Married To My Dead Husband Brother

Ten

The last thing I remembered was the solid warmth of Lucian’s chest under my cheek and the quiet way his hand kept stroking the back of my head.

After that, everything went dark.

I must have cried myself into exhaustion. One moment I was still clutching his shirt, tears soaking into the fabric, and the next there was only the heavy pull of sleep. I didn’t feel him lift me off the desk. I didn’t hear the soft orders he gave his men. I didn’t see the way the entire eightieth floor went still as he walked out of his office with me in his arms.

But the staff did.

They watched with sideways glances as their boss, the man who never brought anyone into the building, the man who barely looked at the women who tried to get close, carried a sleeping girl toward the private elevator. Bodyguards formed a tight circle around them. No one dared speak while he was still there. The moment the elevator doors closed and the car disappeared into the underground parking, the whispers started.

“Did you see that?”

“He’s never brought a woman here before.”

“She was crying. Hard.”

“He called her his wife…”

None of them knew the full story. They only knew that something had shifted. For the first time, the Devil of the Blackwood empire had shown a soft place.

In the back of the black SUV, Lucian settled my sleeping body carefully across his lap. One arm stayed under my knees, the other curved around my back so my head rested against his shoulder. My face was still damp. My fingers had loosened their death grip on his shirt, but they still held a small piece of the fabric like they refused to let go completely. He looked down at me for a long time as the city lights moved past the tinted windows. His thumb brushed once under my eye, wiping away a tear that had slipped free even in sleep.

When the car finally stopped under the covered entrance of his mansion, he carried me inside without waking me. The guards followed at a respectful distance. Maids stepped aside quickly, eyes lowered. No one asked questions. He took the stairs two at a time and went straight to the master suite. The bed was still unmade from the morning. He laid me down carefully on the soft sheets, then reached to pull the blanket over me.

The moment he started to straighten, my hand tightened on his shirt again.

“Don’t leave me…”

The words were soft, barely a breath, spoken while I was still deep in sleep. My fingers twisted in the fabric like they were afraid he would disappear if they let go.

Lucian froze.

For a second he just stared down at me. Then something in his expression shifted, something raw and almost painful. He sat on the edge of the bed, then slowly stretched out beside me. One arm slid under my shoulders and pulled me against his chest. His free hand came up to caress my face, fingers gentle against my tear stained cheek.

“I thought I lost you forever, Eva,” he muttered under his breath, so quiet the words almost disappeared into the silence of the room.

He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to my forehead. Then another to the bridge of my nose. Then one more, light and careful, to the corner of my lips. He stayed there for a long moment, breathing me in, before he finally closed his eyes and let sleep take him too.

---

When I opened my eyes again the room was darker.

Soft light from the city outside the tall windows painted the walls in muted blue. I yawned, still half asleep, and shifted slightly, only to realize a solid arm was locked around my waist and my cheek was resting against a warm chest. The steady beat of a heart thumped under my ear. The scent of Lucian’s cologne mixed with the faint smell of his skin filled every breath I took.

I was in his arms.

My body went still. Memories of the office came flooding back, Catherine’s hand reaching for me, the old panic, the way I had completely broken down while clutching his shirt, the tears that wouldn’t stop. Heat rushed into my face. I had fallen apart in front of him. I had cried until I passed out. And somehow I had ended up here, held against him like something precious.

“Go take your bath.”

Lucian’s voice was low and calm above my head. He was already awake, phone in one hand, the soft glow of the screen lighting the sharp lines of his face. He didn’t look at me when he spoke. He simply continued scrolling, as if waking up with me pressed against him was the most natural thing in the world.

I sat up slowly, pushing my messy hair out of my face. My eyes still felt swollen from crying. Without a word I slid off the bed and walked toward the en suite bathroom, feeling his gaze follow me the entire way.

The bathroom door clicked shut behind me.

I leaned against it for a second, heart beating too fast, then turned on the shower. Hot water poured down, filling the large glass stall with steam. I stripped out of my clothes and stepped under the spray, letting it wash over my face and shoulders. The heat felt good against my skin. For a while I just stood there, eyes closed, trying to process everything that had happened in the last few hours.

Catherine’s voice. Lucian’s cold order. The way he had wiped my tears without telling me to stop. The soft kisses he must have given me while I was asleep. The way he had stayed.

My body was still wound tight from the panic earlier. The water helped, but not enough. My mind kept drifting back to the feeling of his hands on my face, the solid wall of his chest, the quiet way he had held me while I fell apart. A strange heat began to build low in my stomach—unwanted, confusing, and impossible to ignore. I pressed my forehead against the cool tile and tried to push it away.

It didn’t leave.

My hand moved almost without permission, sliding down my wet skin. A soft, muffled sound escaped my throat before I could stop it. I bit my lip hard, trying to stay quiet, but another quiet moan slipped out anyway, swallowed by the rush of the water.

In the bedroom, Lucian’s phone screen went dark.

He lifted his head slightly, listening.

A few more soft, stifled sounds drifted through the bathroom door, quiet, breathy, like someone trying very hard not to be heard.

The corner of his mouth curved into a slow, dark smile.