It started with a phone call.
"Sienna," Lucien's deep voice said on the other end. "Come upstairs."
Her heart jumped.
"To your penthouse?"
"Yes."
That was all he said.
Fifteen minutes later, she stood in front of his door. It opened before she knocked.
Lucien stood there, shirt half unbuttoned, tie loose around his neck. His eyes met hers—and she saw it. The need. The fire.
He didn't speak. He just reached for her hand, pulled her gently inside, and shut the door behind them.
The city lights glowed through the tall windows, but inside, it was just them and silence. Heavy, waiting.
He touched her cheek, his thumb brushing along her skin.
"I told myself I wouldn't cross this line again."
She stepped closer. "Then don't talk. Just feel."
His mouth crushed hers.
This kiss wasn't slow like the first. It was hungry. Desperate. His hands tangled in her hair as her fingers slid over his chest, feeling his heartbeat—fast like hers.
He lifted her easily, and her legs wrapped around his waist. She gasped as he pressed her back against the wall, lips trailing down her neck.
"Tell me to stop," he whispered again.
"I don't want you to," she breathed.
He carried her to the bedroom, laid her gently on the bed. His eyes searched hers—one last silent question. She nodded.
Then he was on her—warm, sure hands sliding beneath her dress, skin to skin. Her breath caught as his mouth moved lower, finding the places that made her forget everything else.
He undressed her slowly, like unwrapping a gift he'd waited too long to open. Every touch, every kiss, was careful and full of heat. And when he finally slid inside her, it wasn't just passion—it was something more.
Something deep.
She held on to him like the world was spinning too fast. He whispered her name like it meant something.
And when they came undone, together, it felt like falling and flying at the same time.
After, they lay in silence. Her head rested on his chest. He ran his fingers through her hair gently.
"I knew I'd break the rule for you," he said softly. "From the moment I saw you."
Sienna closed her eyes.
This wasn't just temptation anymore.
It was real.
And it was only getting deeper.
Sienna woke to soft morning light pouring through Lucien's tall windows. For a moment, she didn't move.
His arm was wrapped around her waist.
His chest rose and fell against her back.
It felt… safe. Dangerous. Like something she shouldn't want but couldn't stop craving.
Last night wasn't a dream.
He had touched her like she was art. Loved her like he was trying to erase every rule.
And now, she was lying in the arms of the one man she'd promised herself she wouldn't fall for.
Slowly, she sat up.
Lucien stirred. His eyes opened—soft, sleepy, but still sharp.
"You're leaving already?" he asked, voice low and rough.
"I should," she said quietly. "We broke the rules. Both of us."
He sat up, ran a hand through his hair. "I know."
They stared at each other.
"Do you regret it?" she asked.
He looked at her for a long time before answering.
"No," he said. "But I'm afraid of what comes next."
Back at the gallery, things changed.
Lucien was colder now. Not cruel—but distant. Professional. Careful.
He avoided being alone with her. Gave her orders through his assistant. Refused to look at her for too long.
And it hurt.
Not because he didn't care.
But because she knew he did.
He was building a wall between them, brick by brick.
Sienna threw herself into work. She smiled at guests. She stayed late. She pretended nothing had happened.
But every time their eyes met across the room, her body remembered.
Her heart did, too.
One evening, after everyone had left, she stayed behind to finish arranging a sculpture. She didn't hear Lucien walk in.
"Still here?" he asked quietly.
She froze. Slowly turned. "Yes. Just finishing up."
He nodded. "Good work today."
Then silence.
She could feel the tension between them like heat in the air.
Finally, she couldn't take it anymore.
"So this is it?" she asked, her voice shaking. "We pretend that night never happened?"
Lucien didn't answer right away.
"I don't know how to protect you and want you at the same time," he said. "But pretending doesn't work either."
She stepped closer. "Then stop running."
His jaw clenched. He looked like he was fighting a war inside.
"I want you, Sienna," he said. "But if this continues, you'll get pulled into my world. And my world isn't soft. It's not safe."
She reached up, gently touched his cheek.
"I'm not asking for safe. I'm asking for real."
Lucien didn't kiss her again that night.
He didn't pull her close.
But he also didn't walk away.
Instead, he looked at her like she was both the light and the fire—and he didn't know which would save him or burn him.
Then he said the one thing she wasn't expecting.
"Come with me."
He didn't take her home.
He took her to a part of the city she'd never seen before. Past the glowing lights and polished streets. Into darker corners. Narrow alleys. Quiet buildings with expensive cars parked out front.
"This is where I started," Lucien said, unlocking a tall black door. "Before the money. Before the name."
Sienna followed him inside.
The place was different from his penthouse. No glass. No silver. Just brick walls, old wooden floors, and shelves filled with dust-covered books and paint-splattered canvases.
"You were an artist?" she asked softly.
He nodded. "Once."
She stepped closer to a painting leaning against the wall. A woman—naked, half-shadowed, her face full of sadness. It wasn't perfect, but it felt real. Raw.
Sienna turned to him. "Is this someone you loved?"
"No," he said. "Someone I lost."
He walked past her, stopped near the window.
"There's a part of me I don't show. Not in the gallery. Not to anyone." He paused. "But you make it hard to hide."
She moved to stand beside him. "Then stop hiding."
He looked at her. "You don't know what you're asking."
"Then tell me," she whispered.
He sighed. Sat down on the edge of a worn leather couch.
"My father was a liar. A thief. He ran fake galleries. Sold fake art to real people. One day, everything caught up to him. He ran. Left me with nothing but debt and a ruined name."
Sienna's eyes softened. "How did you survive?"
"I worked. I rebuilt. I created Vale Gallery from ashes. But I made one promise to myself: Never let emotion mix with business. No love. No weakness."
He looked up at her.
"Until you walked in with paint on your hands and eyes too honest for this world."
Sienna knelt in front of him.
"I don't want your gallery, Lucien. I don't care about your name. I want you. Just as you are."
He leaned forward. Pressed his forehead to hers.
"You scare me," he whispered.
She smiled gently. "Good. Because you terrify me."
That night, he kissed her again—but slower. Deeper.
This time, not with hunger.
With truth.
And Sienna knew then… she wasn't just falling for Lucien Vale.
She was falling into his past.
And something told her—his past wasn't done with him yet.