Chapter.2
795 Words
I closed the bedroom door behind me, heart pounding like it had something to confess.
Lucien’s words followed me into the silence.
> “If you’re playing me, Aria, you’d better be a damn good actress.”
He didn’t say it like a threat. He said it like a promise.
I stood in front of the vanity, staring at my reflection. The diamond on my left hand caught the light, refracting a thousand cold little stars across the room.
Mrs. Lucien Blackthorne.
What a beautiful lie.
---
The next morning, I woke to chaos on every screen.
> “BLACKTHORNE MARRIED IN SECRET CEREMONY”
“WHO IS THE WOMAN WHO SNAGGED THE ICE KING?”
“THE MYSTERY WIFE: ARIA VALE SPEAKS OUT?”
I hadn't spoken to anyone.
Lucien was already dressed when I entered the kitchen, sipping black coffee like the world hadn’t just imploded online. Crisp white shirt. Rolex. Perfectly controlled.
“I see the media loves a surprise,” I said, pouring myself a coffee.
“They love blood in the water,” he corrected. “You’re the bait. I’m the shark.”
I smiled sweetly. “And I’m not afraid of sharks.”
He looked at me then—really looked. “You should be.”
---
Later that day, a delivery arrived. Boxes. Luxury labels. All size-matched.
“Consider it your new wardrobe,” Lucien said, leaning against the doorway as I unboxed a black velvet slip dress. “If you’re going to play the part of my wife, you need to look like you belong.”
I turned to him, dress still in hand. “And what part am I playing, exactly?”
He crossed the room slowly, took the dress, and dragged the fabric along my collarbone.
“The part where you make every man want you—and every woman wonder how you got me.”
I swallowed hard.
“And you?” I asked.
“What about me?”
“Do you wonder?”
Lucien’s lips curved. “I don’t wonder. I own.”
---
That night, he took me to a charity gala hosted by his company.
I wore the slip dress. No bra. No protection. No armor.
Eyes turned as we entered. Flashes went off like gunfire. Lucien’s arm curled around my waist like a leash.
“You like parading me?” I whispered.
“I like reminding them I have what they can’t touch.”
“You don’t have me,” I snapped, voice low.
His mouth brushed my ear, breath hot. “Not yet.”
---
Inside, I played my part. Polished. Perfect. Smiling on cue.
But when Lucien walked away to speak with shareholders, I let my eyes wander.
I didn’t expect to meet the gaze of Graham Langston, the man whose testimony helped bankrupt my father.
He approached with an oily smile and champagne.
“I thought Vale Industries collapsed,” he said casually. “But here you are. Rebranded. Resurrected.”
My breath hitched. He knew.
Before I could reply, Lucien returned.
He didn’t speak. Didn’t ask. Just took my glass, set it down, and kissed me.
Full mouth. Tongue. Possession.
The whole room stopped.
When he finally pulled back, he whispered, “Stop looking at ghosts, Aria. They can’t touch you. I can.”
---
We left early.
No words exchanged in the car.
Once inside the penthouse, I kicked off my heels and walked straight past him.
Lucien grabbed my wrist.
“You lied.”
I stilled.
“About what?”
“That man. Langston. You knew him.”
I turned slowly. “Knowing someone and hating them aren’t mutually exclusive.”
His grip tightened—just enough to remind me who he was.
“I don’t like being made to look like a fool.”
I stepped in closer, toe to toe. “Then don’t be one.”
His eyes burned. “Don’t test me, Aria.”
I smiled. “Or what? You’ll kiss me again?”
---
The air fractured.
Lucien let go of my wrist—but didn’t move away.
Instead, his hand skimmed down my arm, fingers ghosting over bare skin. The heat between us ignited like dry kindling.
“You think this is a game,” he said, voice low. “You think wearing my ring means you’re untouchable.”
“I think you’re trying very hard to make me afraid of you.”
“And you’re trying very hard to make me want you.”
He stepped forward. I stepped back. Until my spine hit the bedroom door.
His mouth brushed mine.
“I’m not afraid to want what I own.”
The door opened behind me. He didn’t push. I walked in on my own.
And he followed.
- Writer
