Gilded Obsession

SCHEMING

Lucilla sat swiveling at her desk in her New Haven office, her mind fixated on Clarice’s birthday party. More specifically, on the exchange she witnessed between Albert and Marcia. It wasn’t just a fleeting moment—she felt it, the tension, the unspoken attraction between them.

Clarice’s shameless obviousness was irrelevant. Albert had too much self-control to ever indulge her. If there was anything he hated, it was a basic scandal. But Marcia—Marcia was a different story. She was a situation that could spiral out of Lucilla’s control faster than she could anticipate if she didn’t act immediately.

Confronting Albert directly was out of the question. Nothing had actually happened, and bringing it up would only make her look paranoid, insecure. But she had seen the way he looked at that girl. Once upon a time, Albert had looked at her like that—with raw hunger, with that deep, carnal want. Over time, the intensity had softened. But with Marcia, she saw it again, unmistakable and searing.

Lucilla toyed with the idea of ignoring it. Let him have her. Let him get it out of his system. But she had zero interest in sharing Albert with anyone, and something about Marcia made her uneasy. This wasn’t just about lust—Marcia had the kind of substance that could make Albert fall in love. The girl was deliberate, calculated. She had enough depth, enough allure, to make a man chase her, and Albert would enjoy the chase. It was too much of a risk.

So should she confront him? The idea lingered, but she immediately saw the flaws. She would look foolish, possessive, like a jealous lover reading too much into a moment at a party. No. If she were to address this, she needed more than fleeting glances and tension. And in the meantime, she had to secure her place in his life in a way no one else could.

She had to make herself indispensable.

But how? That was the problem. Albert was self-sufficient to a fault—that was part of what made him so damn attractive. He needed no one, depended on no one. It was why she was drawn to him in the first place.

What could she offer him that no one else could?

Then, it came to her. His business.

Albert had been talking more and more about expanding his online bespoke footwear brand into physical stores. He could have done it years ago if he had accepted the loan from his parents, but he refused, unwilling to owe them more than he felt he already did. He had a fractured relationship with them—one she had never fully understood but had learned not to question, but she knew it had to do with his father. What if she could help him secure investments? Through her connections in corporate law, she could structure a deal and she had access to people who could make his vision a reality—prime retail spaces in New York, Milan, London. Every major fashion and tourist hotspot.

If she could do that for him, he wouldn’t forget it in a hurry.

Would it be enough to keep him? Or would it only make him feel indebted, beholden? Knowing him, he would see through the timing of her effort. He was perceptive like that. But it was her only play, and more importantly, it was something Marcia could never offer him.

Rising from her desk, she exhaled slowly. There was someone in the office who could set things in motion. She smoothed down her skirt, squared her shoulders, and made her way toward his office. It was time to have a conversation.

Albert pulled into Lucilla’s apartment complex in Middletown, about forty minutes from West Hartford. It was a sleek, high-rise development, the kind designed for young professionals who liked their luxury understated but ever-present. He stepped out of his car and took in the building’s façade—polished stone, expansive glass, minimalist lighting.

When she buzzed him in, he made his way up to her floor, greeted by an unfamiliar soft scent of vanilla and something floral the moment she opened the door.

“You got different scented candles,” he said, stepping in, taking stock. The decor was modern but warm—soft neutrals, expensive-looking furniture, and floor-to-ceiling windows that let the city lights spill in.

Lucilla smirked, closing the door behind him. She loved that he noticed these things. “What’d you think?”

He gave her a look, shrugging out of his coat. “I like this one better, smells like ice cream.”

She handed him a glass of wine and motioned for him to sit. “It does, I was starting to feel like the last scent rather made it smell like a hooker’s boudoir.”

Albert laughed, settling into the plush couch. “Fair enough. Glad I wasn’t the one to break the news.”

She gasped, then playfully slapped him on his shoulder, studied him for a beat, then exhaled. “So, I’ve been thinking.”

“That’s always dangerous.”

She rolled her eyes but smiled. “You know how serious you’ve been about expanding your bespoke footwear business to brick and mortar?”

