Obsession
1036 Words
Lucian's Pov
That goddamn photo wouldn't leave me alone. I drained the rest of my scotch, ice clinking in the glass as I stared at her face again.
Those emerald eyes, that coy smile playing over my full lips...she was haunting me like nothing I ever experienced..
A beautiful woman was nothing new in my world. Lingering looks and cloying perfumes were the norm at the club openings and galas always tried to draw my attention. But this...this was different.
My eyes stayed glued to the image I helped in my hands... I knew I was a bit tipsy, but I couldn't take my eyes off.
That night...the rubbing of bodies and the astounding scent of feminine perfume that wafted into my nostrils left me speechless. I wanted her even more.
She was like a mystery hidden, waiting to be uncovered, an itch waiting to be scratched but quite unteachable.
I caught myself replaying that brief encounter from the club relentlessly.
The way the crowd seemed to part for a split second, our eyes locking through the haze of smoke and sweat-slicked bodies. In that singular moment, the entire world narrowed to just her and I.
The intoxicating scent of jasmine and sandalwood wrapped around me like a vice before she turned and was gone, vanishing back into the mass of people.
One second was all it took for this woman to utterly consume me.
Disgusted with my obsession, I hurled the crystal glass across the room where it shattered against the wall.
This wasn't me, getting so twisted up and reckless over a beautiful face.
As if I were some lovesick kid instead of Lucian Drake - one of the most powerful and feared men on the entire eastern seaboard.
People didn't play games with me without paying a brutal price.
Whatever this was, whatever twisted plot using this woman as bait, I'd get to the bottom of it.
Then they'd reap the goddamn whirlwind, just like all the others who were foolish enough to make an enemy of me.
A sharp rap at the door broke through my stewing thoughts. "Come in," I growled, not looking up.
Angela entered, my secretary of nearly ten years.
The woman knew better than to question me in these moods, but the slight tightness around her eyes told me today would test those boundaries.
Her usual crisp appearance was disheveled, auburn hair fraying from its tight bun.
The poor woman looked like she hadn't slept in days thanks to the manic search I'd put her team on to identify my mysterious obsession.
"Sir," she began in that carefully modulated tone. "We may have a lead on the woman's identity."
I shot up from my chair, the photo crinkling in my white-knuckled grip. "Well? What is it? Who the hell is she?"
Angela hesitated for a fraction of a moment, hands slightly trembling. I had no idea why she had to be this terrified of me. When she finally opened her mouth to speak, her voice escaped with a slight shuddering.
"Her name is Penelope Wakefield. She's the sole heir to one of the oldest and wealthiest families here in Manhattan - the Wakefield real estate empire. A fortune estimated to be in the billions, sir."
My jaw clenched as the picture started coming together in my mind.
Of course, this was a goddamn power play to get leverage over me and my world, using this Penelope as eye-catching bait.
The money, the mysteriously dropped hints...it reeked of the tangled games Manhattan's elite were always playing behind their polished veneers of high society.
"That's not all," Angela continued, her voice dropping lower as if speaking the next words took effort. "There are...disturbing reports surrounding Miss Wakefield's current situation. Rumors that she was violated in an unthinkable manner very recently. By members of her own family."
White-hot rage lanced through me at the thought. This exquisite creature, preyed upon by her own flesh and blood like some sort of depraved game?
In my world, protecting and providing for family was the highest priority - this twisted s**t went against every code I lived by. I'd put bullets in the skulls of men for lesser violations.
Without a word, I turned and strode towards the wall of windows overlooking the glittering Manhattan skyline, my jaw working as a plan took shape.
This was too big an opportunity to pass up.
A chance to not only claim whatever prize was being pointed at me, but to shatter the delusions of whoever thought they could run this game on Lucian Drake.
"Angela," I said in a low tone without turning back. "Ready my private jet. We're going to pay a visit to Miss Penelope Wakefield and her esteemed family."
A heavy pause, then, "Sir, I must advise against acting so rashly without--"
The glare I leveled in her direction would've melted carbon into the air.
The kind of look that made grown men panic and retch from the intensity of the promise it held. Angela clamped her mouth shut, giving a terse nod.
"Of course. Right away, Mr. Drake."
After she scurried off, I turned back to the photo, grazing the pad of my thumb over Penelope's captured image.
There was something about this woman, this puzzle, that had me utterly enthralled in a way I'd never experienced.
More than just her beauty, there was a strength flickering in those emerald eyes that called for the respect I had for fighters and survivors.
"Don't worry, princess," I murmured down at her face. "I'll take care of you, make everything right again. And whoever was foolish enough to cross me in this twisted game..." I trailed off, curling my lip into a cruel smile as I thought of all the anguish I would rain down.
"They're about to get a brutal re-education on why I'm not a man to be trifled with. This is just the opening move."
No one played Lucian Drake for a fool without suffering unimaginable consequences.
Whatever deep, dark secret lay behind these events, I would shred it and burn the ruins to ashes.
Then the true game would begin with the chance to claim my obsession as my own.
- Writer
