77

Moore

A heavy warmth pressed against my side, anchoring me in place. My body stirred, still sluggish with sleep, but the unfamiliar weight around my waist sent a jolt of awareness through me.

My eyes fluttered open. The ceiling above me was different. The scent in the air was rich cedar and something distinctly masculine. Wasn’t mine. A slow, creeping dread settled in my gut.

I stirred again, shifting slightly, but the moment my vision cleared, I was met with the strikingly beautiful features of a man.

My brows furrowed in confusion. What…?

Tilting my head slightly to get a better look, my breath caught in my throat.

Lucien.

Lucien was fucking lying next to me. How on earth is that even possible?

My breath hitched. His arm was wrapped securely around my waist, holding me against him like I belonged there.

Panic shot through me like lightning. How the hell did I end up in the same bed as him?

His face, even in sleep, was carved with the kind of ruthless beauty that could make anyone forget their own name. But I wasn’t just anyone. And I sure as hell wasn’t supposed to be here.

I wanted to get up and run for my life before the devil himself woke up and decided to have my head for breakfast. But his grip only tightened, pulling me closer instead of letting me go.

I sucked in a shaky breath. I’m in trouble.

Flashes of last night came rushing back.

Lucien had lifted me off the ground like I weighed nothing. He had carried me to his car, his grip unrelenting as I’d tried, and failed to fight back. My body had been too weak, the pain unbearable. During the drive, he’d handed me pain relievers, his gaze unreadable. Not cold. Not kind. Just...watching.

I had been too weak to argue, I wouldn't have dared anyways. He made me stay at a hotel when he had a mansion!

I’d taken the pills. Exhaustion had swept over me, pulling me under before I could make sense of anything.

And that was it.

I didn’t remember eating. I didn’t remember being shown a room. I had fallen asleep in the car, and now… I was here.

With him.

Lucien stirred beside me, his grip on me tightening unconsciously.

I froze.

He murmured something under his breath. His voice was low, hoarse, almost painful.

"Ava… Ava, stay with me."

His fingers clenched around the fabric of my dress, his breathing uneven.

I swallowed hard, gripping the bed sheets as I stared at him.

He's having a nightmare.

I can see it. The way his brows furrow, the way his jaw clenches, the way his grip on me tightens like he’s trying to hold onto something slipping away.

Watching his daughter get hit by a car must have shattered him beyond repair. I wonder if he’s ever had a single night of sleep without being haunted by it.

A pang of guilt twists in my chest.

I wish I could do something, anything, to help him forget. But I can’t wake him, that would be too dangerous.

If Lucien wakes up in that state to see me glaring at his weakness… Gosh, I can't think of what my punishment would be.

Lucien in his sleep was just as terrifying as Lucien awake.

Still, he’s struggling now, his body tense, his hands clenching and unclenching as if he’s reaching for something or someone. Then, suddenly, he’s pushing, fighting against something unseen, like he’s trying to break free from a force holding him back.

The hospital, I realize. He must be reliving it. Perhaps this was the moment when nurses held him back, keeping him from his daughter.

"Ava… Ava."

His voice is raw, aching and filled with desperation.

Then, pain, sharp and immediate.

Lucien’s grip on me tightens painfully, his strength overpowering as he grabs, pushes, then grabs me again. His body is locked in a battle with ghosts only he can see.

I don’t try to pull away. I wasn’t even trying to protect myself.

If I weren’t in his arms right now, he’d be hurting himself instead.

I stared at him, really stared at him.

This is not the ruthless, untouchable man who thrives on control. This is not the cold, stoic Lucien Giordano who looks at me with loathing and contempt.

This is a man drowning in fear. Fear of losing. Fear of letting go.

And the worst part? I was the reason for it.

My chest ached at the thought.

I don’t know what to do. My mind screams at me to run, to distance myself from whatever this is. How do you comfort a man who refuses comfort?

But my heart moves before my head can stop it.

Acting on impulse, I lifted a hand slowly, gently, and placed it on his face. My palm rested against the smooth skin of his cheek, my fingers barely grazing his jaw.

I had never touched him before.

Lucien had never allowed it. And I knew, knew with every fiber in my being that this was a terrible idea. If he woke up to my hand on his face, things could turn disastrous in the blink of an eye.

But if I did nothing, I would be strangled to death beneath him.

I swallowed hard and forced my trembling fingers to remain still against his skin.

He tensed slightly.

My heart pounded so violently I was sure he could hear it.

"Please don’t wake up," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

For a moment, I thought about pulling away. I should let go before it's extremely too late.

But before I could act, he shifted. His arm, which had been wrapped around me in a suffocating grip, loosened as he turned.

I nearly sighed in relief. This was my chance.

Now. Move now!

But just as I began to inch away, his hand shot out, catching mine against his face.

Shit.

My breath hitched for what felt like the hundredth time that night.

I braced myself for the worst. For the sharp jolt of awareness, for the cold rage in his eyes. For him to shove me away, furious that I had dared to touch him.

But none of that happened.

Instead, Lucien did something far more terrifying.

He sighed, his grip firm yet almost… gentle.

My pulse skidded to a halt.

Still in the depths of sleep,Then, as if drawn by instinct, Lucien grabbed my hand and placed it on his chest, his fingers curling around mine as if to hold me there. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he shifted again, shifting his other arm above my head, securing me in place before pulling me closer. His warmth surrounded me, his breath ruffling my hair as he snuggled into me.

I gasped.

His face buried into my hair.

His entire body settled.

And just like that, his breathing evened out, the tension in his muscles melting away.

Like he had found peace.

While I was the one now trapped in deep shit.

I sucked in a shaky breath. There was no escaping this, not without waking him, and that was a risk I wasn’t willing to take.

Calm down. Just… breathe.

I forced myself to relax, my mind scrambling for some kind of logic to hold onto.

There must be cameras. Knowing Lucien, his estate was probably crawling with surveillance. If he woke up furious, accusing me of whatever this was, he could check the footage himself.

At least, that was what I told myself.

But the warmth surrounding me, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath my palm, made it hard to focus on anything else.

Despite the chaos of it all…

I felt myself drifting off.