Young Master Lucien’s Bride

Chapter Seven

Lila’s POV

I only sneaked out of my room because I was absolutely parched, and there was no way in hell I was going to call for a maid like some pampered princess. I had my pride. But navigating this stupid mansion in the dead of night was like trying to find your way through a haunted maze. Every shadow looked like a monster, and every floorboard felt like it was waiting to creak and give me away.

After turning down three wrong hallways that all looked exactly the same, I finally found the kitchen. The place was ridiculous. It looked more like a commercial restaurant than a home, complete with stainless steel appliances, endless marble, and a vibe that felt totally sterile. I practically ran over to the massive, high-tech fridge dispenser, grabbing a glass from the counter and chugging water straight from the tap. I drank so fast it spilled down my chin, completely soaking the collar of my hoodie. I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand, praying to whoever was listening that I wouldn't run into the dark lord himself on my way back.

Of course, my luck was completely trashed.

The second I turned around, my heart leaped straight into my throat. Lucien was leaning against the massive marble island, arms crossed over his chest. He looked entirely too attractive and infuriating, wearing a black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing strong, tan forearms. He didn't have his shoes on, which explained how he had managed to sneak up on me without making a single sound.

"What are you doing out of bed, Lila?" he asked. His voice was a low, rough baritone that vibrated through the quiet room, sounding completely flat but heavy.

I squeezed the glass in my hand, forcing my shoulders to stay square. I looked at him in his dark, intense eyes, refusing to let him see me flinch.

"I was looking for a weapon to finish the job from earlier," I told him, keeping my tone as sharp as glass.

I waited for him to snap, or at least threaten me with those guards he talked about. But my comment just got me another one of his silent, intense stares. He just leaned there, his dark eyes tracking every single movement of my face, looking completely unreadable. The silence stretched between us until I thought I might actually scream from the tension.

Instead of getting mad, he just let out a long, heavy sigh. He reached into his pocket, pulled out a sleek, brand-new, top-of-the-line tablet, and slid it across the smooth marble counter toward me. It slid with a soft click, stopping right in front of my hands.

"Take it," Lucien said softly.

I looked down at the device, frowning. "What is this?"

"It's preloaded with your online college courses," he explained, his eyes dropping to the counter for a split second before returning to mine. "And it has a direct line to your mother’s medical team. They will upload daily updates on her condition, her test results, and her treatment plan. You can use it to message her doctors directly if you have questions."

I stared at the tablet, my throat suddenly feeling incredibly tight. A massive wave of conflicting emotions hit me all at once. I was totally torn between wanting to smash the expensive piece of metal over his arrogant head and wanting to throw my arms around him for giving me a way to stay connected to my mom. My fingers twitched against my water glass. The urge to check on her, to see the doctors' names and read the reports for myself, was way too strong to fight.

I settled for snatching the tablet off the counter, gripping it tightly against my chest like a shield. I didn't say thank you. I refused to give him that satisfaction.

"Don't think this changes anything," I muttered, turning my back on him.

"Lila, wait," he called out just as I reached the kitchen doorway.

I paused, freezing in place but keeping my back firmly turned toward him. "What do you want, Lucien?"

"We have a mandatory public dinner tomorrow night," he said, his voice dropping back into that cold, business-like tone. "The media is having a field day with the marriage, and we need to show the press we're a happily married couple to shut down the rumors. A stylist will be arriving at dawn to fix your... situation."

My jaw clenched. My situation? I looked down at the oversized grey hoodie I was wearing—Jason's hoodie—and felt a sudden, hot rush of pure rage. He was already trying to scrub away every piece of my real life, ready to dress me up like a doll for his stupid corporate image. He wanted a perfect, smiling billionaire's wife for the cameras? He was out of his mind.

"Go screw yourself, Lucien," I snapped.

I raised my right hand and flipped him off entirely without turning around, making sure he got a perfect view of my middle finger. I marched right out of the kitchen and back upstairs, my bare feet slamming against the massive staircase.

By the time I locked my bedroom door behind me, my mind was racing at a million miles an hour. I threw myself onto the bed, staring at the ceiling with a wicked smile stretching across my face.

Tomorrow night was a public dinner. There would be reporters, cameras, and flashing lights everywhere. Lucien wanted a show? Fine. I started plotting exactly how I was going to embarrass him in front of the entire media pool. If he thought he could control me, he was about to find out exactly how fierce I could be.