Chapter 33 Jealous King
A month had slipped by like silk through fingers quiet, gentle, almost healing.
The villa had found its rhythm again sun-soaked mornings where Elena padded barefoot across cool marble floors, hair still messy from sleep, stealing kisses from Lucas while he pretended to read emails.
Quiet evenings on the terrace with candles flickering against the night, red wine staining their lips, his hand always finding her thigh beneath the table like it belonged there.
Late-night whispers on the balcony wrapped in thick blankets, her head on his shoulder while the sea sang its endless lullaby against the cliffs below.
Elena’s fractures had faded into faint silver lines delicate scars that Lucas kissed every single day like he was apologizing to them.
Her ankle no longer protested every step her arm moved freely, reaching for him without hesitation.
She laughed more easily now bright, unguarded, the kind of sound that made the whole house feel alive.
She teased him mercilessly about his overprotectiveness, stole his shirts to sleep in, filled every room with small, stubborn pieces of normal life fresh-cut roses on the dining table, playlists drifting through the halls, her favorite vanilla candles burning low while they talked about nothing and everything until the stars disappeared.
Everything was back to normal.
Almost.
Because Lucas had changed.
He still loved her more than breath fiercely, obsessively, with the kind of devotion that bordered on worship.
He kissed her like every touch might be stolen from them tomorrow.
Held her like she was the only thing keeping gravity from failing.
Watched her sleep some nights with eyes that traced every rise and fall of her chest, counting breaths like a prayer, as though the moment he looked away she might vanish like smoke.
But the lightness that used to live in his gaze was rarer now.
His smiles came slower, never quite reaching the storm-gray of his eyes.
His phone was never more than a heartbeat away constant updates from Viktor, security reports flashing across the screen, new leads on the faceless threat that had sent the bloodied gown.
The villa’s security had tripled: drones humming overhead like watchful insects, men stationed on every perimeter, trackers stitched into the lining of Elena’s favorite coats, hidden in the soles of her shoes, woven into her jewelry.
He never left her alone for long.
Even when she teased him about it, calling him her “overprotective caveman,” his answering smile was tight, shadowed, haunted by the memory of her broken body in his arms.
The threat was no longer just a ghost.
It was a living, breathing thing patient, intelligent, always one step ahead.
Tommaso and Natasha were gone, silenced in the dungeon, but someone else had stepped into the darkness they left behind.
Someone who knew secrets about Elena’s past.
Someone who knew exactly how to twist the knife of old wounds into new ones.
Someone who had whispered through dead men’s lips “He’ll find her… and kill her.”
Someone who couldn’t stand to see Elena happy who hated the sound of her laughter, the light in her eyes, the way she walked through the world like she finally belonged in it.
Lucas woke before dawn every morning now.
He sat on the balcony with coffee gone cold in his hand, watching the horizon bleed from black to pink, then gold, then endless blue, waiting for the exact moment the first ray of light touched Elena’s sleeping face.
Only then did he allow himself to breathe shallow, careful, like the air itself might betray him.
One morning, as the first rays slipped across the bed and gilded her lashes, Elena stirred.
She opened her eyes to find Lucas already awake, sitting up against the headboard, gaze fixed on her like she was the sunrise itself.
“You’re staring again,” she whispered, voice thick with sleep, a small, sleepy smile tugging at her lips.
“Can’t help it,” he murmured, reaching out to trace the curve of her cheek with his thumb, touch so gentle it almost hurt.
“You’re the only thing that makes the world feel safe.”
Her smile faltered.
She saw it the tightness in his jaw, the faint shadows carved beneath his eyes, the way his hand shook just slightly when he touched her.
She pushed herself up, ignoring the faint protest in her ankle, and crawled into his lap, arms wrapping around his neck until there was no space left between them.
“Lucas…” she said softly, pressing her forehead to his, noses brushing.
“You love me more than anything. I feel it every second. But you’re scared. More scared than before.”
He closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, the sound raw in the quiet room.
“I almost lost you,” he whispered, voice cracking open.
