Chapter 3: The Kiss That Started a War
936 Words
The doors slammed shut behind Lady Seraphina and the council elders.
Silence filled the private dining room.
My pulse thundered in my ears.
Lucien Blackthorn still had one arm around my waist.
And his lips had only just left my temple.
I stepped away so fast my chair scraped the floor.
“What was that?”
He looked entirely unbothered.
“A message.”
“To who?”
“To everyone.”
I stared at him. “You kissed me to make a point?”
“It worked.”
“You used me!”
His silver eyes narrowed.
“No.”
“Then what would you call it?”
He stepped closer.
“Instinct.”
That answer was somehow worse.
I crossed my arms, trying to calm my racing heart.
“You cannot drag me into your family politics.”
“I didn’t drag you,” he said coolly. “You walked in and ruined my peace all on your own.”
My mouth fell open.
“I ruined your peace?”
“Yes.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“I’ve been told.”
I turned away before I said something reckless.
The city lights shimmered beyond the glass walls, beautiful and distant.
I should leave.
I should demand to return downstairs.
I should stop noticing how warm the room felt when he was near.
Instead, I said, “Your fiancée looked ready to kill me.”
“She isn’t my fiancée.”
“She thinks she is.”
“That sounds like her problem.”
I spun back to face him.
“No, Lucien. It becomes my problem when powerful women hate me.”
For a moment, his teasing expression vanished.
He walked toward me slowly.
Then he said quietly, “No one touches what is under my protection.”
My breath caught.
“I don’t need your protection.”
“Everyone needs protection.”
“Not from you?”
His gaze darkened.
“Especially from me.”
The honesty in that answer unsettled me more than arrogance ever could.
Later that night, I stood in the bedroom assigned to me.
It was larger than the house I grew up in.
A velvet bed, moonlit windows, silver curtains, a private bath bigger than my old kitchen.
I should have felt lucky.
Instead, I felt trapped.
A knock sounded.
Before I could answer, Lucien entered carrying a tray.
“You don’t knock and wait?”
“No.”
He placed the tray on the table.
Tea. Fruit. Warm pastries.
“I didn’t ask for this.”
“You also didn’t ask to be hungry.”
He glanced at the untouched wardrobe.
“You haven’t unpacked.”
“I own one bag.”
His jaw flexed.
He looked almost angry.
At me?
At my life?
“I’ll have clothes brought tomorrow.”
“I don’t want your money.”
“Good,” he said. “Because I’m offering comfort, not charity.”
I hated when he said things that made arguing harder.
He moved toward the window, hands in his pockets.
“Tomorrow there’s a board meeting.”
I blinked. “Why are you telling me?”
“Because you’re coming.”
I laughed.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“I’m a maid.”
“You were a maid.”
“I know nothing about billion-dollar companies.”
“You know people.”
“That is not the same thing.”
“It matters more.”
I stared at him.
“Why me?”
He turned.
Moonlight sharpened his face into something almost unreal.
“Because every room I walk into is full of liars.”
His gaze settled on mine.
“You look me in the eye and call me unbearable.”
I tried not to smile.
“Takes courage.”
“It takes accuracy.”
That slow smile appeared again.
Dangerous thing.
The next morning, the mansion buzzed with gossip.
Servants whispered when I passed.
Nobles visiting for breakfast stared openly.
By noon, I stood outside a gleaming black car in a fitted cream dress someone had left in my room.
Lucien emerged in a dark suit, looking like sin wrapped in power.
He paused when he saw me.
Something primal flashed in his eyes.
“What?” I asked nervously.
“That dress is a problem.”
“It’s just fabric.”
“No,” he murmured. “It’s temptation.”
Heat flooded my cheeks.
He opened the car door for me.
Inside, I tried to ignore how close he sat.
“How many women have ridden in this car?” I muttered.
He looked amused.
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m curious.”
“You’re jealous.”
“I’d rather walk.”
He laughed—a real one this time.
Deep and warm.
It startled me enough that I stared.
“What?”
“I’ve never heard you laugh.”
“Then provoke me more often.”
The car stopped outside a glass skyscraper marked with the Blackthorn crest.
Reporters swarmed instantly.
Cameras flashed.
Voices shouted.
“Alpha Lucien! Who is the woman?”
“Is she your mistress?”
“Are wedding rumors true?”
My body tensed.
Lucien reached for my hand.
I resisted for one second.
Then let him take it.
His fingers threaded through mine.
Strong. Certain.
He leaned near my ear as the doors opened.
“Stay close, little maid.”
My heartbeat stumbled.
Then he stepped out, pulling me into a storm of cameras.
And on the opposite side of the crowd—
Lady Seraphina stood waiting.
Smiling.
Like she had already planned my destruction.
- Writer
