Chapter 53 Chapter 53
Valentina
If there is one thing I would say about Lucien, it is he knows how to treat a woman well.
There is no doubt about that. He is intentional. He doesn't hide what he wants. He doesn't pretend indifference when he feels something. And maybe that is what pulled me toward him in the first place.
Even when we decided to take a step back because of the suspicions, we both knew it was temporary.
We were terrible at distance. And what unsettled me the most? I wasn't even afraid anymore.
We were in my office earlier, doors closed but not locked, kissing like we had nothing to lose.
And I didn't feel guilty. Not even a little. I was married to his father. And yet, I was sleeping with him.
It sounded wrong when I said it in my head. Twisted. Immoral.
But my heart did not flinch. That should have terrified me. Instead... it didn't.
By the time work ended, I slipped my laptop into my bag and stood up. Leah was already gathering the remaining documents.
"Good night, ma," she said politely. "Have a good rest."
"You too, Leah."
She peeled off toward the parking lot while I stayed behind, waiting for the driver.
I checked my phone absentmindedly. A car pulled up in front of me.
The tinted window rolled down. Lucien. He honked lightly once, a smug look already on his face.
I walked closer, crossing my arms. "I don't understand. Why are you here?"
"The driver had some errands to run," he said smoothly. "So I was assigned to take you home."
I lifted a brow, a slow smile forming.
"Assigned?"
"Yes."
I opened the passenger door and slid in, setting my on my lap. The leather smelled of his cologne.
"Are you sure the driver had errands," I asked, turning toward him, "or are you the one who changed him because you wanted to spend time with me?"
He raised both hands in surrender before gripping the steering wheel again.
"Okay," he admitted. "You got me. I told him not to come. I wanted to take you home."
My heart did a small, traitorous flip. I leaned back against the seat. "What if I don't want to go home?"
His gaze flickered toward me. Slowly. Deliberately.
"You're asking for something dangerous, Val."
The nickname sent a warm rush through me.
Val. Only my sisters called me that. But when it came from him... it sounded softer. Intimate. Like something only he was allowed to say.
I looked out the windshield to hide the smile threatening my lips.
"Even if I don't want to go home," I said lightly, "I still have to. Ambrose will be home. We have to be careful."
He exhaled through his nose, amused.
"We have to be," he repeated. "And we don't have to be. You sleep in separate rooms."
I gasped and lightly hit his arm. "You're such a bad boy."
He laughed quietly, the sound low and warm.
"And you," he said, glancing at me again, "are enjoying this far too much."
By the time we arrived at the house, we were composed again. Professional.
Lucien parked first and stepped out before I did. The guards straightened immediately at the sight of him. I adjusted my bag on my shoulder and walked in ahead of him, careful, measured just as Ambrose's wife should be.
But the moment I stepped into the living room, my breath caught.
Ronan was sitting on the couch. Bruised. His lip was split. There was a cut near his brow, already swelling. His knuckles were scraped, and he winced as Mira gently dabbed ointment on his cheek.
I froze.
"What happened?" I asked before I could stop myself.
Lucien came in right behind me. The moment he saw Ronan, his entire body stiffened.
"What is going on?"
Mira looked up. "He got into a fight."
Lucien's eyes darkened. "With who?"
Ronan shifted slightly, clearly uncomfortable. Mira hesitated, then answered.
"The Donelli brothers."
The temperature in the room dropped. Lucien's jaw tightened instantly. "What the hell?"
He took a step forward, fury flickering in his eyes real fury. He turned toward the door like he was about to walk right back out.
Ronan shot up too quickly from the couch. "No, brother, please. It's not that bad."
Brother. It was the first time I truly saw it not just heard it. Not the polite, distant relationship I had assumed. But something protective. Instinctive.
Lucien's anger wasn't loud. It was controlled. And that somehow made it more terrifying.
"What did they do?" he demanded.
"It's handled," Ronan insisted. "Please."
Remy rushed in at that moment, clearly having just heard. His eyes flicked over Ronan's injuries.
"Lucien," Remy said carefully, "don't."
Lucien turned sharply toward them.
"Shut the fuck up," he snapped at Remy. His voice wasn't raised but it was lethal. "I'll take care of it."
"Brother—"
"No one is stopping me."
The finality in his tone silenced the room.
He turned and walked out. I wanted to follow him. God, I wanted to grab his arm and tell him to think. But I couldn't.
Not in front of everyone. Not when Mira was watching. Not when Ambrose's staff were within earshot.
So I stayed where I was, nails digging lightly into my palm. Ronan sank back onto the couch, regret flashing across his face.
"I didn't want him involved," he muttered. "The Donelli brothers are reckless. They don't care who they go after."
That made my stomach tighten. Mira pressed a cloth gently to his lip. "You know Lucien," she said softly. "Even if you hadn't told him, he would've found out."
Remy crossed his arms, jaw tight but calmer than Lucien had been. "He can handle them."
I looked toward the door Lucien had just walked through.
I had seen him cold. I had seen him amused. I had seen him jealous. But I had never seen that. That raw, protective rage.
And something inside me twisted.
Because it wasn't just anger.
It was love. The kind that didn't hesitate. The kind that burned first and thought later. And for the first time, I realized something unsettling. If anyone ever hurt me like that, Lucien would not hesitate either.
I finished my shower and slid into my pajamas, soft cotton against my skin. The world went, almost unreal after everything that had happened tonight.
Ambrose had returned not long after. I'd watched as Ronan and Remy filled him in, careful to soften the details, but his reaction... or lack of it... had been chilling.
"Let Lucian handle it." he had said.
Nothing more. Like he already knew. Like he expected it. I couldn't stop the worry from creeping up my spine. Even wrapped in the comfort of my pajamas, my fingers itched to reach for my phone.
Is everything okay? I typed, then paused. My thumb hovered over send, then pressed it.
The message didn't go through. I frowned, staring at the screen as my chest tightened.
Hours passed. The house sank into silence. The only sounds were the occasional creak of the floorboards and the hum of the air conditioning.
I tried to focus on work, on reading some files I had left on the table, but my mind kept drifting back to him. Lucian.
Maybe he was home. Maybe he wasn't. My heart thumped in my chest.
I slid off my bed, feet silent against the carpet. I padded down the hallway, careful to make as little noise as possible.
I reached his door. My hand hovered over the knob. I hesitated.
What if he's not okay? I knocked softly, barely making a sound.
No response. I waited. The silence stretched. I knocked again, slightly louder this time.
Still nothing. My hand trembled slightly as I turned the knob.
The door clicked open. I pushed it slowly.
The room was empty.
“Lucian?” I whispered into the darkness.
No answer. My chest tightened further. Panic fluttered behind my ribs.
Where was he? Was he... really okay?