Get a grip, Victoria!
1691 Words
Victoria's POV
I woke up forgetting that my life was falling apart.
That was the first thing that scared me.
The bed was impossibly soft, the kind that swallowed your body and refused to let go, sheets cool and clean against my skin. For a few blessed seconds, I lay there staring at the high ceiling, my mind empty, my chest light, my heart not racing for once. No James. No office badge that didn't work. No mother-shaped betrayal clawing at my ribs. No Lydia telling me what and what not to do.
Just silence.
Warmth.
Safety.
I turned my face into the pillow and inhaled. Everything smelled faintly of cedar. The air felt clean, expensive, grounding. I had slept like I hadn't slept in months. Not the kind of sleep where you wake up tired and haunted, but real sleep. The kind that stitched something back together inside you.
Last night came back to me in pieces.
The bath first.
The tub had been enormous, carved stone, the water steaming and scented with something floral and rich. I remembered sinking into it, my sore muscles melting, my fingers wrinkling as I stayed longer than I should have. I remembered thinking, distantly, that no one in my life had ever made space for me to rest like that. Not James. Not my family. Not even myself.
Then the bed. The way my body had gone slack the moment I lay down. The way unconsciousness had claimed me before I could spiral.
Almost before I could think.
Almost.
The memory that followed tightened my chest.
The sound.
Low. Distant. Guttural.
I had been half-asleep when I heard it, my dreams blurring at the edges. A deep sound, not quite a howl, not quite a growl. It had vibrated through the walls rather than pierced them, like it came from the earth itself. I remembered sitting up, heart hammering, listening as it faded into the night.
Lucien's voice followed the memory, calm and absolute.
No matter what you hear, don't step outside after dark. Never alone.
I knew it was crazy for me to spend the night at Lucien's manor but I saw it as a reset. A change of environment, somewhere I could relax before thinking of how to fix my life. Heck, I think Bree would be proud of me. Good food, good room, almost like a vacation but it did make me wonder what the catch was, what was in it for Lucien?
My relationship with my mother? I have no idea if I could ever forgive her because what could possibly be her reason for sleeping with James? She literally shipped us together. And then she tried to manipulate me into talking to her by calling Lydia?
James thought he could get back at me for rejecting him by getting me fired but it just helped me realize what a bullet I dodged. I'm beginning to resent that bastard, I think my heart finally returned to default settings.
I pushed myself upright now, the warning echoing uncomfortably clear.
Sunlight filtered through heavy curtains, pale gold and harmless. Morning. Whatever I'd heard last night had stayed outside these walls. Wherever outside even was.
I slid my feet onto the floor and stood, padding toward the windows. When I pulled the curtains back, my breath caught.
The manor sat on land that didn't feel like land so much as territory.
Wide lawns rolled outward before abruptly giving way to tall iron fencing, thick and uninviting. Beyond that, the greenery grew wild, dense, overgrown, unlit. Trees clustered too close together, their shadows still dark even in daylight. Signs were posted along the perimeter, stark white against green.
PRIVATE PROPERTY.
RESTRICTED ACCESS.
NO TRESPASSING.
This wasn't some scenic estate. This was containment.
I swallowed and stepped back from the window.
Get a grip, Victoria.
I showered, dressed in the clothes Maeve had left for me. It was a pretty floral dress and I made my way downstairs. The manor felt different in daylight. Less ominous. Grand, yes, but lived-in. Real.
__
I should have let Lucien help me.
That was the thought burning through my head as I stood at the long dining table, staring down at the sleek stainless-steel mandoline slicer like it was a personal insult.
Everything in this house felt like it came with instructions no one bothered to give me. Appliances I had never seen before, it was all too complicated, too luxurious. It took me thirty minutes to figure out how the tap worked last night.
"I can do it," I said too quickly, fingers gripping the vegetable I was trying to slice thin. "I've used one before."
That was a lie.
Lucien leaned against the edge of the table, arms crossed, watching me struggle with an expression that suggested he knew exactly what I was doing, and why.
"You don't have to prove anything," he said calmly.
I bristled. "I'm not."
He stepped closer anyway. "It's sharp. Let me—"
"I said I've got it."
The words had barely left my mouth when everything went wrong.
The blade caught at the wrong angle. My hand slipped. Lucien reached out instinctively, his arm crossing mine as he tried to steady the slicer.
