Chapter 39

Chapter 39
Celeste came forward. Something had shifted in her demeanor—an undercurrent of sadness, laced with resignation. Her eyes searched mine with quiet urgency, her voice a soft tremor. “Is it easier?”

I froze.

Of course I knew what she meant. Was it easier being Lucien's  captive? Easier to surrender than to keep resisting? Easier to accept this twisted version of life as normal? My lips pressed into a hard line.

“No,” I whispered. “It’ll never be easy.”

She exhaled heavily, the sound almost mournful. Then, with a glance toward the hallway, as if afraid of being overheard, she asked, “Has he taken you fully yet?”

Her question struck like a slap. My pulse kicked, heat rising to my cheeks—not from shame, but from disbelief. Was that jealousy flickering in her eyes? Jealousy—for what? For being stripped of agency and used?

I took a step back. “Why are you asking me this?”

Her eyes dropped. “Because I need to know. Tonight… the business meeting. I need to know how prepared you are.”

Relief surged, though it was fleeting. A dinner party. Maybe I’d be serving drinks or clearing plates—not much worse than what I’d already endured.

For a wild second, my heart leapt at the thought: maybe I could tell someone. A guest. Someone with influence. Someone who could help me escape. But just as fast, reality smothered hope. The men Lucien invited were likely cut from the same cloth—dangerous, corrupt, untouchable.

Celeste  must’ve seen something in my expression. Her mouth tightened as she said, “You don’t need to help with dinner tonight. We’ve got it handled. You need to head upstairs and get ready. The guests will arrive in an hour.”

My gaze darted toward the horizon glowing in the window. How had it gotten so late?

As she gently nudged me toward the stairs, her voice came again, hesitant. “Can I ask another question?”

I paused mid-step. “Okay.”

“Don’t you find him attractive?”

I stopped cold.

“What?” My voice was sharp. “Attraction has nothing to do with this, celeste. It’s about what he’s done. What he continues to do.”

She didn’t flinch. “You say that, but lucien treats you better than any of my former owners ever treated me.”

I stared at her, shocked.

“You’re lucky,” she added. “You don’t even know.”

Lucky. The word turned to ash in my mouth.

“Just think of his… requests… like rent. Or protection fees. You give him what he wants, and he keeps you safe.”

My fists clenched at my sides.

She went on, her voice lower. “lucien won’t ever seriously hurt you. Not like the others.” A shiver ran through her, and for the first time, I saw cracks in her calm—a glimpse of horror lived through and buried deep.

“Give him what he needs,” she whispered, “and you might be able to test the boundaries of your cage.”

My anger softened slightly. Not because I agreed with her, but because I finally saw her chains.

I lowered my voice. “What men, celeste? How did you come to be here? Were you stolen like me?”

Her hands twisted together. “The day I was sold to Lucien… was the best day of my life.”

The door opened before I could press her further. Lucien stood in the threshold, twilight framing his silhouette like a dark halo. His hair looked freshly cut—short, neat, smooth like brushed silver. A turquoise shirt peeked beneath a tailored grey suit, the color enhancing the predator gleam in his eyes.

Our gazes collided.

For the briefest moment, I saw something startling—loneliness. Not a cold absence, but a hollow ache. Then it vanished behind his usual impenetrable mask.

My wrist tingled, as if it remembered his grip. His gaze flicked there, and just like that, the illusion of vulnerability was gone. His voice sliced through the room.

“celeste, I thought I told you to get her ready.”

She bowed slightly. “Oui, maître.”

“Make sure she’s wearing the gown. And if she ruins it—” he paused, eyes sharp “—the punishment will be much worse.”

The words curled through the air, poisonous silk. I turned and ran up the stairs.

Inside my room, I yanked open the wardrobe.

One item.

One.

I gasped, grabbing the gold filigree dress. If it could even be called a dress. It shimmered in the light like spun coin, clinging to itself in transparent lace and suggestive drapes. The chest and groin were somewhat shielded by thicker patterns, but the rest? It offered no modesty.

I was still gaping when the door slammed open.

The guard.

Green eyes, broad chest, thick arms. He stepped inside, exuding a threat.

“The master sent me to make sure you dress… appropriately.” His stare was a rake across my skin. “Strip. Or I’ll help.”

I flinched. “I need privacy.”

“No privacy.”

My lungs ached from holding breath. He couldn’t be serious. Lucien wouldn’t allow him to touch me—would he?

I stayed rooted to the spot, glaring.

He smirked. “You really want to test his rules?”

I slowly peeled the jumper off my head, then my jeans. I stood in my underwear, vulnerable and raw.

He took a step forward. “Take off the rest.”

I backed away, heart slamming. “I won’t.”

“You will. The maître said no underwear under the gown. Strip.”

I bit my lip so hard it bled. My hands trembled, unclasping my bra. I tossed it. My panties I kicked aside like they were poison.

The guard chuckled. “No need to be so shy. Don’t worry—I won’t sniff ‘em. Can’t say the same for the maître.”

Disgust churned in my gut.

I grabbed the dress and pulled it over my head, ignoring his lingering gaze. The fabric slithered down my body like a snake. It clung to every curve, every secret part of me.

By the time I’d straightened it, I felt more naked than clothed.

The hem pooled around my feet like a golden trap. I looked like a cursed mermaid—something meant for water, not cages.

The guard seized my arm and dragged me down the hall.

Each step sent shivers down my spine. The lace dug into my skin. My stomach twisted.

Downstairs, laughter floated through the air. The scent of rich food and cigars curled from the dining room.

But I was the main course.

And I had no idea who would feast.

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