Chapter 14 Chapter 14.

Chapter 14 Chapter 14.
Lucien stepped into his bedroom, the soft glow of the morning sun casting a warm light on the luxurious space. He tossed his towel onto the chaise lounge, his muscles aching slightly from the workout. A smirk played on his lips as he thought about Aria's determination and fiery spirit.

He made his way to the bathroom, turning on the shower to let the water heat up. As he stripped off his clothes, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and admiration. "What a perfection you've got here, Lucien," he admired himself.

Under the refreshing stream of water, Lucien let out a low sigh, feeling the stress and fatigue melt away. He shampooed his hair and soaped up his body, the scent of his cologne filling the air. As he rinsed off, he felt revitalized, ready to tackle the day ahead.

After toweling off, Lucien slipped into a tailored suit, the fabric hugging his athletic physique perfectly. He adjusted his cufflinks and combed his hair back, his movements precise and confident.

With a final glance in the mirror, Lucien nodded to himself, satisfied with his appearance. He headed out of the bedroom, his footsteps echoing through the silent hallway as he made his way to the garage.

Francesca was already there waiting alongside his chauffeur. 

"Good morning, sir," the chauffeur greeted while Francesca gave a knowing slight bow.

"The red Bugatti," Lucien made his choice of car. 

The chauffeur hurried away, coming back in a few minutes with the car Lucien requested. 

With majesty, Lucien slid into the car, and Francesca joined the chauffeur in the front seat.

The car weaved through the streets, and inside was a cool engagement happening between Lucien and Francesca as they talked about business.

“What’s next on the agenda for today after the warehouse?” Lucien asked, his curiosity piqued.

Francesca looked up, smoothly transitioning from her notes. “We have a meeting with the investors at 1PM, followed by a site visit to the new project location at 3PM. They're eager to see the progress, considering our timeline keeps changing.”

Lucien frowned slightly at that, not entirely surprised but annoyed nonetheless. “Did they voice any major concerns?”

“Just the usual,” she replied, her tone calm yet professional. “They’re anxious about the market shifts, but I believe once they see the renovations in person, they’ll be reassured.”

Lucien nodded, his thoughts momentarily drifting to the thrilling highs and daunting lows of the business world. It was a constant dance of momentum and caution, but he thrived in it. It was just like pushing through the last set—pain for the promise of future strength.

The car sliced through the morning haze, the low purr of the engine like a beast lurking beneath the surface. 

They turned into an industrial area of the city, the polished skyline fading behind them and giving way to rusted fences, abandoned lots, and shadows that held whispers. The streets here were quiet—too quiet. Not because people weren’t around, but because they knew better than to be seen when men like Lucien drove through.

Francesca closed her file just as the warehouse came into view.

The structure was massive, steel bones exposed, and wrapped in silence. Several black SUVs were already parked outside. Men in dark suits stood with disciplined postures, earpieces tucked into their ears, hands folded in front or tucked behind their backs. The moment Lucien’s car pulled in, the men straightened—alert, like hounds sensing their alpha’s arrival.

The car eased to a stop.

Francesca stepped out first, nodding at one of the guards who opened Lucien’s door.

Lucien emerged slowly. Unhurried. Dominant. His polished shoes hit the gravel with a distinct sound, and the moment his full frame stood, silence wrapped tighter around the space. It wasn’t just respect. It was fear.

He didn’t have to say anything. His presence alone sent a ripple of unease through the air.

“Is everyone here?” Lucien asked Francesca, not looking at her, his eyes fixed on the warehouse.

“Yes. And they’ve been waiting.”

“Good.”

He adjusted the cuffs of his suit and began walking forward. The steel doors groaned as they opened for him.

Inside, the warehouse was dimly lit, with only strips of sunlight piercing through dusty windows. At the far end, four men stood around a makeshift table. They were mid-conversation until Lucien’s steps echoed through the space.

The moment they saw him, they froze.

“Boss,” the boldest of the group—a man named Viktor, stepped forward, arms stretched in greeting. “We weren’t expecting you in person.”

“Clearly.” Lucien’s voice was calm, smooth, but laced with ice. He didn’t smile.

He stepped closer, and Viktor’s confidence faltered. Lucien scanned the room, eyes settling on the crates stacked behind them—crates that were supposed to be filled with weapons for a deal scheduled two weeks ago.

Only half of them were there.

“I asked for 200 crates,” Lucien said. He didn’t raise his voice, but the silence that followed made it feel like a shout.

“There were... issues at customs,” Viktor explained, suddenly sweating despite the cold air. “We thought we’d have time to sort it before—”

Lucien’s fist connected with Viktor’s face before the man could finish his sentence.

The crack echoed.

Viktor collapsed, groaning, clutching his jaw.

Lucien didn’t even look down at him. “Do I look like someone who cares about excuses?”

“No, sir,” one of the others stammered, stepping back instinctively.

A few men began moving in the background, checking the crates. Francesca stood nearby, silent, cool, flipping through her notes as if nothing violent had just happened.

“I built this operation on precision,” Lucien continued, circling the remaining men like a predator. “You don’t get to play games with my timelines. Not unless you’re tired of breathing.”

One of the crates was opened.

Empty.

Lucien froze.

Viktor groaned on the floor, trying to speak.

Lucien crouched beside him, grabbing his bloodied face. “You stole from me, Viktor?”

“No, no...I swear...”

“I’m not God, Viktor. I don’t have time to forgive.”

The sound of a gun being cocked filled the air.

Francesca didn’t flinch. Neither did Lucien.

The guard didn’t wait for a command. A single shot echoed, and Viktor fell silent.

Lucien stood, brushing off invisible dust from his sleeve. He turned to the rest. “You have twenty-four hours to find the missing crates. If they’re not found, I’ll assume you’re all involved. And you’ll end up where Viktor just went.”

They nodded quickly, murmuring affirmations.

Lucien turned on his heel and strode toward the door. The job was done. Message delivered. Fear reinstated.

As they stepped outside, Francesca caught up to him.

“That was brutal,” she commented.

“It was necessary,” Lucien replied.

Francesca handed him a cloth. He wiped the blood from his knuckles casually, like someone removing a smudge from his sunglasses.

“I’m done with babysitting thieves,” he said. “And when we get to the site visit this afternoon, I want every blueprint on my desk before I arrive.”

“Already done.”

He glanced at her. “That’s why you’re still breathing, Francesca.”

She gave a small smile. “My greatest honor, sir.”

Lucien slid back into the car, his face unreadable. The façade of the charming billionaire would return soon enough for the investors, to convince them into his deal. But they would only return for a short while–until the deal is struck.

Afterwards, the real Lucien would thrive again.

Not a businessman. Not a lover.

A king of the underworld.

The devil in designer.