Chapter Two
1007 Words
Evangeline’s pulse thundered in her ears, drowning out the bar’s background noise. She had spent months running, yet here he was, standing in front of her like a shadow she could never escape.
Lucian Dante Moretti.
He smelled the same—something dark and expensive, a scent that had haunted her dreams for too long. His grip on her wrist was light but unyielding, a silent warning that her choices were limited. A part of her wanted to lash out, to push him away, but she knew better. Lucian was a man who thrived on control, and any sign of defiance only seemed to amuse him.
“Let me go,” she demanded, keeping her voice steady.
Lucian didn’t move, his gaze boring into hers as if he could see every lie she had ever told. “Why would I do that?” His voice was smooth, laced with dangerous amusement.
“Because I’m not yours,” she shot back, jerking her wrist. This time, he let her go, but not before his fingers brushed the inside of her palm, leaving behind a phantom touch that burned more than it should have.
Lucian exhaled a quiet laugh, his lips curving into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “That’s adorable, angel.”
“Don’t call me that,” she snapped.
His head tilted, amusement flickering in his dark eyes. “You used to love it.”
“That was a long time ago.”
Lucian stepped closer, and despite herself, she took a step back, only to feel the solid wood of the bar counter behind her. He followed, crowding into her space without ever touching her. He didn’t need to. His presence alone was enough to set her skin ablaze.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” he murmured. “It was never that long ago.”
Evangeline clenched her fists, willing herself to breathe. She had been strong once—before him, before the way he made her feel like she was teetering on the edge of something dangerous and intoxicating.
She lifted her chin. “What do you want, Lucian?”
His gaze flicked over her, slow and deliberate, as if reacquainting himself with every part of her. “You.”
The word was simple, but it carried a weight that made her stomach tighten.
She shook her head. “It doesn’t work like that. I left.”
Lucian reached out, brushing a strand of her auburn hair behind her ear, the featherlight touch making her shiver. “And yet, here we are.”
“I don’t belong to you,” she whispered, but even she wasn’t sure if she believed it.
Lucian smiled then, a slow, predatory curve of his lips. “That’s where you’re wrong, angel. You always have.”
Before she could respond, his fingers curled under her chin, tilting her face up to his. She should have pushed him away, should have fought harder, but the moment his thumb brushed against her bottom lip, every thought in her head scattered.
“Tell me,” he murmured, his voice hypnotic, “that you don’t feel this.”
Evangeline swallowed hard, her breath uneven. “Feel what?”
Lucian chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Lying again?”
She hated him for knowing her so well. Hated him for the way her body betrayed her every time he was near.
“I have to go,” she said instead, forcing herself to break the moment. She pushed past him, her fingers trembling as she reached for her bag. She needed air, distance—anything to get away from the gravity that was Lucian Moretti.
But the moment she turned toward the exit, his hand closed around her wrist once more. Not rough, not forceful—just firm.
“Evangeline.”
It wasn’t a demand. It was a warning. A reminder that running had never worked before, and it wouldn’t work now.
She turned, exhaling sharply. “You don’t get to do this.”
Lucian studied her, something unreadable flashing in his eyes. “Do what?”
“Show up out of nowhere and act like you own me.”
His lips twitched, as if he found her resistance amusing. “I don’t act like anything.”
Her jaw tightened. “I’m serious, Lucian. Whatever this is—whatever you think you still have over me—it’s done.”
Lucian’s expression darkened slightly, his amusement fading. “Is that so?”
“Yes,” she said firmly. “I moved on.”
Something in his eyes shifted, and for a moment, she thought she saw something close to anger. But then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by that infuriating smirk.
“If you truly believe that, angel, then why are you still trembling?”
Her breath hitched. She hadn’t realized how tightly she was gripping the strap of her bag, how her knuckles had turned white.
Lucian leaned in, his lips brushing just against the shell of her ear. “You can lie to yourself all you want,” he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. “But you can’t lie to me.”
Evangeline squeezed her eyes shut, willing herself not to react. “I’m leaving.”
Lucian didn’t stop her this time. Instead, he stepped back, watching her with an expression that sent a chill down her spine.
“Go ahead,” he said smoothly. “But remember this, angel—no matter how far you run, I will always find you.”
A shudder ran through her as she turned on her heel and walked out of the bar, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst.
But even as she stepped into the cool night air, a terrifying realization settled deep in her chest.
She had spent months running, years convincing herself that she was free. But freedom had always been an illusion.
Because Lucian Moretti had just proven a truth she had never wanted to face.
She was still his.
- Writer
