Chapter 18 Chapter 18
Valentina
Lydia's voice had been droning on for the past twenty minutes, walking me through the presentation slide by slide while I absently scrolled through my laptop, nodding at the right moments. My mind wasn't here. It hadn't been here since morning.
"...and that brings us to the projected timeline," Lydia said, tapping the screen. "Do you have any questions, ma'am?"
I forced myself to focus on the numbers long enough to understand what she'd said.
"Yes," I replied softly. "You can go take a rest. I'll prepare for the next meeting."
She nodded politely, gathering her files. Lydia hesitated at the door.
"Is... everything okay, ma'am?"
My brows lifted. "What do you mean?"
She shifted, looking awkward. "I just noticed you've been quiet and, um... a bit moody since morning."
I forced a smile, the kind that didn't reach my eyes. "I'm okay, Lydia. Thank you."
She didn't look convinced, but she left anyway.
As soon as the door shut, I leaned back into my chair and dragged my hands through my hair, letting out a shaky breath.
Yes, I had been moody. Quiet. Irritated. Angry. All because I couldn't get him—fucking Lucien out of my head.
And yes, I knew I was at fault. I shouldn't have told him to kiss me. I shouldn't have let myself fall into that moment.But that didn't give him the right to call it a mistake.
A mistake?
He really pissed me off with that one. Like I was some fool begging for something he didn't feel too. Like he didn't kiss me back like he wanted to ruin me.
Fine.
If he wanted to call it a mistake, then great. He could do whatever he wanted. And I 'd do the same.
The rest of the workday blurred by. Eventually, Lydia and I entered the elevator together, her glancing at me every two seconds because I'd told her we'd be going home together. She'd already mentioned that Lucien's car was outside waiting, but I ignored it.
I told him he didn't have to pick me up. So what the hell was he trying to prove?
When we stepped outside, sure enough his stupid sleek black car was parked exactly where he usually waited.
Pathetic, I thought. Absolutely pathetic.
"Ma'am, I'm going the opposite direction," Lydia said softly.
"Alright. Goodnight," I told her, and we parted.
I walked toward the road, pulled out my phone. One arrived within minutes. I slipped inside, gave the driver my address, and finally exhaled.
I scrolled through social media, replying to messages in my sisters' group chat. They'd been sending memes, updates, voice notes everything. That was their own freedom to outside world. I'd barely been responding.
I was typing out a reply when the taxi suddenly braked hard.
"What—" I looked up.
The door was suddenly yanked open and Lucien stood there. My heart didn't fail to escalate at the way his jaw was clenched.
"What are you doing?" I blurted.
"Get out." He said in a cold tone.
I blinked. "What? No. What are you even doing? Taxi driver please drive."
"If you step on that accelerator," Lucien said to the driver without looking away from me, "you won't see tomorrow."
A shiver tore straight down my spine.
The driver's fear was instant.
"Lucien, what is wrong with you? Why are you acting crazy?" I was beginning to get real pissed at the stunt he was pulling.
He didn't answer.
"Get out," he repeated. "Or I'll drag you out."
"Sir," the trembling driver turned to me, "I'm sorry. Please. I don't want to die. I have a family."
We were on the quiet stretch of the highway. Barely any cars. Just darkness, wind, and Lucien's terrifying calm.
My heart hammered as I grabbed my bag and stepped out. The moment I closed the door, the taxi sped off, tires screeching.
I spun on Lucien.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" I shouted. "You can't just threaten people and drag me out of taxis! Have you lost your mind?"
He grabbed my wrist firm, controlled and walked me toward his car, ignoring every word spilling out of me.
"Let me go!" I yanked at my hand.
He shoved me inside the passenger seat and slammed the door. I lunged for the handle, but the locks clicked.
Anger boiled up so fast it shook my voice. "Are you stupid? What is your problem? Why are you acting so childish? So fucking insane?"
And the look on his face froze my blood. He gave me a death glare and I didn't know why the words to say died down in my throat.
"You're calling me insane?"
I swallowed. "Because you are. What you did was—"
He leaned closer, the shadows cutting sharp lines along his jaw.
"Do you have any idea what it did to me... seeing you get into another man's car?"
Oh.
My breath caught not in fear, but something molten, something stupid that curled low in my stomach and made me feel even angrier at myself.
"That's not your business," I snapped, gripping my bag. "You don't own me."
“Yes. I don’t own you.”
For a second, I relaxed until he added:
“But I do have responsibility on you.”
I laughed. A sharp, bitter sound. It tasted like frustration and confusion and a million things I didn’t want to feel.
“Did you hear yourself?” I shot back. “Your father is not even here. He wouldn’t even know whether you picked me up or not. So please stop pretending you’re doing this out of some moral duty.”
I pushed the knife in deeper.
“And I already told you, you don’t have to pick me up. So why are you getting worked up over me getting into another man’s car?” I folded my arms, heat burning my face. “He’s a driver, Lucien. He’s doing his job.”
He stepped closer. Too close.
“I don’t give a fuck,” he said, voice dropping to something dangerous. “You are mine.”
Everything stopped.
Breath. Air. Thoughts.
I blinked once, twice because for a moment I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly.
His eyes held mine, like he’d just spoken a fact instead of turning my entire world upside down.
You are mine.
What the hell was happening? He was the same man who told me the kiss was a mistake. The same man who pulled away like he regretted touching me at all.
Now he was—Claiming me?
“What do you even carry me for? First you say the kiss was nothing. Now you’re—this. You’re confusing.”
I swallowed hard, anger and confusion tangling painfully in my throat.
“I am not yours,” I said, forcing the words out. “The kiss was a mistake. And it should stay like that. It can never happen again.”
Lucien didn’t explode. He just… moved.
Slowly. Intentionally. He lifted his hand and placed it against the car door beside my head caging me in without touching me.
His face inches from mine. Eyes burning. Voice quiet enough to make my knees feel unsteady.
“It wasn’t a mistake,” he whispered. “And you know it.”
I opened my mouth but he cut me off, leaning even closer, his breath warm against my cheek.
“You say it can never happen again,” he murmured, “But the next time you ask me to kiss you, Valentina…I will do more.”