Chapter.3
807 Words
I didn’t sleep.
Not because Lucien touched me.
But because he didn’t.
He stood in my doorway for a long time after I walked inside. His eyes never left me, even as I pulled off my dress and let it fall to the floor like a declaration.
He watched. Like a man assessing the distance between temptation and strategy.
And then he turned, closed the door behind him, and left me aching in silence.
I should’ve felt victorious.
Instead, I felt hunted.
---
By morning, I was ready for war.
Lucien sat at the head of the dining table, reading the paper like we weren’t tangled in a thousand invisible wires.
“I didn’t realize watching a woman undress and then walking away was your idea of a wedding night,” I said, sliding into the chair across from him.
He didn’t look up. “Restraint is a stronger power play than surrender.”
“You mean fear.”
“I mean control.”
I leaned in, voice low. “You don’t scare me.”
His eyes lifted slowly. “Then you’re either very brave... or very stupid.”
---
At noon, a package arrived for me. No note. Just a box wrapped in matte black ribbon.
Inside: a crimson choker. Velvet. Gold clasp. A diamond charm shaped like a keyhole.
I stared at it too long.
Then I snapped the box shut and stormed into his office.
“You think this is funny?”
Lucien didn’t look up from his laptop. “I think it matches the dress you’re wearing tonight.”
“I’m not wearing this.”
“You are. To the Langston Foundation’s event.”
I laughed, humorless. “You want to parade me again?”
He finally looked up. “I want to own the room. And nothing says control like a woman in red with my collar on her throat.”
He stood.
Walked around the desk.
Stopped inches from me.
“You can walk in beside me,” he said softly, “or behind me. But you will walk in with my mark.”
---
The car was silent.
Lucien sat beside me, legs spread wide, fingers drumming once on his thigh like he was impatient with the way I breathed.
I wore the collar.
Only because I couldn’t stand the idea of losing the power play.
His gaze slid to my neck.
Satisfied.
He said nothing.
But when I shifted to cross my legs, his hand landed on my knee. Possessive. Anchoring.
I didn’t move it.
And that terrified me.
---
The Langston Foundation Gala was held in a glass tower overlooking the city. Rich people with richer sins.
And there—at the bar—was her.
Isadora West.
Lucien’s rumored ex.
Beautiful. Blonde. Brutal.
She spotted me first. Then him. Her expression shifted like she’d just seen a ghost crawl out of a crypt and kiss her ex-husband.
She walked over.
“Oh, Lucien. So this is the new Mrs.”
Lucien offered a cold smile. “Isadora.”
I extended my hand. “Aria Blackthorne.”
Her fingers squeezed too tight. “Sweet name. Very… temporary.”
I smiled wider. “And yours sounds like it’s echoing.”
Lucien’s arm slid around my waist before she could respond. His hand, warm and heavy, settled just beneath my breast.
“She’s not temporary,” he said, looking at me. “She’s inevitable.”
---
I didn’t expect to like how it felt when he said that.
I didn’t expect to crave more.
Which is why I pulled away the moment the limo door closed again that night.
“I’m not your puppet,” I said.
Lucien’s reply was to drag me into the guest bathroom, slam the door, and cage me between his arms.
“I’ve given you space,” he said. “I’ve given you room to run your little games.”
His hand slid up the side of my throat. “But don’t pretend you don’t like it when I pull the strings.”
“Do it, then,” I said, breath hitching. “Pull.”
He kissed me like it was a punishment.
And I kissed him like it was revenge.
---
He didn’t take me that night.
But he almost did.
Hands under my dress, his mouth on my neck, the choker twisted in his grip like a leash he hadn’t yet decided to yank.
But then—
He stopped.
Just like before.
This time, I slapped him.
Hard.
He only smiled.
“Not yet, Aria.”
He left me panting against the sink, legs weak, heart racing.
And that was the moment I realized something terrifying.
Lucien Blackthorne was no longer just a target.
He was a mirror.
And he was starting to show me parts of myself I didn’t want to see.
- Writer
