The mansion was quiet. Too quiet.
Elara sat in her room, absently tracing the edges of a delicate porcelain cup, her mind replaying the encounter with Adrian Kane over and over.
Her chest still burned from the way Lucien had claimed her in public. His hand on her wrist, his possessive gaze, the word "wife" rolling off his tongue like it belonged to him—and only him.
Why did that make her pulse race? Why did it make her stomach twist in ways she didn't want to admit?
A soft knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts.
"Elara," came Lucien's voice. Low. Controlled. And it made her heart stop.
"Come in," she said, trying to steady her voice.
He entered, and the air changed instantly. The warmth of his body, the faint scent of expensive cologne, the sharp lines of his tailored suit—it was all overpowering.
"I need to talk to you," he said, closing the door behind him.
Elara's fingers tightened around the cup. "About what?" she asked, though she knew exactly what this was about.
"You're thinking about him," Lucien said, taking a slow step toward her. "Adrian Kane."
Her cheeks flushed, and she looked away. "I… I wasn't."
"You were," he said, his voice dropping an octave, sharp and impossible to ignore. "I can see it. Every glance you gave him, every flicker of hesitation. Don't lie to me."
Her throat tightened. "It wasn't like that. He—he was just talking to me. Nothing else."
Lucien's eyes darkened. "You don't understand. I don't tolerate anyone looking at you the wrong way. Especially men who think they can."
She swallowed hard. "You're… jealous?"
He took another step closer, the distance between them shrinking until she could feel the heat radiating off him. His presence was suffocating, overwhelming, and intoxicating all at once.
"Yes," he admitted, his voice low, almost a growl. "I am jealous. Because no one has a right to you but me. And the moment someone thinks they do… I can't control myself."
Her breath hitched. "Lucien…" she whispered, unsure what she wanted him to do—or what she was feeling herself.
He stopped just a foot away, and the intensity of his gaze pinned her to the spot. Every word, every movement, screamed of danger. Yet it drew her in, like fire to moth wings.
"You think this is a contract," he continued, voice rough, shaking with a barely contained emotion. "You think I can separate business from… from you. But I can't. I can't ignore it when you're near someone else. I can't pretend I don't care. Do you understand?"
"I… I—" Elara's words faltered. She had no defense against this. No clever comeback. No explanation that would make sense.
"Do you know what it feels like?" Lucien's voice cracked slightly, and she realized something dangerous—he was vulnerable. Only for a second, but it was enough. "To see you smile at someone else, to hear someone else call you beautiful, to know that maybe… maybe you want something I can't give?"
Her heart tightened painfully. She wanted to speak, to reassure him, but no words came.
He reached out suddenly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. His fingers lingered on her cheek, soft, deliberate. Electric.
Elara's breath caught. She couldn't move. Couldn't look away. Couldn't think.
"You are mine," Lucien whispered, the words barely audible but resonating deep inside her. "And I don't care about rules, or contracts, or appearances. I will protect you, claim you, and if I have to, I'll burn everything else down to make sure no one touches you."
Her chest ached, her heart hammering in her ribs. "Lucien…" she breathed, barely able to speak.
He leaned closer. Their foreheads nearly touched. His dark eyes searched hers, unrelenting, intense, terrifying, and… inviting.
"I want you to feel it," he continued, voice dropping to a velvet growl. "I want you to know that even if this contract ends, even if everything falls apart, I will never let you go. Understand?"
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes—not out of sadness, but out of… something else. Relief? Desire? Fear? She didn't know. She just knew she wanted to melt into him, wanted to tell him he could have her, wanted to scream that she was already lost.
Before she could respond, he stepped back, his hand dropping from her face. His composure returned instantly. The darkness in his eyes softened, leaving only the controlled, untouchable CEO she knew—and feared.
"This ends now," he said, voice cool again. "No more hesitation, no more distractions. We live together. We follow the contract. And outside of that, nothing. Do you understand?"
"Yes," she whispered, still trembling.
"Good."
He turned and left the room, leaving the door slightly ajar, leaving her alone with her pounding heart, the memory of his touch, and the terrifying, exhilarating knowledge that Lucien Blackwood didn't just want her—he needed her.
Elara sank to the floor, wrapped in her blanket, heart racing. One thought echoed in her mind louder than anything else:
I'm already his. And I haven't even kissed him yet.