Preparations
1272 Words
Aria realised something terrifying that morning.
The house had stopped reacting to her.
No guards followed her down the hallway.
No voices corrected her movements. Even the cameras, once blinking insistently, felt distant, watchful in a way that suggested expectation rather than restraint.
They weren’t afraid of her anymore.
They were preparing her.
A bath had already been drawn when she entered the room. Water steaming gently, petals floating on the surface like an apology she hadn’t asked for.
Dresses lined the wall.
Shoes arranged by size.
Jewellery lay out carefully, as though someone had studied her long enough to know what would fit.
Her stomach churned.
This wasn’t kindness.
It was inevitable.
She lowered herself into the bath, staring at her reflection as the warm water closed around her.
The woman looking back at her felt unfamiliar, quieter, sharper, her fear tempered into something colder.
Resolve.
When she emerged, wrapped in a robe she hadn’t chosen, a knock sounded at the door.
“Enter,” she said flatly.
Lucien walked in.
He didn’t look at the dresses.
Or the room.
His gaze went straight to her, sharp and assessing, as if measuring progress.
“You’re adjusting,” he observed.
“I don’t have a choice,” Aria replied.
Lucien stepped closer. “You always have a choice.”
She laughed bitterly. “You took them all.”
“No,” he said calmly. “I narrowed them.”
Her hands clenched at her sides.
“Is this why you announced it so quickly?
So I wouldn’t have time to think?”
Lucien’s eyes darkened slightly.
“I announced it because hesitation breeds rebellion.”
“So you’re afraid of me now?” she challenged.
A pause.
Then, quietly, “I respect unpredictability.”
The words sent a chill through her.
Lucien gestured toward the dresses.
“You’ll be presented again tonight.”
Her chest tightened. “Presented to whom?”
“People who need to understand that you are untouchable,” he replied. “And unavailable.”
“You mean owned.”
“Yes.”
She swallowed hard. “What happens if I refuse to wear one of these?”
Lucien stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Then I choose for you.”
Silence stretched between them, thick and dangerous.
“Where is my father?” she asked suddenly.
Lucien didn’t answer immediately.
That was answer enough.
“You’re using him,” she said, her voice shaking. “You’re keeping him from me to control me.”
Lucien’s jaw tightened. “I’m keeping him alive.”
The words hit harder than any threat.
“Do not test my patience today, Aria,” he added quietly.
“Today matters.”
She met his gaze, fear and fury colliding.
“Why?”
Lucien leaned in, close enough that she could feel his breath.
“Because today,” he said, “someone will try to take you from me.”
Her heart skipped violently. “Who?”
Lucien straightened, already turning away.
“That’s what I’m waiting to see.”
The door closed behind him.
Aria stood frozen, her pulse roaring in her ears.
Someone would try.
Which meant someone could fail.
The thought sparked something dangerous inside her.
If there was an opening, even a small one, she had to be ready.
Hours later, dressed in black silk she hadn’t chosen, Aria was led downstairs once more.
The house buzzed with quiet activity, tension humming beneath the polished calm.
As she entered the hall, she felt it instantly.
Eyes.
Too many.
Too focused.
This wasn’t a celebration.
It was a test.
Aria’s pulse raced as she scanned the room more carefully.
These weren’t casual guests. Their posture was too alert, their eyes too sharp.
Some watched Lucien.
Others watched her.
A few watched everything at once, like predators waiting for a signal to strike.
She felt naked beneath their attention.
Lucien leaned slightly toward her.
“Keep your head high.”
“I feel like I’m on display,” she whispered.
“You are,” he replied.
“And displays deter theft.”
Her fingers curled slowly at her side.
“What if I don’t want to be protected like this?”
Lucien’s mouth brushed close to her ear.
“Then you should not have been valuable.”
The cruelty of the words stole her breath.
Music began to play, soft, deliberate, chosen to calm rather than celebrate.
Glasses clinked.
Conversations resumed in hushed tones, but the tension didn’t lift.
If anything, it sharpened.
Aria noticed how Lucien positioned himself slightly in front of her, how his hand never fully left her wrist.
To anyone watching, it was intimacy.
To her, it was a warning.
He finally left her wrist and stood at the centre again, watching everything.
The doors at the far end opened.
A man stepped inside.
Tall.
Confident.
Smiling.
Lucien’s expression didn’t change but the room shifted.
Aria felt it like a warning in her bones.
The man’s eyes locked onto hers.
And he smiled wider.
Lucien went to meet Aria and his hand closed around her wrist, tight.
His grip wasn’t painful—but it was absolute.
“You’re hurting me,” she murmured.
“No,” Lucien said quietly. “I’m reminding you.”
Her chest tightened. “You don’t trust anyone here.”
“I trust outcomes,” he replied. “People are variables.”
The man continued his slow approach, his smile unwavering.
Aria felt something cold twist in her stomach.
“You know him,” she said.
Lucien’s eyes narrowed slightly. “I buried him once.”
That sentence landed like a threat wrapped in calm.
“What does he want?” she asked.
Lucien finally looked at her. “To prove something.”
“To you?”
“No,” he said. “To himself.”
The man stopped a few feet away, his gaze flicking briefly to Lucien before returning to her.
“Congratulations,” he said smoothly.
“You look… well taken care of.”
Lucien’s grip tightened.
“She is,” Lucien replied. “By me.”
The man’s smile widened, just enough to be unsettling.
“We’ll see.”
Aria’s breath caught.
“Do not speak to him,” he murmured. “Do not move.”
“Who is he?” she whispered.
Lucien didn’t look away from the man.
“A mistake,” he said quietly.
The room seemed to hold its breath.
Lucien stepped forward slightly, placing himself fully between her and the man.
The movement was subtle, but unmistakably protective and territorial.
“You’ve overstayed your welcome,” Lucien said calmly.
The man chuckled.
“You always were possessive.”
“I’m decisive,” Lucien corrected. “There’s a difference.”
The man’s gaze flicked back to Aria one last time, something dark and curious glinting in his eyes.
“Careful,” he said softly.
“Cages have a way of cracking.”
Then he turned and walked away.
Only when the doors closed behind him did Aria realise she’d been holding her breath.
Her legs trembled.
Lucien leaned down, his voice low, dangerous.
“You felt that, didn’t you?”
She nodded faintly.
“Good,” he said. “Because now you understand.”
“Understand what?” she whispered.
Lucien straightened, his eyes cold, resolved.
“That marrying me won’t keep you safe.”
Her heart skipped violently.
“It will make you a target.”
And as the room slowly returned to its low hum, Aria realised with chilling clarity
The wedding wasn’t the end of the danger.
It was the beginning.
Of war!!!!!
- Writer
