The black dress fit like a secret.
Tight, elegant, with a slit that ran dangerously high up her thigh, it felt more like a weapon than clothing. The diamonds on her ears sparkled under the soft bedroom light—gifts she hadn't asked for, but ones Lucien had left in a velvet box with a note:
"Wear this. No excuses."
Ariella turned in the mirror. The woman staring back at her didn't look like the girl who'd been sold days ago. She looked like someone powerful—almost untouchable.
But the knot in her stomach told the truth. She was still the same girl underneath.
When she stepped into the living room, Lucien was already waiting. He was dressed in a sleek black tux, tailored to the breath. When he looked up at her, something shifted in his expression.
He stared a second too long.
"You clean up well," he said, voice smooth but restrained.
She narrowed her eyes. "Is that the closest thing to a compliment I'll get from you?"
His lips curved slightly. "It's the closest thing you deserve tonight."
She rolled her eyes. "You know, for a man who paid for company, you're not very charming."
Lucien stepped forward, brushing a curl off her shoulder with deliberate care. "I didn't pay for charm. I paid for control."
Before she could fire back, he offered his arm.
"Shall we?"
She hesitated… then took it.
---
The gala was held in a glass ballroom overlooking the ocean. Cameras flashed the moment they stepped out of the car. Whispers followed them like perfume.
"Is that Lucien Kane's new woman?"
"She's stunning. Who is she?"
"I heard he bought her—"
Ariella flinched, but Lucien leaned closer and whispered into her ear:
"Keep your chin up. Smile like you belong here."
She did.
Not for him. For herself.
The moment they entered the room, the air shifted. Every eye turned. Lucien Kane wasn't just rich — he was power. And tonight, she was on his arm.
"Don't speak unless I tell you to," he said quietly. "This world eats the weak."
"And what am I to you?" she murmured.
He glanced at her, just briefly.
"Expensive."
The gala was lavish. Strings played softly. Waiters floated through the room with glasses of champagne. Ariella stayed close to him, ignoring the stares — until a red-haired woman stepped forward.
Tall. Beautiful. Smiling like poison.
"Lucien," she purred, kissing him on the cheek. "You brought a date?"
Lucien didn't return the kiss. "Olivia."
Olivia's eyes slid to Ariella. "And who's this? Another charity case?"
Before Ariella could speak, Lucien slid his arm around her waist possessively.
"She's mine. That's all you need to know."
Olivia's smile faltered — just slightly — before she walked off.
Ariella turned to him, stunned. "You didn't have to say that."
"I did," he said coolly. "Because you are."
She swallowed, her heart thudding louder than the music.
Suddenly, his touch on her back didn't feel cold—it felt like a warning. Or a claim.
And in that moment, she realized something terrifying.
Lucien Kane wasn't just a man with power.
He was a man used to owning everything he touched.