76

Lucien

"Hmmm" I hummed, my voice was calm, but my eyes were mischievous as they flicked downward to the stain on her underwear.

Moore followed my gaze, her breath hitching before she scrambled to cover herself. But it was too late—I had already seen it.

"N…nothing," she stammered, her voice small.

I tilted my head, my mind already making sense of what I saw. She was bleeding. It was that time of the month. I had seen it before. First with my sister when I was in high school, then with Felicity when she moved in with me. I knew how both of them grumbled through the week, irritated and uncomfortable. And now, Moore was in the same state.

A few minutes ago, Lillard had come to me just as I was about to return to the property. He reported that Moore had disappeared. He had claimed she was going to the restroom, but thirty minutes had passed, and she hadn't returned.

Lillard checked the restrooms but found nothing. He suspected she had either run away or had been taken.

The idea of her running made my lips twitch. Moore wasn’t the type to run in such a manner. Not yet, at least. So instead of wasting time speculating, I reached into my pocket and dialed her number. I had bought her that phone, which meant I had full access to it.

When she answered, her voice was weak, barely above a whisper. Pain laced her words, and something in me shifted.

Lillard had offered to go after her, but I stopped him with a raised hand. I didn’t need anyone else handling this. My strides were slow, deliberate, but every step forward was a fight against the instinct to rush.

Inside the female restroom, I called her line again. The moment I heard her soft whimper, something in me cracked.

And now, here she was—trapped under my gaze, embarrassed beyond belief. Her shoulders curled inward, her head lowered as if she wished the ground would swallow her whole.

A small twitch tugged at the corner of my lips. She looked... adorable like this.

"What do you need?" I asked, turning my head slightly to the side. Not because I was disgusted, strangely I wasn’t. I just wanted to give her space, to let her catch her breath without my eyes pinning her down.

"Privacy…" she muttered, her head tilting slightly to the side while she pressed her legs together.

I narrowed my eyes. "What?"

Had she forgotten who she belonged to? Her body, everything is mine.

What's there to hide when I had already saw her at her lowest.

"I mean… you're not supposed to be in here with me, glaring at me that way. It’s uncomfortable."

I raised an eyebrow. "I'm not watching, Moore."

Then why the hell was I still here? The woman wanted privacy, yet I lingered.

"You're supposed to be disgusted…" she whispered, still avoiding my gaze.

Disgusted? Did she expect me to flinch at something natural?

I exhaled sharply before stepping out of the small space, shutting the door quietly behind me.

"What do you need? I don't have all day, Moore."

Her name rolled off my tongue too easily.

"Some… um, toiletries," she stammered. "You can ask any female staff or something… they’ll understand—"

"Understand that you need sanitary pads?"

She coughed slightly, clearly taken aback by my bluntness. Was she always this innocent?

"Y-yes. I really don’t want to bother you,” she paused, possibly finding the best way to say it, “but if you could ask for a new set of… something to wear inside, like some shorts…"

I didn’t wait for her to finish. I had no patience for her fumbling explanations. Without a word, I stepped away, pulling my phone from my pocket.

I knew she was in pain. The way her face was slightly scrunched, the tension in her body as she tried to suppress it.

I dialed Lillard.

"Get someone to bring sanitary pads, new underwear, and some pain relief. Immediately."

"Yes, sir," Lillard responded without hesitation.

I slid my hands back into my pockets and took a few steps away, but for some reason, I couldn’t bring myself to leave completely.

Felicity had suffered unbearable pain during those months too—it had only stopped when she got pregnant with Ava.

A strange unease settled in my chest as I recalled the way Moore winced earlier. What if she was in more pain than she let on? What if something was wrong?

Had I been too rough with her last week?

A cold chill ran through me. She would be checked the moment we returned to Italy—I would make sure of it.

Why the hell was I still here?

I had no reason to linger in this empty hallway. Whatever I was doing—waiting—was only to ensure that my submissive and wife was alright.

That was all.

I couldn’t trust Arthur not to make a move on her. That was the only reason I remained. Nothing more.

"Mr. Giordano."

Lillard’s voice snapped me from my thoughts. I turned to him.

"Shall I have this delivered to Mrs. Giordano? I’ll make sure she’s okay."

My gaze flicked to him at the name he used. Mrs. Giordano. A few weeks ago, I would have found it repulsive. Now? I felt... neutral. And having Lillard called her that despite the warnings I gave them..

"No," I replied curtly. "Have the car ready. She's riding with me."

Without waiting for a response, I headed back to the restroom.

I pushed the door open and handed her the bag, keeping the pain relief in my hand. She took the items with a shy "Thank you," her voice barely above a whisper. I didn’t linger. Just turned on my heel and left her to tend to herself.

Outside, I stood by the car, my phone pressed to my ear as I took a call from David.

"Sir," David's voice came through the line. "There’s been an issue with the Venice deal. The investors are reconsidering the terms, and it's causing delays."

"Why?" I asked, my voice calm. This would be Arthur's doing. He's trying against odds to make every project and contract diverted to him. Lame.

"They want a higher percentage. Their lawyers sent a revised contract this morning."

"That’s not happening. We had an agreement. If they’re trying to negotiate last minute, shut it down."

David sighed. "I figured you’d say that. I’ll push back, but they’re claiming—"

"They’re stalling," I cut in. "Give them two choices: sign the contract as it is or walk away. No third option."

"Understood, sir," David replied. "I’ll handle it."

"Good."

Just then, Moore stepped out of the building. She was walking toward the car, her movements stiff. She was in pain, trying to conceal it, but I noticed everything—the slight tremble in her steps, the way she clenched her fists as if trying to stop it.

Then, just a few steps from the entrance, she tripped.

Before she could hit the ground, I was there, my body moving before my mind could catch up.

I caught her, my arms locking around her waist.

The speed at which I reached her left us both stunned.

Rather than dwell on what had just happened, I ended the call, slipped my phone into my pocket, and lifted Moore off the ground in one swift motion.

She let out a small gasp, her fingers instinctively clutching my shirt.

"I… I can walk," she muttered.

"Pretty obvious," I replied dryly, keeping my eyes forward, determined not to acknowledge the way she felt in my arms.

Lillard and Greg stood nearby, their expressions unreadable as they watched me carry her to my car. Neither of them spoke.

I set Moore down in the passenger seat and shut the door. By the time I reached the other side, Lillard had already opened the door for me. I slid in beside her, her silence almost louder than her protests from earlier.

Lillard adjusted the mirror before asking, "Shall I drive to Mrs. Giordano’s hotel first?"

Moore stiffened beside me.

Her wide eyes flicked to me, and I knew what she was thinking. You hated me too much to even let me stay anywhere near you, didn’t you?

I didn’t spare her a glance.

"No," I said curtly. "Drive to the estate."

Lillard hesitated only for a second before nodding. "Yes, sir."