75

Moore

“Finally…” I let out underneath my breath the moment Lucien was called up to the stage for his vote of thanks.

Parties like this were never my cup of tea. I glanced at the time on my phone screen, it was just a few minutes to twelve midnight.

The night was finally coming to an end, slipping away as though nothing humiliating had happened. I had expected Lucien to either take Grey’s side or, worse, humiliate me himself, but the fact that the night passed without incident left me unsettled.

When in Italy, I had thought my coming to London was just to show to the world yet again how my husband hates me. But he had stood for me.

After the unveiling of the product which Lucien handled effortlessly, our eyes met briefly while he was delivering yet another speech. That was the only acknowledgement I got from him. A single glance. Nothing more.

“...It's with profound pleasure I thank you all for honoring this call at such short notice. Cheers to many great achievements in London and every other country across the world…”

His voice was just so perfect. Not like I care, but every woman seemed to be enchanted just hearing his voice and on many occasions I had to bear death threatening stares from most of them.

If stare could kill, I would have dropped dead the very moment I walked in alongside Lucien.

I tried to distract myself, to move, to talk, to do anything, but I could still feel the weight of everyone's stares. They tried not to look at me for too long, as if afraid of what Lucien might do. Not that he cared. But Lillard did. His sharp, warning glares at anyone who dared to stare longer than necessary told me everything I needed to know.

Lucien had put me under watch.

I didn’t know if that was supposed to comfort me or make me feel even more suffocated.

As the night dragged on, a sharp pain twisted in my stomach. I clenched my fists, trying to ignore it, but the discomfort only worsened.

I needed to use the restroom.

I turned to leave, but the moment I moved, Lillard stepped forward.

I raised an eyebrow at him. “Can I not have some privacy?”

His expression remained blank. “Five minutes. If you’re not out, I’ll drag you out myself.”

I let out a humorless scoff. “Of course you will.”

I walked off, feeling his gaze burning into my back.

As I made my way to the restroom, a strange feeling settled over me. That unsettling sensation of being watched.

I turned my head slightly, and for a split second, I caught someone staring at me. A man.

Something about him felt eerily familiar.

But before I could get a better look, he was gone.

I shivered, a strange unease creeping up my spine. But I brushed it off and entered the restroom.

The moment I locked the stall door behind me, I let out a shaky breath. Finally, I could breathe.

I looked at myself in the mirror, and for the first time that night, I allowed my exhaustion to show. My face was pale, my eyes hollow.

I refused to cry.

Shaking off the thoughts swirling in my head, I turned and sat down, ready to relieve myself—only for a sharp, stabbing pain to shoot through my abdomen, again.

I sucked in a breath, my body tensing as the pain worsened.

Only on one condition will my stomach hurt this bad and I couldn't help but hope it's not it.

I pushed down my underwear and glanced down at it.

Blood.

My stomach twisted.

Shit.

How could I be so clueless as to lose track of my cycle?

A fresh wave of pain hit me, making my head spin. I clenched my jaw, gripping the edge of the stall to steady myself. This was bad. This was really bad.

I needed help.

I reached for my phone, but then I hesitated. Who was I supposed to call?

I didn’t have Lillard’s number. And Lucien… I shook my head. No. There was no way I was calling him.

I tried to take a deep breath, but the pain made it difficult. Sweat beaded at my forehead despite how cold the restroom was.

I must have been in here longer than five minutes, but when I glanced at the door, no one came barging in.

I swallowed hard, my voice barely above a whisper. “Hello?”

Silence.

I clenched my fists. Fuck Grey. Fuck Nora. Fuck the alcohol that got me into this mess.

Just as I leaned my head against the wall, my phone rang.

I flinched at the sudden sound and fumbled to grab it. The caller ID flashed an unknown number.

Maybe Lillard?

I answered with shaking hands. “Hello?”

A pause. Then a deep, cold voice came through.

“Where are you?”

My breath caught in my throat.

Lucien.

His tone was sharp, commanding. Like he had no patience to waste.

“In the restroom…” I murmured weakly, my voice barely about a whisper.

Another pause.

Then the call ended.

I blinked at the screen.

What the hell?

I stared at my phone, waiting for it to ring again, expecting him to send Lillard. But when the screen remained dark, my stomach clenched harder.

If only he had not hung up on me, I would have told him what I needed.

I closed my eyes, trying to ride out the pain. Maybe I could hold on a little longer—

The phone rang again.

Lucien.

I barely had time to process it before the restroom door was suddenly forced open.

A rush of cold air hit me.

And then there he was, his body filling the entire space of where I was, my face burning from shame of how vulnerable I was in his presence.

Lucien.

His presence filled the space instantly, suffocating, commanding. He stood at the doorway, phone still pressed to his ear, his piercing blue eyes scanning the restroom.

And then his gaze landed on me.

His cold, unreadable eyes dragged over my trembling form, and for a long moment, he just stared.

Then, in a voice that made my breath hitch, he spoke.

“You’re not in trouble?”

I blinked.

That was what he came here for?

Not to yell at me? Not to throw some snide remark about how pathetic I looked?

My lips parted, but I had no words.

Because for the first time, I realized— or thought he was worried and so had to run down here himself.

“You're worried about…”

Before I could finish my sentence, his eyes darted downward at my exposed legs in-between stained underwear.

“Is that blood?”