Just the Beginning
1252 Words
Natasha’s POV
My eyes followed the arm of the clock as it struck eight. I was supposed to be there by now.
But I didn’t go to dinner.
I could’ve. I had the dress. I had the time. I was dressed for it.
But what I didn’t have was the obedience to do what he wanted.
Not tonight.
I was probably making a mistake. A bold, reckless, beautifully stupid mistake.
But I didn’t care.
So I sat on the velvet armchair, kicked off my shoes, and watched the clock go past eight. The silence of the house deepened like it knew I was making a mistake. One I wouldn’t regret.
Let him stew.
Let him wait for a wife who never wanted this marriage.
Let him see that I wasn’t going to break just because he told me to.
I never wanted to be here, and I was going to make that fact very obvious.
Ten minutes passed. Then twenty.
I expected him to barge in here, fury in his eyes, ego bruised.
Any minute now, that door would fly open—
At exactly eight-thirty, it did. The door creaked open. No knock. Just an entrance. Uninvited, unannounced.
I knew who it was without having to look.
Lucian.
He walked in, slow, deliberate. Still wearing the suit from earlier—black-on-black, tailored like it was sewn onto his bones. The kind of man who made silence feel like a weapon.
The door clicked shut behind him, covering the room with silence.
No one said anything, no one moved.
The silence stretched on, the only thing heard was the ticking of the wall clock.
Then finally...
“You didn’t show,” he said, voice low, even.
He had been waiting for me to show up and I was waiting for him to come to me.
In the end, he made his way over to me.
A little win if you ask me.
But he didn’t seem to see it the way I did.
I didn’t stand. Didn’t even glance in his direction. “Maybe I had nothing to say.”
Silence.
Then, soft footsteps. The kind you feel more than hear. He crossed the room without hurry, like a predator who’d already caught the scent.
His shoes stopped in front of me. Black. Polished.
I finally looked up—and I wished I hadn’t done that.
His eyes were calm. That was the worst part.
Anger was easier. Rage, I could handle. But calm?
Calm was dangerous.
I couldn’t tell what he was thinking, didn't know what he would do next.
My eyes searched his own, my heart beating faster.
“Did you think I gave you a choice?” he asked, tone like silk sliding over a blade.
Slowly, I pushed to my feet, head tilting upwards as I tried to match his stare.
I couldn’t let him see me as weak.
My chin was high, shoulders squared as my reply rolled off my lips. “I think you want control,” I said. “And I think you’re not used to someone saying no.”
Another silence.
I’d struck something, I could tell.
Then, he stepped closer. The heat of his body clashed with the chill he carried in his stare.
His stare sent chills down my spine.
“I told you not to embarrass me.”
“And I told you,” I snapped, “that I’m not some pet you can train.”
I half-expected him to hit me, yell at me, maybe even threaten me. Some dramatic display of power.
But none of that happened.
He didn’t raise his hand. Didn’t raise his voice either.”
Instead, he smiled. Just slightly.
“You’re right,” he said. “You’re not a pet.”
That seemed like an affirmation, but to me, it sounded worse.
I didn’t know what he was planning to do but it didn’t seem like I would like it.
Lucian turned away and walked to the door. Opened it.
“Follow me,” He said.
I didn’t move, I couldn’t.
“Why?” I asked, taking a subconscious step back.
He looked back at me, eyes burning through me with dangerous calm. “Because I said so.”
The way he said it—soft, almost bored—sent a shiver down my spine. I followed. I wish I hadn’t.
Because I already regretted it.
Down the hallway, past chandeliers that sparkled like sharpened glass and the marble floors. Past walls too silent. Past doors I hadn’t yet opened.
Until we reached one that looked different.
Plain. Metal. Cold.
I didn’t even know what was behind the door but my heart still raced. Every nerve in my body screamed in fear, warning me to turn back.
But I couldn’t run, I had nowhere else to go.
Lucian unlocked it with a key he pulled out from his pocket, then finally turned to look at me.
“I told you I’m not cruel,” he said. “But I am a man of my word.”
I didn’t like the sound of that.
The door creaked open.
A wine cellar.
No lights. Just the soft scent of aged oak and bitter cold. A sharp drop in temperature wrapped around my bones and I sucked in a sharp breath.
“You’re serious?” I asked, heart slamming against my ribs.
He didn’t answer. Just stepped aside, the way one would open a cage, inviting me into the dark.
“I’m not going in there,” I said stubbornly, hands folded across my chest.
His eyes gleamed. “You already are.”
And then he grabbed my arm—not hard, not rough. Just firm. Enough to make it clear I wasn’t going to win this fight.
I tried to resist.
But I had no chance.
He was stronger.
I yelped. “Let go!”
But he didn’t.
He pulled me, pushing me into the cellar.
No.
My heart dropped in fear as I tripped over my own feet, meeting the floor in an instant.
“Lucian!” I shouted, already pushing myself up. “Lucian, don’t—”
But before I knew it, the door slammed shut behind me, darkness swallowed everything.
I couldn’t see anything.
At that moment, I had forgotten how to breathe.
He couldn’t lock me in here.
Panic bloomed in my chest. I stood and ran to the door, banging on it with both fists. “Lucian!”
No answer.
I banged again, harder. “Lucian! You can’t be serious—let me out!”
Silence.
“You bastard! You can’t leave me here—open the goddamn door!”
Still nothing.
He had really left me. For how long? I couldn’t tell.
The cold bit into my skin like teeth. The stone floor sucked the heat out of my bare feet. I wrapped my arms around myself, breathing slowly, trying not to panic.
How long would I be here? Minutes? Hours? Days? I couldn’t tell anymore.
No one came.
Who would come for me anyway? I had no one here.
And then I remembered his words—his voice in my ear like smoke.
You can scream if you want. No one here listens.
He expected me to scream, wanted me to shout out in fear.
But I didn’t scream.
I won’t give him that satisfaction.
I sat down. Back against the wall. Teeth chattering. Eyes wide open in the dark.
Not broken.
Not yet.
But this was just the beginning.
Clearly.
- Writer
