A yawn escaped Luca’s lips.
Noticing his weary appearance, Rose approached with concern softening her features.
“Quinn, haven’t you been getting enough rest?” “I’ve been chasing inspiration these past few nights.
Sleep has proven…
elusive.” For forty-eight hours straight, he’d worked almost around the clock, crafting explosives and condensate by day, sneaking into the bilge to hammer steel plates under cover of darkness.
After discovering the fatal flaw in current vulcanized steel technology, he’d thrown himself into nonstop labor.
Daytime activities drew too much attention, so he reserved his real work for the empty midnight hours.
Applying condensate to the compartment’s steel plates, waiting ten minutes until frost began forming on the surface, then tapping gently with a small hammer.
The cooled plates appeared unchanged to casual observation.
But if one examined closely, tiny patterns had emerged across their surfaces, hairline fractures invisible to the naked eye, so subtle that even staring directly revealed nothing amiss.
Under normal operating conditions, these plates would hold perfectly.
Even if the ship encountered marine life, as long as it wasn’t a large-tonnage predator like a whale or shark delivering substantial impact, no problems would arise.
But if subjected to explosive force?
Those plates would shatter like glass.
Forty-eight consecutive hours of high-intensity manual labor, performed with the furtive caution of a thief dodging discovery… Luca found himself genuinely exhausted.
He had his youthful new body to thank.
If he’d attempted this in his previous form, ravaged by various sub-health conditions, he’d never have completed the work.
“Have you composed new poems?
Would you share them with me?” Rose’s eyes sparkled as she produced a small notebook from her pocket, ready to record his words.
“Someday, perhaps.
Right now, I need rest.” Another yawn escaped him.
He genuinely lacked the energy to entertain this girl.
Tonight marked the critical moment.
He needed to recharge fully to handle whatever might unfold.
“Sleep?
But it’s nine in the morning!” Rose glanced at the wall clock in surprise, genuinely puzzled by this unusual sleep schedule.
“Rose, you must understand, a poet’s rhythms differ from ordinary people’s.
The deepest hours of night are when my mind sharpens, when inspiration flows most freely.” “I understand!
Please rest well.
I’ll keep others away.” A gleam of comprehension lit her eyes as she nodded solemnly.
What exactly she’d understood, Luca neither knew nor cared to investigate.
Exhaustion claimed him, and within moments, sleep swallowed him whole.
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦ “Hmm?” He couldn’t gauge how long he’d slept before awareness slowly returned.
Why did his bed seem…
more occupied than usual?
“Rose?
What are you doing here?” He stared at the woman beside him, then at the dark sky visible through the window.
A creeping sense of wrongness settled over him.
Truth be told, while he made no claims to sainthood, he wasn’t the sort of man who lost all control at the sight of a woman.
Over the past few days, Rose’s flirtatious behavior had been constant.
If it seemed like innocent teasing, Luca had managed to resist through sheer force of will… primarily because he wanted absolutely no complications.
He’d managed to insinuate himself into the Titanic’s upper echelons through his knowledge of the plot and a carefully constructed persona.
But if he became entangled with Rose, heaven only knew what messy consequences might follow.
With power and position, taking risks could be called ‘living life to the fullest.’ Without them, it was simply courting death.
That’s why he’d consistently deflected Rose’s advances.
Yet he genuinely couldn’t fathom why this girl had appeared in his bed.
“Quinn, you’re awake!” Unlike his confusion, Rose seemed entirely at ease.
She showed no concern for her lack of clothing, greeting him casually as if this were perfectly normal.
“Ah…
why are you here?” After a moment’s consideration, Luca felt he had to ask.
The question might sound painfully direct, but he hadn’t done anything between falling asleep this morning and waking now!
If this woman tried to trap him through implication, he wouldn’t accept it.
“I came to invite you to dinner.
When I arrived, you were still sleeping.
I felt a bit tired myself, so I borrowed your bed for a short rest.” Rose’s cheeks flushed slightly as she spoke.
Right.
And I’m the Emperor of the World.
Seeing her unrepentant expression, that classic ‘frog unafraid of boiling water’ look… Luca realized he’d been well and truly maneuvered.
He’d always heard that women loved boldly and hated fiercely.
Now he had firsthand confirmation.
Perhaps he shouldn’t have let her work beside him in the first place.
If he genuinely wanted to avoid a romantic storyline with Rose, he should have maintained distance from the beginning instead of letting her persistence wear down his principles.
In Luca’s mind, he needed help anyway.
Finding some random assistant was certainly better than using Rose, at least they wouldn’t be seductive, right?
But in Rose’s interpretation, this proved the poet was genuinely interested in her.
His resistance stemmed only from the inherent reserve of Eastern gentlemen.
After several days of contemplation, Rose decided to take the initiative.
The ship would reach New York the day after tomorrow.
Based on Caledon’s recent behavior, she’d likely be confined to his manor upon arrival in America.
To leave no regrets in life, Rose resolved to present him with a fait accompli.
Better to give her first experience to someone she actually liked than to her detested fiancé.
The subsequent events unfolded predictably.
Though Luca had tried avoiding trouble, when opportunity literally presented itself in his bed, refusal seemed pointlessly artificial.
Three thousand words of descriptive text omitted…
✦••┈┈••✦••┈┈••✦ “Mr.
Quinn, where is Rose?
Didn’t she say she was inviting you to dinner?” An hour later, when Caledon spotted Luca entering the banquet hall alone, confusion colored his question.
Caledon had felt uneasy about his fiancée’s behavior initially.
But after several days of observation, he’d concluded that Mr.
Quinn was a genuine gentleman.
Rose was safe with him.
Besides, the man had just signed an initial investment agreement with Hockley Group on behalf of Prince Chun, one hundred and fifty thousand pounds as a first installment.
With that kind of money on the line, even if Caledon suspected Rose might receive some…
attention from the investor, he found it hard to object.
As long as certain boundaries remained intact, surely everything would be fine?