The cold air in the guest room felt like a physical weight, a constant reminder that my life had been turned upside down.
The room itself was a monument to wealth and quiet perfection. The sheets smelled of fresh linen and expensive detergent, a stark contrast to the memory of the cloying perfume that still haunted my senses. I sat on the edge of the bed, the silence suffocating, my mind a storm of a thousand questions and a single, searing pain.
I replayed the scene in my mind, the words echoing like a death knell.
Her body's better than yours anyway. And I needed to protect my job. Jason's cold, detached voice and Tamara's cruel, heartless laughter.
Her betrayal was the one that hurt the most. We had been best friends since childhood. I had shared my deepest fears, my biggest dreams, and my most guarded secrets with her. I didn't understand how she could have done this to me. The tears streamed down my face, hot and furious, a physical manifestation of my heartbreak. I was not just heartbroken; I was broken. My career, my home, my relationship everything I had worked for was gone in the blink of an eye. And I had no one to blame but myself for being so foolish, naive and blind.
A soft knock on the door jolted me from my misery. "Miss Vane? Mr. Thorn would like to see you."
My heart pounded, a frantic, panicked beat against my ribs. I wasn't ready for this. I wasn't ready to face the man who had just offered me a way out. I walked out into the hall and followed the butler down a long, winding corridor. He was an elderly man, impeccably dressed, with a kind face that held a quiet sadness. He didn't speak, but his presence was a reassuring anchor in this strange, intimidating world. The walls were lined with expensive paintings, and the air smelled of old paper and wealth. My heart was in my throat, a lump of fear and desperation.
He led me to a private study, where a man sat at a large oak desk.
This was my first look at Lucien Thorn. He was a specter of a man tall, with a jaw that looked carved from stone and eyes as dark and unreadable as a storm cloud. He was impossibly handsome. He looked like he belonged on a magazine cover, a masterpiece of cold, controlled perfection. But there was a sadness in his eyes that I hadn't expected, a haunted look that hinted at a deeper, more complicated man.
"Miss Vane," he said, his voice a low, steady baritone that sent a shiver down my spine. "My grandmother has informed you of my offer which is that I want you as my wife and don't be scared as It is just for a period of time. After that, you will be free to go."
I looked at him, and I knew what he was doing. He was offering me a way out. But he was also offering me a choice.And I had a feeling that he knew it.
"I'm not sure I can do that," I said, my voice barely a whisper, but firm. "I don't know you so this is too much and too fast."
He looked at me, his gaze now filled with a strange kind of empathy. He leaned forward, his elbows on the desk, his hands clasped together. "I understand your hesitation. This is an unorthodox request. But it is a necessary one." He paused, as if weighing his next words. "I know what it's like to have people use you,to have them turn on you when you're at your most vulnerable. I know what it's like to have your family's life in someone else's hands, so I think you should know how this would help you a lot."
His words hit me like a physical blow. A cold wave of shock washed over me. He was speaking my language,I mean he was speaking the language of pain and betrayal. "How?" I asked, my voice a desperate plea. "How do you know that?"
He looked at me, his gaze now filled with a strange kind of empathy. "Because I know who did this to you, Selena. The person who is after my life is the same person who jeopardized yours. The one who made Jason to betray you, the one who paid your best friend to break you, is the same man who is trying to take my company from me. and together we can take him down and also make you become a better person for your family."
His words hit me again. A cold wave of shock washed over me.So i wasn't a victim of circumstance I was a target. My heart pounded, but I forced myself to remain calm. My mind, a whirlwind of fear and pain, suddenly cleared.
I had a purpose now. I wasn't just a victim. I was a warrior. I looked at him, and I knew what I had to do. I had to get revenge. And I had to save my family.
"I'll do it," I said, my voice firm. "But this is not going to be a contract. It would be a bargain."
He looked at me, his eyes now filled with a strange kind of respect. "A bargain?" he asked.
"Yes," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "You give me the tools I need to save anf help my family. And in return, I give you the perfect wife. And when this is over, we will be two people who fought a war and won. And we will be free to go our separate ways."
He looked at me, and I could see the wheels turning in his mind. He was a man who had seen too much. He had been hurt too many times. But he was a man who needed a partner. And I was the perfect one.
He smiled, a slow, subtle curve of his lips that didn't reach his eyes. "Then it's a bargain," he said. He extended his hand, and I took it. His touch was cold, but firm. A silent promise. A signal that we were in this together. And I knew that our war had just begun.