Chapter 16 Chapter 16

Chapter 16 Chapter 16
Valentina

I had made a decision. A firm, necessary, self-preserving decision.

I was going to keep Lucien at arm's length. Far, far away from me and everything he made me feel. Whether my heart liked it or not. Whether my body betrayed me or not. Whether the memory of being pinned against my desk with his breath on my lips still haunted me or not.

No. Enough.

I couldn't keep tormenting myself by wanting someone who was forbidden to me in every possible way. Someone I shouldn't crave. Someone who made me feel too much, too fast, too dangerously.

I needed to drag myself out of whatever fantasy my heart was trying to shove me into before it swallowed me whole.

Which was why I'd been avoiding him.
Completely. Ruthlessly.

No talking. No meeting his eyes. Anything to keep my chest calm and my pulse steady.

And now, with my bag packed to go home, I repeated the lines I'd rehearsed:

Calm. Neutral. Unaffected.

I exhaled slowly, smoothing down my blouse. My composure needed to be perfect.

I had just submitted the client report to Ambrose who actually looked pleased for once and offered him a polite smile before heading out.

Outside, his car was parked in the same spot he always used whenever he was taking me home.

I walked straight to the car, opened the door, and slipped inside without hesitation. The familiar scent hit me immediately dark, clean, unmistakably him but I kept my expression blank, my gaze fixed ahead.

Seatbelt. Click. Done.

I sat perfectly still, hands folded, posture straight, pretending the air around me wasn't thick enough to choke on. Pretending my heart didn't kick against my ribs at the thought of him seated next to me.

He didn't say a single word. Didn't even look at me and drove off. By the time the car stopped in front of the house, I was furious. Stupidly, irrationally furious.

Fine. Perfect. That's exactly what I wanted anyway, right? To put that line between us. 

Inside, the living room wasn't empty . The twins were there. One sprawled across the armrest of the couch, the other flipping through channels. They didn't look at me and I didn't bother to look at them. We had an unspoken agreement: we existed in the same space, but that was it.

I climbed the stairs and entered my room, tossing my things on the bed. 

So he actually ignored me. That's exactly how I wanted it. So why did it feel like someone had dipped a hand into my chest and twisted?

I let out a breath, tied my hair up into a bun, and headed to the bathroom to take a shower. 

When I changed into my sleeping wears, I was suddenly craving something anything. Maybe I'd slice an apple. Maybe shower wasn't enough to calm this stupid restlessness crawling under my skin.

It was ridiculous, really. I never came down for anything specific, but somehow I always found myself here. Maybe it was the quiet. Maybe it was the routine. Maybe it was the fact that every time I assumed everyone was asleep... Lucien somehow wasn't.

If I found him in the kitchen, I'd return the energy too.

When I stepped into the kitchen, It wasn't Lucien. It was one of the twins the taller one. I think that was how I recognised one different from another because of their height. He was eating something directly from a bowl, seated on a stool. He didn't acknowledge me at first, and I didn't say a word either.

I went straight to the fridge. Just as I pulled the door open, I heard his voice. 

"Hey."

For a second, I thought I imagined it.
But then he looked directly at me.

He was talking to me?

"Hi," I muttered back, awkward and unsure. This was new.

He slid the bowl aside and crossed his arms. "Figured I haven't introduced myself properly."

I turned slightly, watching him.

"I'm Ronan," he said. "And my twin is Remy."

Then he added casually, "Lucien's our stepbrother."

Okay... and why exactly was he telling me all this?

I nodded stiffly and turned back to the refrigerator. I grabbed an apple, shut the fridge, and walked to the drawer to pull out a small knife.

Ronan's eyes followed every one of my movements. I ignored him, placed the apple on the counter, and began slicing.

The crunch of the knife against the fruit filled the silence... until his voice cut through it.

"You know," he said lazily, "I don't really mind our father getting a wife. It's his life. His decisions. We got used to it a long time ago. I just didn't expect him to go for someone younger this time."

My jaw tightened, but I didn't give him the satisfaction of reacting. He was fishing maybe for a reaction, maybe for entertainment. Either way, no.

"And who knows," he continued with a shrug, "maybe he'll get another. Or maybe you'll be the one to give him a child. He likes heirs."

I almost laughed. A child? With Ambrose?

Marriage was already insane. Giving him a child? Absolutely not. There was no universe where that would ever happen.

But I didn't say a word. I just kept slicing my apple, biting back the urge to roll my eyes so hard they'd fall out.

"Anyway," he said, kicking the stool lightly, "Lucien can be a pain in the ass, but he's a nice one."

That... got a reaction.

It wasn't loud. Just the slight pause of my knife right before it cut through another slice.

Nice? Lucien?

The same man who ignored me with military precision in the car? The same man who nearly kissed me then acted like I didn't exist?

"Nice," I repeated under my breath, then scoffed quietly.

Ronan raised a brow. "What? You disagree?"

