Chapter 34 Chapter 34

Chapter 34 Chapter 34
Valentina

I lay curled against Lucien's chest, my head tucked just beneath his chin, his arm wrapped around me.

Our bodies were still warm, limbs tangled, breaths finally even. His fingers moved lazily along my arm, slow strokes that felt more intimate than anything else we'd done tonight.

This was the part that always undid me. The calm.

Around him, my mind went strangely quiet. No titles or expectations or the weight of who I was supposed to be. When I was with Lucien, my life narrowed down to the space between us. To this bed. To the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath my cheek.

I forgot everything else. And that scared me more than it should have.

I shifted slightly, my fingers tracing idle patterns against his skin. "Do you ever notice," I said softly, "how everything just... fades when we're like this?"

His chest rose with a slow breath. "Yeah," he replied after a moment. "I do."

I tilted my head up, resting my chin on him so I could see his face. He was staring at the ceiling, expression relaxed.

"I forget who I'm supposed to be," I admitted. "What I'm supposed to care about. It's like my whole world pauses when I'm with you."

His arm tightened around me slightly.

"That's not a bad thing," he said.

I studied him for a second before asking, "What about you?"

He turned his head then, meeting my gaze. "What about me?"

"What do you forget," I asked quietly, "when you're with me?"

He didn't answer right away. His fingers stilled on my arm, and for a second I wondered if I'd crossed into territory he didn't want to touch.

Then he sighed.

"I forget that I'm always supposed to be in control," he said. "That I'm always planning ten steps ahead. With you, I don't think. I just... feel."

Something in my chest tightened at that. I hesitated, then asked the question that had been sitting on my tongue. "Were you always like this?" I said. "Before... everything?"

A small smile curved his lips, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "No," he answered honestly. "I used to be softer. Then I learned that softness costs you."

I reached up, brushing my thumb along his jaw. "And now?"

"Now," he said, looking at me fully, "I let it exist with you."

"There's something I've wanted to ask you," I said recalling the question that had been bugging me for a while. 

His fingers paused, then resumed their slow movement along my arm. "Ask."

"Your father," I began. "What it's like for you... with him. With his life."

Lucien didn't interrupt, so I kept going.

"You were his first child. Then came the twins. And now..." I hesitated, the word catching in my throat. "Now there's me. His wife."

I felt his chest rise beneath my cheek, steady and calm, which somehow gave me the courage to continue.

"How do you feel about all of that? About welcoming another woman into his life. About having more people added to your world like pieces on a board you didn't design."

"And about always being the one expected to carry things. To do what he asks. Even when it's clear you don't want to."

"My father has always believed the world bends because he wills it to."

I stayed quiet, letting him speak.

"He loved my mother," Lucien continued. "Or at least, I think he did. But whatever love he had for her didn't stop him from looking elsewhere. From replacing what broke instead of fixing it."

"So no, I don't lose sleep over his mistresses. Or his new wives. Or the children that follow. If the love he had for my mother could fade, then nothing he does surprises me anymore."

Something in my chest twisted.

"And you?" I asked softly. "Doing everything he asks... even when you don't agree with him?"

A humorless smile touched his lips. "I don't do it because I want to. I do it because I understand how power works. Sometimes you play the role that's expected until the moment you don't have to anymore."

I went quiet after that, my thoughts spiraling.

Because now there was me. I was part of that equation. Part of his father's choices. Part of the mess.

"Do you feel that way about me too?" I whispered. "That it doesn't matter. That you couldn't care less that I'm your father's wife."

He held my gaze. "That's the difference,"

"I don't care about titles or optics. Or who the world says you belong to." His thumb brushed along my jaw. "But I care about you. About who you are when you're with me. About what this feels like."

His voice lowered. "If I didn't care, this wouldn't exist. I wouldn't let it."

The weight of his words settled over me, heavy and undeniable. I rested my head back against his chest, my heart racing. He didn't see me as a mistake. And somehow that made me have this calm feeling inside of me.

I closed my bedroom door as quietly as I could and leaned my back against it, letting out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.

If I didn't care, this wouldn't exist. I wouldn't let it.

Lucien's words echoed in my head. I pushed myself away from the door and crossed the room, dropping my bag onto the bed before slipping out of my jacket. The fabric landed carelessly beside it. I stood there for a moment, staring at nothing, then raked my fingers through my hair in frustration.

How had this become my life?

Sneaking back into the house late at night. Slipping through hallways like a stranger in my own marriage. Going back and forth with Lucien in secrecy, in stolen hours and locked doors.

And the worst part? I didn't feel guilty about Ambrose.

There was nothing there. No attachment. No warmth. Our marriage had been nothing more than an agreement between my father and Ambrose. A transaction dressed up as destiny.

But what I felt for Lucien... I sank onto the edge of the bed, my heart thudding.

I didn't have a name for it yet. I wasn't sure I was ready to. But it wasn't nothing. It was too consuming, too present, too real.

Was it too early to admit I was falling?

I lay back and stared at the ceiling, questions piling up faster than answers.

How long would this go on? How long could we keep hiding? How long would I stay trapped in a marriage that felt hollow, while secretly being involved with the one man I wasn't supposed to want—his son?

Nothing about this was simple anymore.

⸻

Morning came too quickly. The dining room buzzed with quiet clinks of cutlery and murmured conversation. The twins were seated across from me. 

Lucien wasn't here. I wonder whether he had left for work early. Ambrose wasn't here either. 

Across the table, Mira's eyes kept drifting to me. Studying. Like she was trying to fit pieces together that didn't quite make sense yet.

I kept my expression neutral, focusing on my plate. 

She knows, a voice whispered in my head. Or at least, she suspects something. I pushed my chair back and stood, gathering my plate.

