Ben Lucas's cold, dark eyes held a trace of confused intoxication and satisfaction the moment they opened.
But the next moment, as the cold air in the room swept in and blew away those emotions that seemed unwelcome just a moment ago.
His deep, dark eyes became even colder and sharper.
This was his room.
The man's strong, powerful arm propped up his upper body as he sat up, taking only three seconds to completely grasp the situation in the room.
The sunlight outside the window was brighter than it had been in recent days, indicating that it was now past six o'clock.
He, who always maintained a disciplined routine, had unusually woken up an hour later than usual.
And his room was very cold, with no heating on, clearly due to his oversight after returning home last night.
Or, was it Harrison Lucas's oversight?
For some reason, thinking that Harrison Lucas wasn't by his side when he was drunk, Ben Lucas's sharp, angular brows furrowed even more.
