Chapter 24 Chapter 24
Lucien
Valentina's father was standing near the bar, speaking to some investors with that self-righteous, polished arrogance he'd perfected over the years. My jaw tightened so hard it hurt. Now that I'd seen really seen how he spoke to her, how he made her flinch, how his words had carved straight into her chest...No. I wasn't letting that go.
He might be her father, but blood didn't erase cruelty. It didn't excuse it. It didn't give him the right to bruise her spirit and walk away like she meant nothing.
And I sure as hell wasn't going to let him do it again. He was going to pay for speaking to her the way he did. And I would decide how.
My fingers twitched at my side, remembering the way she'd looked in the restroom eyes glossy from unshed tears, lips parted, voice shaking as she asked what she'd ever done to deserve being treated like that. The second she'd let her guard drop, I felt something inside me split open. Something I hadn't felt in a long time. Something dangerous.
I should leave it alone. I know that.
But when it comes to Valentina, logic is useless. Boundaries are nonexistent. And control? I lose it the second she looks at me like I'm the only solid thing she has left to hold on to.
My gaze flicked toward the far end of the hall. She kept close to father, forcing herself into composure, chin lifted even though I knew her throat was tight.
And despite the crowd, despite the noise, despite the thousand eyes around us, her gaze found mine.
Just for a second. But it was enough.
Enough to let me know she still felt everything I'd done to her in that restroom. Enough to remind me that if I ever got her alone again, I wasn't sure I'd stop this time.
My attention snapped back to her father when he casually reached for a drink. He laughed at something someone said, like he hadn't just shattered his daughter minutes ago. Like he wasn't walking around breathing air he didn't deserve.
I stood there, hands in my pockets, posture relaxed enough to fool anyone who didn't know me.
He hurt her. He made her bleed on the inside. And nobody did that. Not to Valentina. Not in front of me.
In my mind, there was only one promise. She will never cry because of him again. Not while I'm breathing.
The ride home was quite. I was behind the wheel, hands tight around the leather, my knuckles pale. My father sat in the back beside Valentina.
She kept close to the door, her body turned slightly away subtle to anyone else, obvious to me. She didn't want to be touched, didn't want to be looked at, didn't want to exist in the same air as the two men who controlled her life in very different ways.
I hated how I noticed everything about her. Her fingers were curled tightly in her lap, nails digging into her own skin as if she was holding herself in place.
She always did that. Bottled everything. Held the storm inside her chest instead of letting it out.
She could tell her father off. She could let him drown under the truth he deserved to hear. She could scream, spit, claw but she didn't. Because somewhere beneath all that fire, she'd been taught to shrink instead of burn.
And as for my father...
His was pressing on his phone claiming space he had no right to.
I hated that. I hated the control he exuded. I hated that she felt she had to endure it. I hated that her marriage had been forced upon her like a bargaining chip.
She wasn't meant for cages. Not this one. Not any.
I didn't know much about Valentina but I knew enough.
I knew she had wanted more, sacrificed too much and knew her father had clipped her wings long before her wedding band ever slid onto her finger.
And I knew I couldn't stand the sight of her crushed. Father was the one who finally sliced through the choking silence.
"Valentina," he said, leaning slightly forward. "What do you think about the proposal Mr. Clerk suggested?"
Her head lifted a little. She wasn't expecting him to speak but she answered carefully.
"I think it has potential. But the approach he's suggesting might be too risky for long-term stability. I'd recommend revising the timeline and reallocating some of the budget. It would give better results."
Ambrose nodded slowly, approvingly.
"Great. If we take the project, you'll be handling it. And now I see why your father vouched for you," he added.
There it was. The shift. So subtle, most people would miss it the way her face changed for a split second before she forced it back into composure. But I caught it. Every flicker. Every wound she tried to mask.
My grip on the steering wheel tightened until the leather bit into my palms.
We pulled into the driveway a few minutes later.
Father stepped out first and he turned to me. "Meet me in my study room Lucien."
Then he glanced at Valentina.
Briefly. Almost dismissively.
"Goodnight."
He didn't wait for her response.
Didn't care whether she gave one.
She lowered her gaze, her breath catching just slightly before she turned to me. I held her eyes.
"Can we talk for a moment?" .
She looked around, wary. Conscious of the guards. "Now?"
"Meet me in the west lounge. Down the hall, second left, past the glass balcony. Thirty minutes."
She nodded and then walked away quiet, small steps echoing against the marble. I followed behind her, giving space, my mind spinning with things I needed to say... and things I shouldn't.
Inside, I didn't get two steps before Mira practically launched herself at me.
"There you are!" she snapped. "What happened to your phone? I've been calling you for hours. You should throw that stupid thing away if you won't pick up."
I exhaled, resisting an eye roll.
"Calling me for what reason?" I muttered. "You know I don't answer random calls."
But even while I was speaking, my eyes tracked Valentina, who cast us a soft, almost cautious glance before disappearing down the corridor.
Mira didn't miss it but she was too busy talking.
"I am not a random person Lucien. I have that hiking event this weekend," she continued, waving her hands dramatically. "They won't give me access to the ridge unless someone of high name authorizes it. I need your help to coordinate. You just need to tell them you're Lucian Ambrose."
"You could've waited till I got home," I said flatly.
"You're a pain in the ass, you know that?" she huffed throwing her arm over my shoulder.
"Whatever." I fling it away.
"I'm serious. Will you do it?"
I started walking toward the stairs.
"Yes," I threw over my shoulder. "Stop nagging me."
Mira had been around since childhood, a fixture in my father's world, always hovering close enough to irritate me but never enough to push away permanently. She was loud, nosy, occasionally dramatic... but harmless. We have good cousin relationship even though she has once confessed her feelings to me. But I had strictly put that barrier between us. She's a good one but I don't see her as that type.
I reached my father's study room, already shifting my thoughts to the thirty-minute clock ticking in the back of my mind.
Meeting with my father took longer than I expected. While he talked, my eyes flicked repeatedly to the clock mounted behind him.
He didn't notice, of course. Ambrose never noticed anything that wasn't numbers or profit margins. The man could speak for an hour straight on fiscal reports and not once look up to see the irritation on my face.
But I didn't correct him. Didn't rush him. I just waited for the moment I could walk out.
When I got there Valentina was already there. Her head was bent, dark hair spilling forward as she scrolled through her phone maybe texting, maybe distracting herself.
I stood there longer than I should have. Just watching her. I hated that she could twist my insides like this.
Hated that she looked... delicate tonight.
She was supposed to be off limits.
Someone else's wife. Hands-off territory.
Yet here I was... drawn to her like a damn magnet.
My presence must've shifted the air because she lifted her head at that exact moment. Her eyes flicked to mine, playing it cool, but the first thing that came out of her mouth was, "You're late," she said.
Attitude.
My lips curved up. "Were you checking your time?"
She straightened a little. "Of course. I'm curious why you wanted to meet. What did you want to talk about?"
I kept my gaze pinned to hers.
"Your father."