“Yeah?” He watched her carefully.

“Well… I can help.” She said, rolling her head.

Albert arched a brow. “Help… how?”

Lucilla set her glass down and leaned forward slightly. “I work with people—people who have money to invest and are always looking for high-potential brands. You’ve built something solid online, but taking it into the physical retail space? That’ll take some doing.”

From the kitchen nearby, the microwave beeped loudly.

‘’Would you like some pizza?’’ Lucilla asked.

‘’Absolutely, I’m starving’’ he said, dragging out the ‘s’

‘’Alright hang on’’ She said as she made for the kitchen.

A few moments later she returned with a plate containing four extra-large slices of thin-crusted white clam pizza.

‘’Thanks babe, these look so good’’ he said, taking a bite.

‘’This from Jerry’s?’’

She frowned ‘’uhh… no from Zephyr’s’’

‘’Really…Hmm’’

‘’So, you were saying’’

He swirled the wine in his glass. ‘’Yeah, you know I’ve considered investors before. Not a fan of losing control over my own brand.”

“That’s the thing,” she countered smoothly. “I’m not talking about some corporate entity swallowing you whole." I’m talking about the right kind of backing, the kind that respects your vision but gives you the capital and connections to put your stores in the prime spots—New York, Milan, London. I know the people who can make that happen. Heck, I represent some of them.”

Albert studied her, taking a slow sip of wine before speaking. “And why are you offering this now?”

Lucilla met his gaze steadily. “Because I know you, Albert." I knew you wouldn’t be receptive, plus we both know you know where to get the money from without any help from me and we both know you’re going to make it big, with or without my help. But I also know the kind of obstacles and minutiae you hate dealing with. This? I can clear the path for you. I would even handle the relationships for you, so you can focus on managing the business side, you’d hardly ever have to deal with them, except when absolutely necessary.”

He didn’t answer immediately. He just watched her, taking in the measured way she presented it, the deliberate casualness, the careful threading of personal and professional interest. Lucilla always played the long game.

“This sounds like it’s about more than just business,” he finally said.

Well, I have to go all in now, Lucilla thought.

She tilted her head slightly. “I’d be lying if I said I didn’t have personal stakes in this. For one, standing on business, if executed properly, particularly from a marketing perspective, I know the money will keep us in new shoes till kingdom. And, I want to be involved in more of your life, Albert, I’ve made no secret of this, and if there’s no route to long-term permanence as far as our relationship is concerned, then perhaps that’s a conversation we should have very soon, soon as in now.”

It was quite a gamble. Lucilla had gone off script, but she had to. He had seen through her as he anticipated, so she had to be as real as possible, without giving ultimatums. She knew Albert well enough to know that her approach wouldn’t put him off, it was more likely to endear her to him. He always appreciated sincere expressions of devotion. Her motives may be construed to be selfish, but no one could accuse her of lacking devotion to him, and he knew it.

Albert let that settle between them, the weight of what was unspoken hanging in the air. Then he smirked. “And here I thought you just invited me over for the wine.”

She reached out and took the glass from him.

Lucilla’s lips curved as she set her glass aside. “If I only wanted to talk business, I would’ve taken you to lunch.”

She moved closer, her knee brushing his. He could smell her perfume now, the subtle hint of something warm and familiar. His hand found her thigh without much thought, fingers grazing over the silk of her dress.

“You know,” he murmured, “you’re dangerously persuasive.”

Lucilla leaned in, her lips ghosting over his. “I know.”

He didn’t need further invitation. He kissed her, slow at first, then deeper, pulling her onto his lap. Her hands slid under his shirt, nails raking lightly down his back.

By the time they made it to her bedroom, clothes were a forgotten formality.

After, they lay tangled in her sheets, the city lights filtering through the window, painting their bare skin in a soft glow. Lucilla traced absent patterns on his chest while Albert stared at the ceiling, catching his breath.

“You’ll think about it?” she asked after a moment.

He turned his head, looking at her. “The investment?”

She nodded.

Albert exhaled. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

A slow, knowing smile curved her lips. “Good.”