Chapter 11 Chapter 11

Chapter 11 Chapter 11
Valentina 

I was supposed to be angry. Furious, even. But what I felt instead was... something else entirely.

My body was hot, my pulse erratic, and there was this ridiculous tingling beneath my skin I couldn't explain. What the hell was wrong with me?

Lucian was rude. Arrogant. He talked like he owned me when he was supposed to be following his father's orders. And yet... the moment he walked out of that room, every part of me was still trembling.

I should have ignored him, worn whatever I wanted. But somehow, I found myself changing into another outfit, one that didn't show as much skin. Why? Why did I even listen to him?

When I stepped out of the dressing room, he was there leaning back on the couch, phone in hand. His gaze lifted slowly, and when his eyes found me, something in them changed.
There was danger there. Darkness. And beneath it, something that made my stomach twist a flicker of desire he didn't bother to hide.

My heart started racing again, and I hated that it did.

He didn't say a word. He just stood, motioned to the saleslady, "We'll take this." Then he turned and walked out, leaving me staring after him like an idiot.

What the hell is wrong with that man?
And worse what the hell is wrong with me for doing as he said?

The saleslady returned a moment later, her smile bright. "Please, ma'am, follow me."

I trailed after her, trying to steady my heartbeat. She picked out a matching pair of heels and a bag, "Mr. Lucian selected these for you himself."

Of course he did. Controlling, impossible man.

I muttered a quiet thanks, even as annoyance stirred in my chest. When she handed me my old clothes in a neat shopping bag, she added cheerfully, "Thank you for shopping with us! And please, do tag us with a picture of you and your Mr. Lucian we'd love to feature such a beautiful couple!"

I almost laughed. If only she knew. Even if I weren't married, I'd never ever see myself with a man like him.

I gave her a polite smile instead of correcting her and walked out.

Outside, Lucian was already in the car, the engine off, one hand resting on the steering wheel like he'd been waiting for years instead of minutes.

I opened the door and slipped inside, setting my bag of old clothes on the back seat. Neither of us said a word. He started the car, and the soft sound of music filled the silence.

It was almost worse than the quiet. The song was calm, nothing like the chaos boiling inside me. He drove like nothing had happened. Like he hadn't just cornered me, said things that still made my body react in ways I didn't want to think about.

Finally, I couldn't take it anymore.

"Next time, don't touch me without my permission."

Lucian didn't respond to what I said.
He just kept driving, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other resting lazily on the console like the world belonged to him.

I stole a glance at him from the corner of my eye. The way his shirt stretched across his shoulders, the way the veins along his forearm stood out it was impossible not to notice. Even the way his wrist flexed when he shifted gears did something strange to my pulse.

I looked away quickly. God, why was I even noticing this?

My mind kept betraying me flashing back to the changing room. The way his voice had dropped low, the heat in his words, the way his breath had brushed against my skin. I hated that the memory made me shiver.

By the time we pulled up in front of the gala venue, I had to take a deep breath just to steady myself. The building looked impossibly grand crystal chandeliers spilling light through tall glass panels, music floating softly into the night air.

Lucian stepped out first. He walked around the car, tall and sure, his dark suit cutting a clean, dangerous figure beneath the glow of the lights. From the back, he looked carved from control broad shoulders, deliberate steps, every movement calculated.

The moment we stepped inside, the air changed. The room was full of people elegant women in glittering gowns, men in sharp tuxedos, laughter and champagne bubbling everywhere. The smell of expensive perfume and money lingered thick in the air.

My fingers twitched against the clutch in my hand. This was my first time at an event like this.

Father had never let me attend before he always said galas were for big business men his definition of saying girls like his daughter isn't supposed to be there, neither my sisters. It was always him and Mother who came. I was meant to stay home, to stay unseen.

Now, standing here under hundreds of eyes, I felt exposed.

Lucian didn't seem fazed at all. He stood tall infront of me. I tried not to think about how that single touch burned more than it should.

We head over to Ambrose. He was standing with a glass of whiskey in his hand, deep in conversation with two men who looked just as powerful as he did.

When his eyes lifted and found us, his face broke into a satisfied smile. "Ah, you're finally here."

Lucian gave a small nod. I managed a polite smile.

Ambrose gestured for us to come closer. "Valentina," he said, turning toward me, "these are some old friends of mine. This is Mr. Donovan one of our oldest business partners. And this," he continued, placing a hand on my shoulder, "Is Mr. Carver. He runs the biggest investment firm in the city."

It baffled me how quick it was for him to be all nice to me outside. Even touching me. Although I felt nothing compared to how I felt when Lucian had his hand on me. Damn me!

The men smiled, shaking my hand one after another. "Lovely to meet you," one of them said.

"You really got a beautiful wife Ambrose,"

Amrbose laughed squeezing my shoulder. "I might look old but I have a good taste you know,"

I smiled politely again, though my nerves were still dancing beneath my skin.

While Ambrose continued talking, introducing me to yet another associate, I couldn't help glancing at Lucian. He stood just behind us, his expression unreadable, but his jaw was tight. His teeth were clenched, the muscle there twitching every few seconds as if he was trying to control something simmering beneath the surface.

I had no idea what it was. But I could feel it the weight of his gaze on me, sharp and hot even across the small distance between us. And it made it almost impossible not to stare at him.

After a series of introductions friends, partners, people whose names blurred into one another I finally got a moment to breathe.

