Ghosts and jealousy
632 Words
Chapter Ten: Ghosts and Jealousy
Saraphina hated the way her heart still reacted to the sound of his voice.
Even when she wanted to punch him.
Especially when she wanted to kiss him.
Lucian had been distant again. After their explosive kiss, after that quiet, vulnerable moment in the kitchen — he'd gone back to being cold steel.
No calls. No notes. Just a ghost in designer suits.
So when she saw a woman walk into the mansion lobby — tall, deadly, gorgeous — she felt something she never liked feeling.
Jealousy.
The woman was dressed in all black, her platinum blonde hair pulled into a tight ponytail, stilettos clicking with every step. She looked like a model, but her eyes? Cold. Calculating. Predator.
And she walked in like she knew the house.
Like she knew Lucian.
Saraphina stepped down from the stairs just as Lucian entered from the west wing. His expression faltered for just a second when he saw the woman.
Then it hardened.
“Dahlia,” he said.
> Dahlia.
Even her name sounded like a weapon.
“Lucian,” the woman purred, lips curving. “Still hiding in mansions and suits, I see.”
Saraphina’s brow rose.
Lucian didn’t respond. His posture was stiff — more guarded than usual. That only made Saraphina more curious.
“I heard about your little wedding,” Dahlia continued, her eyes finally landing on Saraphina. She smiled — sharp, poisonous. “So this is the new Mrs. Blackthorn.”
Saraphina stepped forward slowly, graceful as always.
“Yes,” she said coolly. “And you are?”
Dahlia laughed lightly. “Oh, he didn’t tell you about me? How adorable.”
Lucian stepped between them.
“Dahlia’s leaving,” he said sharply.
“I just got here,” she pouted, clearly amused. “Can’t I at least stay for tea and tension?”
Saraphina’s lips curved — but it wasn’t a smile.
“Oh, stay,” she said, brushing past Lucian. “I’d love to hear what kind of woman climbs out of a man’s graveyard.”
Dahlia’s eyes flared. Just for a moment. Then she grinned wider.
“You’ve got fire,” she said. “That’ll get you killed one day.”
Lucian’s voice snapped through the air.
“Enough.”
The silence that followed was thick.
Dahlia turned to him, voice low. “Does she know what you really are, Lucian? Or is she just another pretty pawn?”
Saraphina stepped in again, eyes locked on the woman.
“I’m a queen,” she said, voice steady. “And queens don't play chess. We end games.”
Dahlia blinked. She looked at Lucian. “You chose well. She’ll burn you alive.”
Lucian didn’t respond. His jaw was tight. His silence said everything.
Finally, Dahlia turned, sauntering to the door like she hadn’t just dropped a grenade.
“Goodbye, Lucian. And good luck, Gem,” she said with venom. “You're going to need it.”
The door closed behind her.
The silence was deafening.
Saraphina looked at him.
“Are we going to talk about that?”
“No,” he said, already walking away.
She followed.
“She called me a pawn.”
Lucian stopped.
“Dahlia was my partner. Once. In… other things.”
Saraphina folded her arms. “And she came back to mark her territory?”
He turned to her, voice hard.
“She came back to remind me who I used to be. And to warn you what I’m capable of.”
Saraphina stepped closer.
“I already know what you’re capable of, Lucian.”
He searched her face, like he was trying to find something — doubt, fear, disgust.
But all he found was strength.
And that scared him more than any bullet.
- Writer
