer paying attention to her.

He had already waved over a young man—someone he seemed to know personally.

“Go on,” Miguel said, not even sparing her a glance.

Even so, he noticed her reluctance instantly.

Without looking at her, he let out a dry chuckle and dismissed it.

“Someone’s gotta clean up the mess, don’t they?”

She followed his gaze.

Most of the men in the lounge had already risen from their seats.

Some still sat, but even they had straightened, half-standing, watching her closely.

The entire scene reminded her of a pack of hyenas closing in on fresh prey.

And at the very center of them stood Duke Levantes.

Miguel spoke again, his tone casual.

“Ten minutes.”

A simple statement—but she understood.

He would come find her within that time.

Not cruel, not gentle.

Just matter-of-fact.

Yet strangely, she felt a sense of relief.

Lorena took a breath, steeled herself, and turned to follow the attendant.