I didn't know Ambrose could smile this much. Or talk this sweetly.

He was laughing, shaking hands, throwing around praises like confetti. "My wife," he'd say proudly, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder. "Beautiful, isn't she? Brilliant too." He was beaming. Acting the perfect husband.

And yet... the truth was, we'd never even sat down to have a real conversation. Not about life, not about us nothing.

But for business purposes, it seemed I was suddenly a prized trophy.

I caught sight of one of the waiters weaving through the crowd with a tray of drinks and stopped him. "Champagne, please."

The glass was cool against my fingers, and I took a slow sip, letting the fizz slide down my throat. The bubbles dulled the edge of the fake smiles and loud laughter surrounding me.

Lucien was nowhere in sight.
Only God knew where he'd disappeared to.

Maybe he'd already left the gala. He didn't strike me as someone who enjoyed small talk or social pleasantries. He'd probably rather fight the world than stand here pretending to be polite.

I took another sip, sighed, and fished my phone out of my clutch.
A new message from Violet.

Hey, just checking in. Dad had a bit of an argument with Mom. You okay?

I stared at the text for a moment. If it were before, maybe I would have cared. But after they sold me off to Ambrose, my heart stopped reacting to anything related to "family."

I typed back, Everything will be fine, and pressed send.

Just as I was about to slip my phone back into my bag, a voice brushed against my ear. "What's a beautiful lady like you doing here alone?"

I lifted my head. The man standing before me was tall, maybe a little over six feet, with sandy hair slicked back neatly. He was handsome young, with a sharp smile and a frame that leaned more toward slim than broad. Nothing like Lucien's presence that filled every inch of a room.

Still, there was something smug in his grin.

I didn't answer. Just gave him a polite, disinterested glance and went back to my phone.

He chuckled softly, undeterred. "I'm serious. A woman like you shouldn't be standing here by herself."

"I'm not alone," I said flatly, still tapping at my screen.

"Oh?" He stepped a little closer. "Then who's keeping you company?"

I looked up properly this time. "I'm married."

For a moment, his expression flickered then that same smirk returned. "Married, huh? I wouldn't have guessed." His tone was teasing, and his eyes were still lingering where they shouldn't.

I clenched my jaw. "You can guess again then," I muttered, turning slightly away.

But he didn't move. He was still there, trying to make conversation, saying something about how I didn't "look married," his voice dripping with arrogance.

The irritation in my chest was just about to boil over when another voice cut cleanly through the air.

"Back off."

It was deep. Cold. Dangerous.Lucien.

He was standing just a few feet behind the man, his gaze locked on him with a darkness that made even the lights around us feel dimmer. His suit jacket hung open, his posture relaxed but his eyes? They were anything but.

The man turned slightly, frowning. "Excuse me?"

Lucien took a step forward, and the change in the air was immediate. "You heard her," he said, his tone low, each word sharp enough to slice through noise. "She said she's married. Which means you should walk away before I make you."

The man blinked, trying to size him up, but something in Lucien's voice something cold and absolute made him hesitate.

And then, without another word, the stranger muttered something under his breath and left.

Lucien's gaze followed him until he disappeared into the crowd. Then his eyes slowly dropped to me.

I didn't know what to say. My heart was beating too fast, part anger, part... something else I refused to name.

And I didn't know if it was the champagne, or the look in his eyes but all I could think about was the way he'd said back off. Like I actually belonged to him and not his father.

I kept my eyes on my phone, pretending not to notice him standing there, even though every nerve in my body was screaming at me to look up. I had already texted Violeta, but she hadn’t responded, and the buzz of the gala around me faded into white noise. Anything to keep my mind from wandering back to Lucien.

“There’s something called… thank you,” he said, his voice cutting through my thoughts.

I lifted my head, confused. “Thank you for what?”

“The guy that just left. He looked like he wanted to get you in his bed.”

My eyes narrowed, and a flush of irritation spread across my chest. “What exactly is wrong with you?” I snapped, pressing my phone a little harder as if it could shield me from him. “First, you have a problem with my dress. Now you’re trying to control who I’m around? Your father isn’t even bothered by that.”

“I’m not my father,” he said, stepping closer. The air seemed to tighten between us, heavy and suffocating.

I froze. His words hit differently this time, more dangerous and an underlying meaning to it, somehow. I swallowed, my heartbeat quickening. “You’re right,” I said, forcing my voice steady though my chest was pounding. “You are not your father. I am married to your father… not you.”

His jaw clenched, and I felt the air shift. He took another step forward, and my stomach tightened in a mix of fear and something I wasn’t ready to name. The memory of the changing room, of how close he’d been, how he had pressed me against the wall, flared in my mind, making my pulse race faster.

“Careful with your words,” he murmured, his voice dropping so low I could barely hear it over the thrum of my heartbeat. “You should know… I don’t tolerate disrespect.”

I felt a shiver run down my spine. I tried to step back, to put space between us but it was useless. He was too close, too imposing, and even with people all around, it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of us.

I tried to steady my breathing, telling myself I could handle him, that I wasn’t weak. But the way his eyes darkened as they locked onto mine, the barely restrained intensity in his presence… I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Even Ambrose might see us now, and yet, he didn’t care. And neither could I. My body betrayed me, leaning slightly toward him despite myself, and I knew I had to fight this pull or risk losing control completely.