The Disowned Heiress & The Scarred French Monarch

Chapter 8: He Locked Me Up

— THE DISOWNED HEIRESS & THE SCARRED FRENCH MONARCH —

VIVIENNE'S POV

My chest felt crushed. The raw, aching heat between my thighs was a brutal reminder of last night of the way Lucian had pinned me to the door, claiming me until I screamed his name. It felt like a fever dream, but the cold sheet under my skin said otherwise.

I needed air. I needed a coffee before my mind fractured completely.

I grabbed the brass doorknob of my bedroom and pulled.

The door opened barely an inch before it was violently slammed shut from the lab.

BANG.

I gasped, yanking it open again. Two massive men in dark suits blocked the corridor, their jackets bulging with heavy steel. Their faces were pure stone.

"Move," I demanded, forcing my voice to stay steady despite the panic coiling in my throat. "I’m going to the kitchen."

The larger guard took a step forward, completely crowding my space. "Don Lucian’s orders, Miss Sterling. You don't leave this room. Not without his explicit permission."

"I am not a criminal!"

"To the Don, you are a liability," he replied coldly.

The door was slammed shut in my face. The lock clicked.

I backed away, staring at the dark wood. The realization hit me like a slap. Our contract wasn't just a business deal anymore. I was a true prisoner in a golden cage luxurious, beautiful, and completely inescapable.

An hour later, a maid finally unlocked the door and escorted me down to the dining room. The air was so thick with tension it felt hard to swallow.

Lucian was already at the head of the long marble table. He looked flawlessly lethal in a tailored dark suit, his head down as he scrolled through tactical reports on his phone. He didn't even glance up when I sat down across from him. To him, I was just furniture.

"How long is this lockdown going to last, Lucian?" I snapped, my frustration boiling over. "You can't just keep me locked away like an animal."

Lucian slowly set his phone down. His dark eyes locked onto mine, freezing the blood in my veins. The silver scar across his jaw twitched.

"You forget your place, little bird," he purred, the sound deep, low, and terrifyingly intimate. "Our contract clearly states your life belongs to me for the next year. And right now, your bloodline is tied directly to the Russian syndicate trying to dismantle my territory."

"I told you, I have nothing to do with them!" My eyes burned with angry tears. "Why won't you believe me?"

"Because you are a Sterling," Lucian sneered, leaning forward, his gaze cutting me to pieces. "Deceit runs in your veins. Your father is a snake, and your stepmother is a traitor. I don't trust a single word that comes out of your mouth. Until I prove you aren't a spy, you stay exactly where I put you."

"I can prove it!" I stood up, losing my temper completely. I yanked my phone out of my pocket and slammed it onto the marble table, rattling the silverware. "Look at it! Check my calls, my messages, my emails! I haven't contacted them since the day they threw me out!"

Lucian stared at the device. Then, he slowly stood up.

His towering, six-foot-three frame cast a shadow that swallowed me whole. He walked around the table, his movements slow, deliberate, and predatory. He didn't pick up the phone to inspect it. Instead, he snatched it up in one brutal grip.

Before I could breathe, he walked over to his breakfast tray and dropped my phone straight into a tall glass of water.

We both watched in dead silence as the screen flickered, shorted out, and went completely black.

"What did you do?!" I cried, my voice cracking. "That was my only connection to the world!"

"You don't need a connection to the world," Lucian rasped, completely unbothered as he wiped his fingers with a linen napkin. "The only voice you need to listen to from now on is mine. You are cut off, Vivienne. Accept it."

Before I could scream at him, the heavy double doors burst open.

Marco rushed inside, his usual playful grin completely gone. His face was pale, sweat belling at his temple. He bypassed the food and leaned straight into Lucian's ear, whispering three short words that turned the room into an absolute freezer.

Lucian’s eyes turned instantly deadly. The cold disdain vanished, replaced by pure, unmasked danger.

"Are you certain?" Lucian growled.

"Yes, Boss," Marco said quickly. "An armored black SUV is idling right outside the main gate. The scanners just picked up the signature tracker. It's the Volkov syndicate. The Russians know she's here."

My heart dropped straight into my stomach. They found me. The monsters my stepmother sold me out to were downstairs, and I was trapped in the crossfire.

Lucian turned his dark, furious gaze back to me. There was no sympathy—only pure, unadulterated rage. He marched across the room, his large hand wrapping around my upper arm in an iron, bruising grip. He dragged me out of my chair, pulling me roughly toward the hidden panic room behind his office bookshelf.

"Lucian, let go! You're hurting me!" I stumbled, my bare feet slipping against the floor as the penthouse alarms suddenly began to wail through the halls.

Lucian leaned down, his face inches from mine, his eyes flashing with a terrifying, wild light.

"Shut up," he growled darkly against my lips. "Your family's friends are outside, little bird. Let's go see if they came to save you, or kill you."