Chapter 7 Boy
\-Lucien-
There was nothing stopping me.
Nothing stopping me from ripping off that flimsy lace and devouring what was underneath that damn dress.
Oh, Celeste. How could you be so naïve? Sheep don't go to wolves for help. If we were going to do this, it was only a matter of time before she realized what I truly was.
For now, I just had to get to the company in one piece.
Already, the news of me and Celeste was plastered across blogs and social media platforms. And Jackson wouldn't stop blowing up my phone.
I made my way into Echelon Properties, a company built on stone and glass, dedicated to meeting the needs of our clients-or at least that was the line printed on every brochure.
I strolled into my fake office, ignoring the curious glances of employees-colleagues, as far as they knew. A polished nameplate gleamed on the door:
Lucien Blackwell, Head of Acquisitions.
The lie was good enough to fool the public. Good enough to keep my identity buried until I was ready to claim my place.
"Where the hell have you been?" Jackson burst in, his voice sharp with irritation. To the world, he was the CEO, the face of the empire. In truth, he was my stand-in, my mouthpiece. My secretary.
"An engagement, Lucien? Really?" He flung his phone onto my desk. Notifications stacked up in endless streams of alerts. "Every news outlet in the city has been calling nonstop. What exactly is going on?"
"Well, you heard it right, Jackson. I'm allegedly engaged to the Ashford Heiress." I smirked.
"Isn't she your nephew's fiancée?"
"Well, last night she dumped him for me."
"And you agreed? What happened to keeping a low profile? I'm out here taking the heat as CEO while you play husband?" Jackson dragged a hand through his hair, exasperated.
I leaned back in my chair, a grin tugging at my mouth. "Look on the bright side. You're being paid handsomely for the performance."
Jackson and I went back years. After I walked out of that godforsaken mansion, he was the one who gave me a roof and called me brother when no one else would. He carried me through nights I wouldn't have survived alone. This arrangement, him in the spotlight and me in the shadows, was the only way I knew to repay him.
"That reminds me, your father called. Wants to see you in his home office. Also, he asked me to fire you-not me, technically. The email was addressed to the CEO."
I scoffed. "So, the CEO firing the CEO. Makes perfect sense. What about the Manhattan Project architects? Still meeting this morning?"
"Uh, no. With all the heat, I thought it best to reschedule. Honestly, I wasn't even sure you'd show up-you weren't answering your phone."
"Right. My mistake." I shuffled through the files on my desk, pushing the irritation aside. "Business first. Did you lock down Blair Faulkner?"
"Not yet. The meeting's set for noon." He glanced at his wristwatch.
"Fine. Clear my schedule until then. I need to pay that old bat a visit."
Jackson frowned. "He's still your father, you know."
"None of my business." With that, I got up, and out of the office.
I hated this damn place. I reminded myself as I pulled up in front of the Blackwell House. Every brick, every window only dragged out terrible memories.I made my way upstairs to his study. As a boy, I only stepped in here for reckoning, when I had fallen short of his cruel expectations. Today was just one of those days.
When I entered, the stench of stale tobacco hit my nose. Father's chest puffed, smoke curling from the pipe clamped between his teeth. He had his sharp gaze fixed on the door like he had anticipated my arrival.
"You wanted to see me?"
His eyes narrowed, voice dropping to a low growl. "You think you're so important, huh? Sending my calls to voicemail and making me call your office."
"You asked to see me?" I repeated. Reminding myself to remain composed.
He paused, puffing the smoke into the air as his eyes never left mine.
"I received a call from Patricia Ashford this morning, telling me how you broke into her home and kidnapped her granddaughter. Yesterday's theatrics weren't enough for you?"
"I don't need to explain myself to you, Father-"
"What did I say about calling me that name?!" he snapped. "The rules haven't changed just because you're all grown, boy. Now take those hands out of your empty pockets and show some respect!" He snarled like a rabid dog.
My jaw clenched, my heart pulsating with fury. Slowly, I pulled my hands free. I hated this man-hated him so much I wanted to ram that pipe down his throat and watch him choke on his own smoke.
"Now," he said, voice cutting, "you're going to send her back home and put an end to this nonsense."
"I'm afraid I can't do that, sir."
"It's not a request, boy. It's a command."
The word boy made my blood boil.
"You will do as I say."
My eyes burned with defiance. "I won't."
He jabbed a finger at me, his face reddening. "I know why you're so proud. You think you've made something of yourself. But what you don't realize is that I have this city in my palms like my balls. I could break you, Lucien. Strip you bare. I'll take that job you love so much. Burn your car, your apartment, everything, right in front of you. Then we'll see where all that pride gets you."
"Do your worst, you old bastard," I snapped, turning away.
He chuckled darkly. "You're just like your mother. Stubborn. Useless. I gave you meaning, and I can take it back."
I froze, then turned, fury clawing up my throat. "Oh? Like you "gave" my mother meaning? After you used her and threw her away?"
His eyes gleamed cruelly. "She left you, boy-"
"No, she didn't. She would never leave me." I closed the distance to his desk, fists trembling.
"But she did." His lips curled into a sneer. "Dropped you right on my porch like a box of cookies."
The words hit harder than any blow. My body moved on instinct-I lunged across the desk, grabbed him by the collar, hauled him inches from my face. My fist was already cocked back when Jackson's voice echoed in my head, pulling me back from the edge.
He was still my father. Breathing hard, I let him go.
His laugh followed me as I stormed out of his office, out of the house and to the porch where all the bad memories flooded in.
FLASHBACK:
The first time I ever saw this mansion, it was bigger than anything my eyes had ever imagined. My mother squeezed my hand, her smile firm even though her voice trembled.
"Remember what we rehearsed," she whispered as the gate opened for me, not her. "Go on. Drop the packages at the door. I'll be right here waiting."
I kept looking back at her, nervous. She stood just outside the gate, smiling, waving me forward. I should have seen the pain hiding in her eyes. But I was only six.
It was this old bastard who answered the door that day.
"My name is Lucien Blackwell," I said carefully, the way she taught me. "My mom asked me to deliver this box of cookies."
The man smiled in a way that made my skin crawl."You're in the right place, boy." He gestured for me to enter.
I turned, the box still clutched in my tiny hands, but she was gone.
And I never saw her again.