The sound wasn't loud.
Just a wet, awful rip.
Blood splattered across the polished wood of the dining table, bright and shocking against the dark surface.
"Oh my God," I gasped.
The mandoline clattered to the floor. I stared at his arm, at the deep gash torn through skin and muscle, blood already pouring freely.
"I'm so sorry, Lucien, I didn't mean to, I swear—"
"It's fine," he said, too fast.
It wasn't fine.
Blood dripped onto the floor now, thick and steady. I grabbed the nearest cloth, white linen, of course, and pressed it to his arm, panic clawing its way up my throat.
"Sit down," I ordered, my voice shaking. "You're bleeding everywhere."
"I said it's fine."
But I didn't listen. I couldn't. My hands were trembling as I pressed harder, already imagining hospitals, stitches, lawsuits.
Then the bleeding slowed.
I blinked.
The cloth in my hands felt lighter.
I pulled it back slowly.
The wound was closing.
Not scabbing. Not sealing the way skin sometimes does when pressure works.
Closing.
Muscle drew together beneath smooth olive skin. The torn edges knit like they were being pulled by invisible thread. In seconds, the gash was gone, no scar, no mark, nothing but perfectly unbroken flesh where blood had been moments ago.
My breath hitched painfully.
I stared.
Then I looked up at him.
Lucien had gone completely still.
"That's not-" My voice came out hoarse. "That's not possible."
Silence stretched between us, thick enough to choke on.
He reached for the cloth and folded it neatly, as if we'd just spilled water instead of witnessed something that shattered physics.
"You're overtired," he said carefully. "Yesterday was a lot."
"No," I whispered. "I saw it."
His eyes met mine, dark and unreadable.
"I asked how you slept this morning," he said quietly. "You didn't answer."
I swallowed. "I slept fine. Too fine."
A pause.
"Did you hear anything last night?" he asked.
The low, guttural sound echoed in my memory. The way it had vibrated through the walls.
"Yes," I admitted. "Something outside."
His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.
"I told you not to go out after dark."
"I didn't," I said quickly. "I swear. I stayed in the room."
He studied me for a long moment, then nodded once.
"Good."
My heart was still racing. My thoughts were spiraling.
"Lucien," I said. "Your arm—"
"I want to offer you a position," he interrupted, taking a sip from his wine.
The sudden shift threw me. "What?"
"A job," he said evenly. "Here. Working for me."
I laughed weakly. "You're changing the subject."
"No," he replied. "I'm giving you an anchor."
He stepped back, giving me space but not relief.
"You've lost your job. Your housing situation is unstable. Your car is a bad shape. You're under stress you don't fully understand yet." His gaze sharpened. "I can fix that."
"And what do you get?" I asked.
A beat.
"You," he said. "Where I can keep an eye on you."
That should have scared me more than it did. Did he just ask me out, weirdly?
Before I could respond, my phone buzzed in my pocket.
The sound sliced through the room.
I pulled it out.
Unknown number.
My stomach dropped.
A video thumbnail loaded on my screen.
I didn't press play.
I didn't need to.
It was a s*x tape. James told me if I truly loved him, we would explore his fantasies together and one of them was role-playing. b**m, The mayor and the maid.
It was last year, I swear, I didn't want to do it. But James was beginning to zone out of the relationship. He picked up fights every chance he's got. I just wanted to save our relationship and prove my love to him.
The message followed immediately.
"You really thought humiliating me and walking away was an option? You embarrassed me. In public. You let that man make me look weak."
My hands started to shake.
"And don't get it twisted, I don't regret your mother. You drove me to it. You have twenty-four hours to meet me, accept my ring, make an apology video or this goes everywhere."
Tears blurred my vision.
I couldn't breathe. I was beginning to have a panic attack.
Lucien was beside me in an instant.
He didn't ask to see the phone.
He didn't need to.
He took one look at my face, at the way my body had gone rigid, and something in him shifted. The air felt heavier. Sharper.
"What did he do?" His grip on his wine glass tightened until it shattered, breaking the awkward silence.
I looked up at him, my world tilting.
And for the first time since yesterday, I knew one thing for certain. Whatever Lucien was, James had just made him my only option.
Way to f**k up my day!
Sincerely, James.
- Writer
