Chapter Seven:He doesn't know when to quit.
940 Words
You,” I hissed, setting the tray down hard enough that the glasses rattled.
“Wait” …… You….
“What”? He cut me off.
“You’ve been the one following me? The car outside campus, outside my apartment, everywhere? Are you serious right now?”
Lucien didn’t deny it. He simply watched me with that unnerving intensity, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
“I prefer to call it… observing,” he said smoothly.
“OBSERVING?” I let out a sharp, incredulous laugh.
A couple at the next table glanced over. “That’s what stalkers call it these days? You’re unbelievable. Focus on your own messed-up life, Vale. The drug scandal, your reputation tanking, handle that instead of creeping on random girls who bruised your precious ego.”
I turned to walk away, but his voice stopped me.
For some reason……
I want you to be close to me, Ariana .”
The way he said it was low, possessive, almost intimate sent a chill down my spine. Not a request. Not even a proposition. Just a simple, bizarre declaration like it was already decided.
I spun back around, leaning down until we were eye-level, my voice shaking with fury.
“You’re out of your mind. Stay away from me. I mean it.”
His gaze dropped slowly to my lips for a fraction of a second before returning to my eyes. Something dark and hungry flickered there not anger, but a deeper, more dangerous curiosity. Like my rejection had only sharpened his fascination.
Tony appeared behind me, clearing his throat.
“Everything alright?”
Tony remained standing, his eyes darted between us like he was watching a bomb tick.
I didn't wait for Lucien to answer. I spun on my heel and stormed toward the kitchen. The back hallway was narrow, dim, smelling of fryer grease and spilled beer. I pressed my back against the wall and dragged in a breath that shook.
I want you to be close to me.
Not a question. Not a request. A declaration from a man who'd never been told no in his life.
And the worst part, the absolute worst part was the traitorous heat that had curled in my stomach when he said it.
"Get a grip, Ariana," I whispered.
But my hands were still shaking.
I pushed off the wall and headed for the staff bathroom to splash water on my face. I made it three steps before a shadow filled the hallway.
It was him again. Lucien Vale.
Alone. No security. Just him, blocking the only exit, his shirt unbuttoned, his eyes burning.
"You don't know when to quit, do you?" I said, steadier than I felt.
"I know exactly when to quit," he said, stepping closer. "This isn't it."
He was close now. Too close. The hallway was narrow, and he was tall; the space between us felt like it was shrinking.
"Tony will call the cops," I said
Tony took my money and promised not to."
Of course he did.
I crossed my arms over my chest, creating a barrier he didn't seem to notice. "What do you want, Vale? You want me to apologize for telling the truth? You want me to grovel? Because I'm not going to."
"I want you to look at me again," he said, and the rawness stopped me cold. "The way you did in that auditorium. Like I was broken. Like you could see every crack."
I stared at him. The Ice King. The Golden Monster. Standing in a nightclub hallway looking at me like I held the answer to a question he was afraid to ask.
"You're not broken," I said quietly. "You're just lonely. Rich enough to mistake attention for connection."
"You think you know me?" His voice dropped to a whisper that vibrated through my chest.
"I think you follow women into alleys and pay off their bosses because you don't know how to ask for what you want like a normal person."
"And what do u think I want?"
I should have walked away. Should have pushed past him and called Mia and never looked back.
But I didn't.
"You want someone to tell you no," I said. "Because everyone says yes, and you're terrified they're all lying."
The hallway went silent. The music from the club thumped through the walls, muffled and distant.
Lucien didn't move. He just stared at me like I'd pulled out something he'd spent years burying.
Then, slowly, he lifted his hand. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my temple with a gentleness that didn't match the hunge
r in his eyes.
"You're dangerous," he murmured.
I'm a waitress."
"You're a liar." His thumb traced my jawline, feather-light, and I hated that I didn't pull away. "You tell yourself you hate me. That I'm arrogant and broken and not worth your time. But your pulse is racing right now. I can see it in your throat."
I slapped his hand away. "Don't pretend you can read me." I stepped closer, invading his space. "You don't know my life. You don't know what I carry. You think you're the first rich man who wanted to own something poor? You're not special, Vale. You're just louder about it."
Something dark flashed behind his eyes real, not the polished predator.
"I'm not trying to own you," he said, rough.
"Then what are you doing?"
"I don't know."
The honesty caught me off guard.
"LUCIEN!"
A young lady stormed toward us, heels clicking, her face fury itself. Two security guards flanked her.
- Writer
