Hate Me Like You Love Me (Serena and Caleb) novel Chapter 46

Lucas’s POV

The most exhausting part of being the perfect man is remembering which version of myself each person expects to see.

I stare at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, practicing the smile that makes everyone trust me. The concerned boyfriend. The respectful suitor. The devoted son who would never dream of disappointing his family.

The mask fits perfectly, it should, after all these years of wearing it, but the weight grows heavier with each passing day.

Smile softer. Eyes warmer. Head tilted just slightly, like you’re genuinely listening.

I run through the motions, watching my face transform from predator to prince in the span of a breath. It used to be effortless, this performance.

Now it feels like dragging chains across glass, the scrape of it grating against nerves I’ve trained myself to ignore.

I’m tired of bowing and scraping. Tired of asking permission from William Lakin like I need his blessing to take what’s already mine. Tired of treating Serena like she has any real choice in how this ends.

Patience, I remind myself. Patience is what separates winners from amateurs.

Once she says yes, publicly, irrevocably, in front of everyone who matters, she’ll have nowhere left to run. The engagement will become a cage so golden no one will question why the bird inside has stopped singing.

My thoughts turn to Caleb, and my jaw tightens so hard my teeth ache.

That self-righteous bastard has been a thorn in my side since the Christmas party, hovering around Serena like a guard dog who’s forgotten his place in the hierarchy.

I’ve watched him watch her. I’ve seen the way his eyes track her movements across a room, the way his whole body goes rigid when I touch her arm or lean too close.

Protective stepbrother my ass.

There’s hunger in the way he looks at her. The same hunger I see in my own reflection, except he’s too stupid or too noble to act on it properly. And Serena, sweet, naive Serena, tenses whenever they’re in the same room.

Not with fear, which would be appropriate. With anticipation, which makes my blood simmer beneath this carefully maintained surface.

If I can find proof of whatever sick thing is happening between those two, the leverage would be devastating.

They’d have no choice but to fall in line—both of them, tangled together in a web of their own making, dancing to whatever tune I decide to play.

But first, there’s another problem to address—Rachel.

She almost ruined everything at the restaurant, whispering warnings to Serena like some self-appointed guardian angel risen from the grave I thought I’d buried her in three years ago.

The memory makes my hands curl into fists against the marble countertop. Rachel was supposed to stay broken. Stay silent. Stay the hell out of my way while I built something beautiful from the ashes of her credibility.

Instead, she’s decided to play hero.

That cannot continue.

I drive to her house without hesitation, the familiar route burned into my memory from years of cataloging escape routes and weak points.

Her apartment sits on a quiet street near campus, the kind of place where neighbors mind their own business and don’t ask questions about raised voices behind closed doors.

When Rachel opens the door and sees me standing there, the color drains from her face so fast I almost laugh.

“Lucas.” My name comes out strangled, her hand already moving to push the door closed. “What are you…”

I’m faster. My palm catches the edge before she can complete the motion, and I push my way inside with the easy confidence of a man who’s never been denied entry to anywhere he wants to go.

The door clicks shut behind me, sealing us together in the dim hallway of her cramped little apartment.

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