The silence of Sera Moretti's penthouse was louder than city noise.
She sat by the tall windows in a black satin robe, sipping cold coffee she hadn't realized she let go bitter. Outside, the city blinked like a restless machine. Inside, her thoughts burned.
Lucien Cain had protected her. Again.
She hadn't asked him to. She hadn't needed it.
But that file… it had exposed things she couldn't see—Delgado's laundering routes, threats lurking behind polished smiles. He'd saved her millions with one document drop.
And he didn't want thanks.
He wanted her attention.
And she hated that she was giving it.
With a sigh, Sera rose. She pulled her hair into a loose knot and walked barefoot to her closet. Her day was packed—board meetings, a pending acquisition, and a closed-door negotiation with the Dubai investor team. There was no room for Cain in her schedule.
Still… her eyes flicked to her phone.
Nothing from him.
And somehow, that made it worse.
Let it go, Sera.
She slid on a cream blouse and high-waisted black slacks, slipped into red-soled stilettos, and masked the sleepless night behind liner and lipstick.
War paint.
She was ready.
Her driver was waiting in the car downstairs, but she never made it past the lobby.
Because he was there.
Lucien Cain. In her building.
Again.
This time, no suit. Just black slacks, an open black shirt, no tie, no jacket—just his presence. He looked dangerous. And unfairly beautiful.
"You like showing up without warning," she said, stepping out of the elevator, face blank.
"You like acting like you're not affected," he said, eyes never leaving her.
She stopped two steps away. Close enough to feel the heat in his voice. "I have meetings."
He held up a folded piece of paper. "Cancel them."
Sera stared at him like he was mad. "I don't cancel meetings. I run empires."
He didn't blink. "This isn't business."
"What is it then?"
He stepped forward. Just one step. She didn't move.
"I need one hour," he said quietly. "No power plays. No games. Just… time."
Her heart thudded once, hard.
She told herself to say no. To walk away.
But something in his tone—low, honest, maybe even a little human—cut through the wall she kept polished.
One hour.
She exhaled slowly. "Where?"
He turned without answering, already walking.
She followed.
⎯
They drove to the edge of the city in silence.
The car stopped in front of an old building with no signs, no guards, no cameras. Lucien got out. She followed, heels clicking on worn pavement.
Inside was darkness—until a single switch lit up the room.
It was a library.
Old. Quiet. Forgotten by time.
Dust floated in the warm gold sunlight that poured through the tall windows. Shelves reached the ceiling. Hundreds of books—some cracked, some faded—lined every inch.
Sera blinked. "This is yours?"
Lucien nodded once. "My mother loved stories. She never had money, but she believed books could protect you from the real world."
Sera stepped inside, slowly. "You built this?"
"I restored it. She died before I could show her."
She turned to face him. His expression was calm, but his eyes were heavy.
This wasn't a play. He hadn't brought her here to impress her.
He'd brought her here to open a door.
Something in her chest twisted.
"She would've liked it," she said.
"I didn't think you'd come."
"I didn't think I would either."
They sat—on the old leather couch in the center of the room. The silence wasn't cold. Just… full.
"Why are you showing me this?" she asked.
Lucien's fingers tapped once against his thigh. "Because I need you to understand. I wasn't made to be soft. I grew up watching people hurt each other and smile while they did it. My father taught me that fear builds faster than trust. I built my world with that in mind."
He looked at her. "But you're not afraid of me."
"No," Sera said. "But I think you are."
He blinked. "Of what?"
"Of losing control."
His jaw tensed. He didn't answer.
Sera stood, walking toward one of the bookshelves. She ran a hand along the spine of a cracked novel. "I'm not good at trusting either. I watched my mother fall in love with a man who destroyed her. And I promised I'd never end up like that."
Lucien was quiet.
"But here we are," she said, turning around. "You showing me something real. And me… not walking away."
He stood slowly. "We don't have to be them."
"No," she said softly. "But we could become them—if we're not careful."
A beat.
Then he stepped forward, slowly. Deliberately.
"Then let's be careful," he said.
His hand reached for hers. No force. No dominance. Just a quiet offering.
And Sera… took it.
⎯
Back in the city, chaos was moving.
Delgado sat behind his desk, watching security footage of Lucien and Sera together at the library.
"So… it's real," he muttered.
His assistant nodded. "We tracked Cain's men earlier. They're shifting focus toward her territories."
Delgado narrowed his eyes.
"She's not just a fling," he said. "He's building something—with her."
The assistant hesitated. "What do you want to do?"
Delgado leaned back, his fingers drumming slowly on the desk. "Break them."
He stood, walked to the window, and smiled.
"She's the fire," he said. "Let's see how well it burns without air."
⎯
That evening, Sera stood on her balcony, the city stretching far below her.
Lucien hadn't tried to kiss her. He hadn't touched her again.
And somehow… that meant more than anything else could've.
He wasn't chasing her body.
He was reaching for her soul.
And that terrified her more than any war.
She closed her eyes and let the wind carry away the fear.
Just for one night, she allowed herself to believe…
That maybe, just maybe, there was a version of this story that didn't end in ruin.
But she had no idea how close the fire was already crawling under their feet.