I set the knife down a little too sharply and looked at him.

"You can't tell me Lucien... does this whole arrogant attitude thing to all the women your father marries," I said, irritation slipping through my voice all of a sudden: 

"Actually? Yeah. He does."

I stared.

"He doesn't like attachments. Doesn't like complications. And he definitely doesn't like getting involved with Ambrose's wives. It's like his rule."

A cold heaviness settled in my chest.

So that was it? It wasn't personal? Just a rule?

"Plus, he thinks most of them come for money or power. So he keeps his distance. He's not disrespectful just... distant."

My irritation turned sharp.

Distant? Cold? Avoidant?

That was more than just a 'rule.' That was exactly what he did to me today.

I forced a smile. "Right. Good to know."

"You don't believe me? I actually have a feeling you two will get along."

Get along? My brain betrayed me immediately, flashing to the stupid, reckless moment in the office. The way Lucien's breath brushed mine, the way his hand had slipped to my waist. 

Heat shot up my neck. I tore my gaze away from Ronan fast, snatched a slice of apple, and stuffed it into my mouth.

"I doubt that. He already made it very clear how he see me. And I didn't expect any of you to see me as part of the family anyway."

I didn't mean for it to come out that raw. That exposed.

Ronan opened his mouth, probably to disagree, maybe even to reassure me but then a voice cut into the room like a blade.

"What are you gossiping about me for?"

Lucien stepped into the kitchen, his presence swallowing the space whole. He didn't spare me a glance. His eyes were pinned to Ronan.

Ronan pressed his lips into a thin line. "Wasn't gossiping," he said coolly. "Just getting to know our new stepmother."

Only then did Lucien's gaze shift to me.

Slow. Controlled. Like he was choosing to look. Like he hated that he was choosing to look.

His eyes held mine for a single beat, dark and unreadable, and my entire chest tightened. Because even without touching me...he made me feel cornered.

"Our stepmother," he echoed, like the word scraped something inside him. "Don't open your mouth anyhow."

Ronan scoffed lightly. "Chill, bro. She asked a question. I answered."

Something flickered in Lucien's eyes annoyance, maybe something darker but Ronan just pushed off the counter, unfazed and placed a hand on his brother's chest. I suddenly understood something quietly: they got along. Really well. Ronan just didn't fear him the way everyone else seemed to.

"I'm out of here," Ronan said as he brushed past Lucien. And then, with a teasing smile thrown my way, "Goodnight, stepmother."

I forced a tiny smile back, because what else was I supposed to do? And then he disappeared, leaving the world to shrink into just me and Lucien.

So I did the only thing I could. The thing I'd planned the moment I walked into this kitchen.

I ignored him. It lasted all of five seconds.

"What did you and Ronan talk about?" he asked.

I didn't look at him. It took everything in me not to snap my head in disbelief. Seriously? He ignored me and now he wanted a report?

I didn't answer him. Instead I picked up my plate intending to walk right out when his legs slide in front blocking my path. 

"I asked you a question."

"Move," I muttered without looking up at him. 

He didn't. Instead, he reached back, shut the kitchen door, and turned the lock with a click that sent irritation slicing right through me.

I spun to face him. "What do you want?"

His eyes dropped to my mouth for half a second before lifting back to my face. 
"Why are you acting so... prideful?" His voice cut through the quiet of the kitchen.

"Prideful?" I laughed bitterly heat rising in my cheeks. "Who was the one ignoring me all through the day, thinking—" My words faltered, dying on my lips as his hand shot out faster than I could react.

Before I could step back, he had me off my feet. My breath caught as he hauled me up onto the counter, the plate I'd been holding clattering beside me but thankfully not breaking. The kitchen suddenly felt impossibly small, our bodies pressing close, his presence leaving no room to think.

"Do you have any idea," he said, his voice dropping lower, rough and dark, "how much I've been holding myself back? How hard I've been trying to stay away from you?"

My heart pounded like a drum in my chest. "Do you know how much I kept telling myself she's off limit yet I couldn't stay away. Do you?"

Every instinct screamed at me. I know I want him, I need him. My breaths came in short, shallow gasps as I felt the heat radiating from him, as every inch of me longed for him to close the gap.

And then, almost without thinking, my lips parted. I couldn't hold back anymore.

"Kiss me..." the words escaped out of me. His eyes darkened, a dangerous smirk playing on his lips. His voice dropped even lower, almost a growl.

"If I do... you'll be mine."

"I don't care," I whispered back, desperate to feel his lips on mine. Desperate to quench my desire and fantasies. "Just... fucking... kiss me."

The warning and restraint in his eyes vanished in an instant. His hands steadied me on the counter, and then he leaned in, crashing his lips onto mine. Everything inside me shattered logic, rules, everything that had held me back because in that moment, nothing existed except the heat, the want, the undeniable pull between us. 

And fuck if this doesn't feel sinful yet so good.