“And now there’s someone out there who knows things they shouldn’t. Who wants to hurt you. Who might already be planning the next move.”
Elena cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.really look.
“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, voice steady despite the tears pricking her eyes.
“I’m here. I’m healing. And I’m not afraid.”
Lucas’s throat worked hard.
“I am,” he confessed, the words barely audible, stripped of every layer of armor he’d ever worn.
“I’m terrified of a world without you in it.”
She kissed him then slow, deep, pouring every ounce of love she felt into it, tasting salt and fear and forever.
When she pulled back, her eyes were fierce, shining.
“Then we face it together. No more hiding. No more carrying it alone.”
He nodded once, arms tightening around her like he could fuse their bodies, their souls, their futures.
“Together,” he echoed, voice rough with everything he couldn’t say.
.
His arms tightened around her for one last moment, as though he could keep time from moving forward.
“I need to go to work, baby,” he murmured, voice low and reluctant, lips brushing her temple.
Elena tilted her head back, sleepy smile curving her lips.
“Okay,” she whispered, stretching carefully against him.
“I’ll take bodyguards. You know Viktor bought me ice cream and cupcakes yesterday… and also for Sriya.”
The words landed like a match in dry grass.
Lucas froze.
His entire body tensed shoulders locking, jaw clenching so hard the muscle jumped beneath the skin.
Jealousy hot, irrational, possessive roared through his chest like a living thing.
Viktor.
Buying her ice cream.
Making her smile.
Being there when he wasn’t.
Elena felt the shift instantly.
She looked up at him, eyes sparkling with mischief.
“Are you jealous, Mr. Lucas Romeo?” she teased, voice light and playful, poking his chest.
Lucas’s eyes narrowed to slits.
He leaned down without warning, teeth sinking into the soft swell of her breast not hard, just sharp enough to make her gasp, just enough to leave a faint, possessive mark.
“No,” he growled against her skin, the word vibrating through her.
Elena laughed breathless, delighted.
“Are you a dog who bites like this?”
He lifted his head, eyes blazing.
“But last night you didn’t complain,” he rasped, voice low and filthy, reminding her of the way she’d moaned his name, begged for more, clawed his back while he fucked her into oblivion.
“You dirty man,” she scolded, cheeks flushing pink, but her smile was wide, utterly in love with his possessiveness.
Lucas smirked, but the jealousy still simmered beneath it.
“Don’t you have work now?” she asked, tilting her head.
“I’m changing your bodyguards,” he said immediately, voice flat, final, like the decision was already made.
Elena’s eyes widened in mock outrage.
“Oye, Mr. Jealous dare you. Viktor is like a brother to me. And I think Sriya likes him.”
She leaned in, pressing soft, teasing kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t, Mr. Husband.”
Lucas exhaled sharply through his nose, arms tightening around her waist like he could keep her from ever leaving his sight again.
He buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent like it could calm the storm inside him.
“I just want you safe,” he muttered, voice muffled against her skin.
“Always.”
Elena cupped his face, forcing him to look at her.
“I’m safe with you,” she whispered, eyes shining.
“And I’m safe with Viktor. Trust me.”
He stared at her for a long, burning moment the war in his eyes slowly easing.
Finally, he nodded once, reluctant, but real.
“Okay.”
She kissed him then slow, deep, tasting coffee and love and the faint trace of jealousy still lingering on his tongue.
When she pulled back, her smile was wicked.
“Now go to work, mafia king. Your empire is waiting.”
Lucas groaned, stealing one last kiss before standing.
He dressed quickly black suit, crisp white shirt, tie knotted with practiced ease.
But before he left, he leaned down, pressed his forehead to hers.
“Be good,” he said softly.
“And tell Viktor to keep his ice cream to himself.”
Elena laughed bright, free, the sound filling the room like sunlight.
“I love you, idiot.”
“I love you more,” he whispered.
Then he was gone, the door closing softly behind him.
Elena lay back against the pillows, smiling to herself, heart full.
To be continued..