The sun was high in the sky as Lucien stumbled out of the beach house, the events of the previous day replaying in his mind like a broken record. The stab wound Neoma left on his left breast, still fresh, may be shallow, but it stung against his shirt. Every jolt of pain from his jaw and ribs fueled his anger. She and the man who knocked him unconscious had slipped through his fingers, but he would find them—and when he’d do, they would pay.
His intent and motivation to get his hands on Neoma and emerge as the victor of the marriage game was now irrevocable. The humiliation and pain he had endured made his desire for revenge and control burn even hotter.
Nevertheless, he may be known for his brute force and imposing presence, but his cunning left much to be desired. He relied heavily on
