82

Athena

Moore was carried by Lucien!

I stared at my phone, frozen.

The image burned into my mind like a cruel joke, one I couldn't wake up from. My grip tightened around the device as my anger swelled, boiling over with every second I continued to look.

The headline at the top of the article taunted me, even though my name wasn’t mentioned.

“Billionaire elite Lucien Giordano spotted outside his launch event carrying his once-disgraced wife in his arms. Has he finally forgiven her for the humiliation she caused him six years ago?”

Wife… why do they call him his wife? Moore is no wife to Lucien!

I scrolled, unable to take my eyes away, another one followed.

“Enemies to lovers? Has the great Lucien Giordano rekindled his past love with Moore?”

My breath hitched. I felt like the air had been knocked out of my lungs.

No.

This wasn’t the Lucien I knew. There was no way in hell he would do that for Moore. For her.

Lucien never looked at her the way he looked at me.

He had never carried me before.

Never treated me with that level of tenderness in public. Never. Not once.

Whenever we attended an event together, he would be distant, formal, always treating me as his business partner. It had been an unspoken rule between us, whatever we did behind closed doors had no place in the public eye.

But now… this?

The humiliation burned deep.

I found my hands shaking vigorously, my forehead sweaty as I struggled to stay calm.

Has Moore wrapped him up in her hands? Does she now hold him in her fingers? Is he in love with her?

Moore wasn’t just standing by his side. She wasn’t just walking with him into the event like an equal. She was in his arms. Like his possession, a priceless possession.

I gritted my teeth, my body trembling with fury. This had to be a mistake. A ploy. A misunderstanding.

Lucien wasn’t soft.

Lucien wasn’t sentimental. He hated her. Fucking hate her!

Lucien wasn’t the type of man who would carry a woman unless she meant something to him.

My fingers clenched so hard around my phone that my nails dug into my palm. Without a second thought, I pressed his number, my pulse hammering in my ears.

The line rang once.

Twice.

Pick up.

I needed to hear his voice. I needed an explanation. I needed him to tell me this was nothing.

He wouldn't fall in love with Moore. I don't care if I wasn't supposed to act this way. Lucien knew I wanted him, he knew I wanted us beyond the benefits. I wanted all of him!

Another ring.

And then—

Click.

His voice slid through the receiver, deep and steady.

“What, Athena?”

The way he said my name. So impersonal, so indifferent, doused my rage instantly, replacing it with something else.

Something worse.

Longing.

My stomach twisted. My skin prickled. My pussy throbbed. I wanted him that moment. I want his hard cock buried down my throat while he clenched my hair so tightly and fuck my mouth with no mercy.

God. How much had I missed him?

The way he touched me.

The way he broke me apart and put me back together again.

The way he made me wait, made me beg, made me crave him more than I had ever craved anything.

I had always thought I meant everything to him. How else will I explain him being loyal to me? It was only me he fucked, no one else.

But now he's replacing me. Moore was taking my place and not only does it hurt so much, it's frustrating.

How could he do that to me? Just how?

Hadn’t I been there through his darkest times? Hadn’t I given him all of me?

And yet, Moore, that woman was standing where I was supposed to be.

She was touching what was mine.

She was making headlines with my man.

I wouldn’t let it happen.

I couldn’t.

I swallowed hard, forcing the desperation out of my voice. Don’t let him know how much this is breaking you.

“Lucien…” I said, carefully measured, refusing to let him hear how much I wanted to say more.

There was a pause. Then, coolly, “You called. Why?”

So distant.

So detached.

Where was the man who used to burn for me? If he ever did. He burned just for my body and he detached me the moment he's done.

I forced myself to focus. I couldn’t lose control. Not now.

“I was just wondering if you were okay,” I said, my voice soft, almost hesitant. “I… I haven’t seen you in a while. You haven't called nor asked me to come. It had never been this long.”

A weak excuse. I knew it.

Lucien wasn’t stupid.

A part of me hoped he would say something more. That he would sense the hidden meaning beneath my words. That he would give me something.

Instead—

“I’m fine.”

One heartbeat.

Two.

Silence stretched between us, heavy and unbearable.

Before I could say anything else, he spoke again.

“Is that all?”

I felt my throat tighten.

I wanted to ask him why.

Why hadn’t he called?

Why was Moore with him?

Why had he carried her?

Why was he treating me like a fucking slutty stranger? Just why?

But I knew Lucien.

If I asked, I would only be giving him power over me. I would only be showing him how much it hurt.

So instead, I whispered, “Yes.”

He didn’t even let me finish.

“Good.”

And then the call ended.

Just like that.

I stared at the screen, my fingers trembling.

He had hung up on me.

Lucien never hung up on me. He never did. We conclude, we talk and we make decisions before the phone goes dead.

For the first time in years, a foreign sensation crawled up my spine. Something I had never felt before.

Fear.

I was losing him.

No—Moore was taking him from me.

“Fuck!” I screamed angrily, walking straight to my car.