I carried the dishes into the kitchen, the familiar clatter of plates and the low hum of activity filling the space. One of the maids immediately straightened when she saw me and bowed slightly.

"Oh—please," I said softly, awkward, unused to the gesture. It still unsettled me, the way respect here came wrapped in silence and lowered eyes.

She took the plates from me anyway, murmuring something polite as she turned back to the sink.

I exhaled and turned around Mira stood inside the kitchen, arms loosely crossed. She glanced at the maid, then at the other staff nearby.

"Leave us,"

The maids stiffened, bowed again, and quickly left the kitchen altogether.

I took a step toward the exit. I had work. I didn't have the energy for whatever this was.

"Do you really think that everything you're doing will go unnoticed?"

My heart skipped. Slowly, I turned to face her.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, keeping my tone even, neutral.

Her lips curved, not quite a smile. More like satisfaction at having landed the hit. "This house," she said lightly, gesturing around us, "has eyes everywhere. Walls that listen. People who notice patterns."

I swallowed, forcing myself not to look away. "I don't know what you think you've seen," I replied, "but you're mistaken."

Was I convincing? I couldn't tell anymore.

Mira stepped closer, her gaze sharp, searching my face for cracks. "Be careful. Secrets have a way of slipping out when people start getting careless."

I let out a slow breath and straightened. "Then stop circling it," I said calmly. "If you see something, Mira, say it. There's no point running in loops."

Her brows lifted slightly.

"Go on," I continued, meeting her eyes without flinching. "What exactly do you think you're seeing? What are you suspecting?"

For a moment, she only studied me. Then a smile tugged at her lips.

"I know what you're doing," she said. "I've seen the way you look at Lucien. The way you linger. You're trying to get yourself all over him."

I almost scoffed, but I held it in. She took another step closer. "But don't forget something," she added softly. "You're married. Married to his father. Whatever little tactics you think you're using to get into his pants?"

"They won't work."

"Because Lucien is mine," she finished.

For a split second, I genuinely thought I might laugh out loud.

If only she knew. If only she had any idea how far Lucien and I had already crossed that line how blurred it had become, how impossible it was to uncross.

I tilted my head, studying her now. "You're very confident," I said evenly.

Her chin lifted. "I know what I'm talking about."

I smiled then. Amused.

"Then keep believing whatever helps you sleep at night," I replied. "Just be careful you don't mistake confidence for truth."



"Good morning, ma'am."

Leah's polite voice came through as I stepped into my office. "Good morning, Leah."

I crossed the room and took my seat behind the desk, setting my bag down before leaning back slightly and taking a deep breath.

I'd barely arrived at the company before Mr. Evans had intercepted me, polite but insistent, telling me that Mr. Ambrose needed to see me immediately. 

Ambrose hadn't wasted time. A business gathering abroad. Important partners. Three days. We'd be leaving tomorrow.

He'd said it like he was informing me of the weather.

No discussion. No question of whether I had plans. Just an expectation that I would adjust, as always. I'd nodded, of course. That was what I did. Smile. Agree. Fall in line.

But now, sitting alone in my office, irritation crept in.

I exhaled slowly and looked up. "What's my schedule for today, Leah?"

She opened her tablet immediately. "You have a board review at eleven, a call with the Zurich branch by one, and a meeting with the design team at three. There's also a charity luncheon invitation that needs your confirmation."

I nodded. "Alright."

"These need your signature, ma'am."

I flipped it open, scanned quickly, and signed where required. As I handed it back.

"Is Luc—Mr. Lucien in his office?"

Leah hesitated. "I'm not sure, ma'am. I haven't seen him since I arrived this morning."

"Alright," I said lightly. "That will be all."

She bowed, professional as ever, and left the office quietly, closing the door behind her.

The silence rushed in.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the desk, and pressed my fingers to my temples. For a moment, I just sat there, breathing, letting everything settle. Then I reached for my phone. I stared at the screen for a second before typing a text to Lucien. 

Me: Where are you?

The message sent with a soft tap, and I set the phone down beside my laptop.

My phone buzzed. I reached for it too quickly, then stilled, annoyed at myself, before picking it up anyway.

Lucien: In a meeting. 

I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding.

Me: Just checking. Let me know when you're free.

I stared at the words for a moment before locking my screen.

Free. The word felt almost ironic. Whatever was happening between Lucien and me whatever it was becoming I still had a role to play here. A title. A name attached to expectations I couldn't simply shrug off.

I haven’t finished putting things together in my head when the door opened. 

I looked up expecting to see Leah but it was Lucien. “I thought you said you were in a meeting.”

Lucien didn’t answer right away. He turned the lock, then walked toward me.

“I was. But I had this feeling… like I needed to be here. Now.”

He stopped beside my desk, close enough that I could smell him, feel the shift in the air when he leaned down slightly. His voice dropped. “What’s wrong?”

I inhaled slowly. “Your father just informed me that I’ll be going with him to Amsterdam. A business gathering. Three days.” I paused. “I don’t know why, but I just… I felt like I needed to tell you.”

His gaze searched my face. “You’re telling me because you want me to know,” he said. Then, almost teasing, “Or because you want me there?”

I let out a small, breathless laugh and shook my head. “I don’t know,” I admitted. “I just know it doesn’t feel right thinking about being there without you.”

Something unreadable flickered in his eyes before his mouth curved into a smile. “You really have nothing to worry about.”

I frowned. “What do you mean?”

He reached out, resting his hand on the edge of my desk, trapping me in place without touching me. “The trip includes me. I’ll be there too.”

“You’re serious?”

“Completely.”

“Amsterdam. Same schedule. Same hotel.”

“But different room,” I added. 

He smiled with a shrug. “It doesn’t matter,”

Oh so help me God.