Chapter 12 – Into the Spotlight
896 Words
The penthouse was alive with movement the next morning—stylists, assistants, and a swarm of people Cassie didn’t recognize filled every corner of the living room. Racks of gowns shimmered under the light, fabrics in gold, silver, and deep jewel tones. It felt less like preparation and more like an invasion.
Cassie sat stiffly on a stool as a makeup artist leaned close, brushing color along her cheekbones. She barely heard the chatter around her. All she could think of was the pier. The stranger’s words still echoed in her head: He’s hiding things. Dangerous things.
Lucien hadn’t spoken of it since. He’d vanished into his office after leaving her on the floor, and when she woke this morning, he was already gone. The silence between them was heavier than any argument could have been.
“Try this one, Mrs. Crowe.” A stylist held up an emerald gown that caught the light with every movement. Cassie blinked.
“Emerald?”
“Yes. It’s striking against your skin. And…” The stylist hesitated, glancing around before lowering her voice. “…it’s Mr. Crowe’s request.”
Cassie’s heart skipped. Of course it was. Control threaded through everything he did—even the color she wore tonight.
---
By evening, she hardly recognized herself. The emerald gown hugged her frame like a second skin, its plunging neckline daring yet elegant. Diamonds sparkled at her throat and wrists, borrowed brilliance that would cost more than she’d ever make in a lifetime. Her reflection stared back from the mirror, a stranger cloaked in luxury.
The knock at the door made her jump.
Lucien stepped inside.
He wore a tailored black suit, crisp white shirt open at the collar. No tie. Effortless, commanding. His eyes swept over her, lingering, assessing. For a moment, Cassie thought she saw approval flicker there—something almost softer than his usual steel.
“You’ll do,” he said simply.
Her chest tightened, equal parts anger and something she didn’t want to name. “That’s all?” she asked before she could stop herself.
Lucien’s lips curved slightly. “Would you prefer me on my knees, Cassie?”
Heat rushed to her face. She turned toward the mirror, ignoring the way his voice wrapped around her like velvet and barbed wire all at once.
“Stay close to me tonight,” Lucien said, his tone shifting, darker now. “Do not wander. Do not listen to whispers. Understand?”
Her fingers curled around the vanity. “Because of last night?”
His eyes narrowed. “Because I won’t have you used as leverage.”
The words silenced her. Not I care about you, not I’m worried. No—just possession wrapped in protection.
Still, part of her wondered if it wasn’t the same thing in his world.
---
The gala was held at the Crowe's Hotel, a sprawling palace of glass and marble. Limousines lined the entrance, spilling out women in shimmering gowns and men in sleek tuxedos. Flashbulbs exploded as paparazzi called out names.
Lucien extended his hand to her as they stepped from the car. Cassie hesitated only a moment before placing her trembling fingers in his. His grip was firm, grounding, as if daring anyone to question why she was there.
“Smile,” he murmured without looking at her.
The cameras flashed, questions hurled at them—“Mr. Crowe! Who’s your date?”—but Lucien ignored them, guiding her through the golden doors as though the chaos outside was beneath him.
Inside, the ballroom glittered with chandeliers, every surface dripping with wealth. Crystal glasses clinked, laughter rose in waves, and every eye seemed to follow them. Cassie felt naked under the weight of it, her emerald gown both armor and target.
Lucien bent his head toward her, lips brushing her ear in a whisper that made her shiver. “They’re vultures, Cassie. Don’t let them see you bleed.”
She straightened her shoulders, forcing her spine stiff. If he thought she’d crumble, he was wrong.
---
They hadn’t been inside ten minutes before the first guest approached.
“Lucien.” The voice was smooth, tinged with amusement. A tall man with salt-and-pepper hair and a shark’s smile extended his hand. “It’s been too long.”
Lucien’s expression didn’t change, but Cassie felt his body tense. “Victor,” he said coolly.
Victor’s gaze slid to Cassie, sharp and appraising. “And who is this?”
Lucien’s arm slid around her waist, the gesture both protective and possessive. “Cassie Moore. My fiancée.”
The word landed like a blow. Cassie’s stomach flipped, though she kept her face carefully composed.
Victor’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “How… unexpected.” He took Cassie’s hand, pressing a lingering kiss against her knuckles. “A pleasure, Ms. Moore.”
Cassie forced a polite smile, though unease prickled at her skin. There was something in his gaze—something hungry.
Lucien’s hand tightened at her waist, pulling her closer. “Enjoy the party, Victor.” His tone was ice.
As Victor disappeared into the crowd, Cassie whispered, “Who was that?”
Lucien’s jaw clenched. “A man who likes to circle what isn’t his.”
The answer should have reassured her. But the way Lucien’s fingers dug into her side told her the night was far from over.
- Writer
