The mansion was quieter than usual, but for Elara, the silence felt suffocating.
Lucien had been distant all morning, focused on calls and documents. She knew exactly why—Adrian Kane's brief appearance yesterday had rattled him. And somehow, she had been caught in the middle.
She clenched her hands, trying to keep her pulse steady. She hated being caught between fear, desire, and anger—but mostly, she hated how much she cared.
"Elara."
The voice made her jump.
Lucien stood in the doorway, dark eyes fixed on her. His presence was imposing, and the faint curl of his lips suggested he already knew he had the upper hand.
"You're avoiding me," he said.
"I am not!" she snapped, though her voice sounded shakier than she intended.
"Yes, you are," he replied calmly, stepping closer. "Every glance you've thrown at someone else, every hesitation… you think I don't notice?"
Her cheeks flamed. "I—he didn't mean anything!"
Lucien's jaw tightened. "Doesn't matter. It never does."
Her hands trembled, partly from fear, partly from… something else. "You're impossible!" she shouted. "Do you think I like being treated like some fragile possession? Some—some prize to guard?!"
He froze, taken aback by her sudden outburst. Then slowly, dangerously, he closed the distance between them.
"Elara," he murmured, voice low, deliberate, "I don't treat you like that because I can't trust you. I treat you like that because I can't trust anyone else not to take you away from me."
Her breath caught.
"You—you can't just…" she started, but the words failed her.
He leaned closer. His hand brushed her arm—not harshly, but possessively. The warmth of his touch seared her skin.
"You think this contract is about law," he continued, voice rougher now, almost a growl. "It's about you and me. And I refuse to let anyone, including you, forget that."
Her knees nearly gave out. "Lucien… stop," she whispered, but she couldn't. She didn't want to.
He pressed just a fraction closer, their foreheads nearly touching. She could feel the rapid thud of his heartbeat. The raw heat radiating off him. The tension that had been simmering for days now boiled between them.
"Elara," he said softly, almost painfully, "look at me. Do you understand how much… how impossible it is to stay away from you?"
Her lips parted. Her hands reached out, almost involuntarily, to touch him. To stop herself from falling.
And then… a crash of thunder outside made them both flinch.
Lucien exhaled sharply, taking a step back—but not before their hands brushed. Electric. Dangerous.
"You—this—" she started, voice trembling, "you're impossible!"
"And yet," he said, voice low and intimate, "you want it too."
Her heart raced so fast, it was painful. She wanted to deny it. She wanted to pull away. But her body betrayed her. Every part of her ached at his nearness, his intensity, his unspoken claim.
"I—" she faltered.
"I know," he interrupted gently. "Don't fight it. Not yet. But know this—every time someone looks at you, every time you hesitate, every time you're tempted, I'll be right here. Watching. Claiming. Protecting."
Her chest tightened, her pulse pounding. She wanted to retreat. She wanted to run.
But deep inside, a voice whispered: I don't want to run.
The contract hadn't even been a month yet. And already, she realized: she was lost.