Lucien's POV:
The city's pulse was a dull throb beneath my feet, a stark contrast to the thundering beat in my chest. I stood on the rooftop, long after Celeste had gone, the lingering ghost of her presence a potent heat in the cool night air. Her words, "Of what I might do next," echoed in my mind, a seductive promise. The way she had leaned into me, the almost-touch, the crackle of a newly awakened hunger – it was everything.
She is fire under water.
I'd told her that, and it was true. The water was receding, and the flame was beginning to roar. She hadn't asked me to touch her physically, but her presence here, her unspoken surrender on that rooftop, was a bolder invitation than any spoken word. The restraint I was still holding onto for her, the promise I had made to myself, was a blade at my own throat.
---
My phone, clutched in my hand, was a cold comfort. Adrien's voice, tight with urgency, still echoed in my mind. "They know her name now. They know you're involved."
The Morettis. A name that tasted like ash and old blood. My father's old allies, now rivals. The thought of them touching her, even looking at her, sent a cold spike through me. Damien Morano, in his pathetic, predictable rage, had stumbled into a hornet's nest, and now Celeste was caught in the crossfire.
I left the rooftop, my movements fluid, practiced. I called Adrien on the way down. "Update."
"Damien's been making calls. Too many. He's trying to sniff out your connections, looking for leverage. He's talking to old Moretti contacts, the ones we used to use to filter sensitive information. The kind that don't ask questions."
My jaw tightened. "And the Morettis?"
"They're interested. They see an opportunity. Your father's old debts, your separation from the main syndicate... they think they can use him to get to you. And now they know about her."
Bastard.
This wasn't about vengeance against Damien. Not yet. This was about containment. About making sure the fire that was Celeste didn't get consumed by the one I'd spent my life trying to outrun.
"Celeste is not to be touched," I stated, my voice devoid of emotion, a cold, hard command. "Understood?"
"Understood, Lucien. But it's already escalated. This isn't just about a disgruntled husband anymore. They see weakness. They see an opening."
I ended the call. The penthouse was silent around me. I walked to the window, staring out at the concrete jungle. My kingdom. And now, the battlefield.
The Morettis were sharks, always circling. My father had cultivated them, using their brutality to expand his reach. I'd broken away, choosing precision over brute force, the whisper over the scream. But some bonds, forged in blood and fear, were hard to sever. If they knew Celeste's name, it meant Damien hadn't just made an inquiry; he'd likely offered her up as leverage.
The air felt heavy. The thought of her, alone in her apartment, oblivious to the storm brewing around her, grated on me. I wanted her here. Where I could see her. Protect her.
---
I walked to the private gallery within my penthouse, the space where the raw, unflinching portrait of Celeste now hung. Her on her knees, not in surrender, but defiance. Eyes closed in power. I stared at it, the image a mirror of the woman who had captivated me, who had finally allowed herself to feel.
"I'll handle him," I murmured to the silent canvas, "For you."
It was a promise. A threat. A truth. And for the first time in my life, caution was secondary. All that mattered now was her. And the price of protecting her from the world I commanded… it was one I was prepared to pay, no matter the cost.
Because the queen was awake. And I would burn any kingdom that dared to threaten her crown.