The Billionaire’s Secret Quartet (Thalassa and Elowen) novel Chapter 1603

Thalassa let out a sigh, finally finding a somewhat comfortable position for her legs, when the doorbell rang.

She hurried to the door, expecting her aunt, a smile blooming on her face, "Aunt Clara, how was your day with—"

Her greeting was cut short at the sight of David standing at the doorway, pushing a wheelchair. Seated in it was a presence too imposing to ignore.

It was Lysander!

His striking features, noble as a marble statue, seemed to command the elements, his aura icy and unapproachable.

Seeing Lysander, Thalassa's smile vanished, her nerves tightening, a wave of anxiety washing over her. "Lysander, what brings you here?"

Lysander's dark eyes lifted to her. She was in a nightgown, her hair damp, a mist of water vapor wrapping around her. Her dark hair draped over her pale cheeks, creating a stark contrast, like a lily fresh from the water.

Just the sight of her like this made Lysander's gaze darken, his throat tightening.

Without responding to Thalassa, Lysander glanced behind him.

David quickly got the hint, let go of the wheelchair, and left.

Lysander wheeled himself into the house, and Thalassa quickly made room for him.

As he settled by the sofa, Thalassa, slightly tense, offered, "I'll get you a cup of tea."

"No need. Come, sit," Lysander steadied his wheelchair, his gaze flicking to her.

His voice carried an authority that was hard to defy.

Even in her own home, Thalassa found herself drawn by his commanding presence, obediently sitting across from him.

As soon as she sat, Lysander's sharp eyes caught sight of a large bruise on her leg, alarming in its intensity. His eyes narrowed, "Did you hurt yourself just now?"

"Don't speak," Lysander cut her off, releasing her hand and lifting her leg with an authoritative ease.

His touch was commanding, leaving no room for objection.

His rough palm against her soft skin sent a jolt through her, an electric current that raced to her heart, leaving her feeling weak.

Thalassa instinctively tried to retract her leg, but Lysander firmly held it in place, "Don't move!"

His voice was a low command.

He lifted her leg onto his lap, leaning in to examine the bruise.

As he drew closer, the faint scent of sandalwood from him teased her senses, memories of past entanglements rushing back, making Thalassa's heart race, her breath catch.