Promised To The Tycoon

All men are the same

The thief’s voice cut through the music, sharp and ugly. He barked at the bartender to fill the sack with cash, his machete flashing under the club lights. The room, once alive with laughter and dancing, fell silent except for the shouts and the trembling beat of the music spilling from the speakers.

Maybe it was the tequila, or maybe it was the storm of feelings twisting inside Elena for too long, but she pushed to her feet before she even thought about what she was doing. Her hand wrapped clumsily around a half-empty bottle on the table.

“Who exactly are you threatening?” Her voice slurred, but it rang loud enough for everyone to hear. “Can’t you work for your own damn money?”

The man’s head snapped toward her. His glare was sharp, the machete twitching in his grip as he lifted it in her direction.

Beside her, Lucian didn’t move. He sat like a man watching a play, calm and unbothered. Slowly, he leaned closer, pulling her in until his breath grazed her ear. A faint smile curved his lips.

“You’re pretty bold when you’ve been drinking, sweetheart.”

She didn’t even have time to answer. The thief lunged, reaching for her.

But he never touched her.

Lucian’s hand shot out so fast it blurred. He caught the man’s wrist, twisting hard until a c***k echoed above the screams. The thief howled, his knees buckling. Elena reacted before she could think. She lifted the bottle high and smashed it across his head. The glass shattered, blood spraying as he crumpled to the floor.

The other two charged.

And somehow, she didn’t back away.

“Come on, then!” she shouted, her voice shaky but sharp.

Lucian let out a low chuckle, almost amused. He rose to meet one of them head-on.

The second man came at Elena, machete raised. The steel sliced the air as he swung, but she ducked low and snatched the jagged remains of the bottle from the floor. When he moved again, she shoved the glass upward with all her strength—straight into his left eye.

His scream tore through the club, blood pouring down his face. He stumbled, clutching at his ruined eye, but Elena pushed him hard and sent him crashing to the floor. She straddled him, stabbing again and again with the glass. Her chest heaved, her hands shook, the smell of iron heavy in the air.

“All men are the same!” she cried through clenched teeth, each thrust harder than the last. “Liars! Thieves! Just like Liam!”

Somewhere through the chaos, Lucian finished with his opponent. He had the man pinned beneath him, grinding his face into the sticky floor until blood spread in a dark pool. But his eyes weren’t on the man.

They were on her.

“Elena!” a voice shouted over the noise. Her friend rushed forward, hands grabbing Elena’s face. Tears trembled in the woman’s eyes as she begged, “Please stop. You’ll kill him—it’s over.”

Her touch broke through the haze, but Elena’s body still trembled, her breaths ragged. The world tilted around her, spinning with drink, fury, and something she couldn’t name.

Lucian’s voice cut through the storm, calm and unshaken. “Let her be. They asked for it.”

Somehow, his words didn’t sound cruel. They sounded like truth.

The sudden wail of sirens filled the street outside. Red and blue lights flashed through the club windows, and within seconds, uniformed officers stormed inside.

The thieves were dragged up in cuffs—two unconscious, one screaming for his eye. An ambulance was called. The bartender hurried to spill his version of the story.

And Elena? She sat frozen on the blood-slick floor, her body trembling like a child caught doing something she couldn’t undo.

Her friend tried to pull her up, whispering that they needed to leave, but Elena’s weight dragged her down. She wasn’t strong enough.

Lucian stepped forward without hesitation. His voice was steady. “I’ll take you both home.”

Her friend’s eyes darted between them, then she nodded quickly, relief softening her face.

Lucian bent and lifted Elena easily into his arms, as if she weighed nothing at all. Her drunken mind betrayed her. She slid her hand across his chest, fingers brushing the solid muscles beneath his shirt.

“You look hot,” she whispered with a crooked smile.

Her friend let out a nervous laugh, covering her mouth.

Lucian didn’t laugh. He simply pulled her hand away, tucking it against her side as if she were a restless child. Then he carried her toward the exit, his stride firm, unshakable.

Outside, drizzle left the streets wet and glowing beneath the streetlamps. Police cars lined the curb, their lights flashing. The officers glanced at Lucian, but none stopped him. Their eyes shifted away, as though they knew better.

A sleek black car waited at the curb. Her friend trailed close behind, still shaken, until Lucian handed her a set of keys with a small nod.

“Open the door,” he ordered.

She fumbled but obeyed, and Lucian carried Elena closer.

Through the haze of alcohol, through the weight of everything that had just happened, one thought pressed into Elena’s mind.

He wasn’t saving her. He was claiming her.

Lucian lowered her into the back seat, but she clung to him stubbornly, arms wrapped tight around his neck. “Don’t…don’t go.” Her words slurred softly against his shirt.

Her friend quickly tugged her hands free. “Elena, please. Let him drive.” She slid in beside her, pulling her close.

Lucian shut the door, walked around, and slid into the driver’s seat. His movements were calm and deliberate, as if the chaos hadn’t touched him. With one hand on the wheel, he looked at her friend in the mirror.

“Where does she live?”

Her friend gave him directions in a nervous voice. He nodded once and pressed his foot down. The car moved smoothly through the slick Paris streets, city lights streaking past.

Minutes later, he parked in front of Elena’s building. The lamps glowed across the wet pavement, the air heavy with the smell of rain. Lucian stepped out, came to the back, and opened the door. He slid an arm beneath her knees and lifted her again.

Elena sank against him, too tired to fight, too drunk to care. His chest was solid beneath her cheek, his heartbeat steady.

But then—

The apartment door swung open.

Liam stood there.

His eyes locked on Elena in Lucian’s arms, and his face twisted instantly. He stormed down the steps, his voice sharp. “Put her down. Now.”

Lucian didn’t move. His grip didn’t shift. For one long, tense moment, the two men stood face-to-face in the glow of the streetlight.

Then Liam lunged forward, yanking her into his arms.

Lucian let him. His hand lingered for just a second before he stepped back.

“Who the hell are you?” Liam snapped, clutching Elena close like something fragile he refused to give up.

“Just a friend,” Lucian said smoothly, his voice unreadable.

Even through the fog of liquor, Elena pushed weakly at Liam’s chest. “Put me…down…”

Her friend rushed forward, trying to help, but Liam’s grip only tightened.

“She’s my wife,” Liam said coldly, his glare locked on Lucian. “Who are you to touch her?”

Lucian’s mouth curved into a slow, cold smile. “Oh…you mean ex-wife?” His tone dripped with disdain.

Liam’s jaw tightened, his voice low with warning. “Whatever this is—it ends now. She belongs to me.”

Lucian gave a dark chuckle. “Property, huh?” He cast Liam one last look, sharp enough to wound, then turned on his heel. Without another word, he walked back to his car.

The engine roared to life, and within seconds, he was gone.

Liam carried Elena inside, ignoring her weak protests, her friend trailing behind in silence. By the time they reached her bedroom, Elena’s body had gone limp, her eyes already closing.

He laid her gently on the bed and stood over her, his stare unreadable.

In the living room, her friend collapsed onto the couch, too tired to move. Within minutes, she was asleep, leaving the apartment cloaked in silence.