Chapter 50 Chapter 50
Lucien
I've been watching her all night. Every step she takes across that marble floor, I track it. Every smile she offers. Every hand she shakes. Every time father places his palm at the small of her back like she's something he owns.
My jaw tightens. How my father introduces her as "My wife."
She handles herself flawlessly. Elegant. Controlled. Intelligent. She speaks when necessary, listens when expected. She's not just beautiful in this room.
She dominates it. And the way they look at her. The politicians. The investors. The men who think money makes them powerful.
Their eyes linger too long. Travel too low. They have no right to look at her like that.
None. I swirled the drink in my glass, barely tasting it.
Fuck if I don't miss her. Being away from her has been harder than I imagined. Harder than I'll ever admit out loud.
But she asked for distance. She asked me to cool it down. To protect us. To keep my father from connecting the dots.
And I respected that. If that means acting cold...
If that means walking past her without touching her...
If that means pretending I don't feel her presence like a pulse under my skin then fine.
I'll give her that power. Even if it's killing me. Maybe I've overdone it. Maybe I've made it look like I don't care.
But I see her. The way her gaze follows me when she thinks I don't notice. The way she holds eye contact a second too long before looking away. The way her fingers tighten around her clutch when I get too close to someone else.
And in the kitchen the other day when she saw us.
Mira laughing. Reaching up. Teasing. I wasn't even in the mood.
Mira was just playing around, trying to lighten something that wasn't there. I let it happen because it meant nothing.
But the second I saw Valentina in the doorway. The fire in her eyes. God. If jealousy had a color, it would've been the way she looked at me.
And tonight, with her father here... with half the city's power standing under one roof...
I'm on edge.
Her father watches everything. Father pretends not to. Mira definitely does. When Valentina smiled at her sisters, something inside me settled.
That's real. That's her. Not the polished wife. Not the political symbol. Just Valentina. I wanted to talk to her.
Several times. But there was never a moment without eyes.
When she excused herself toward the restroom, I almost followed.
Almost. Then I saw Mira move in the same direction.
I stayed where I was. The last thing we need is suspicion.
I don't know what happened in there. But when Mira returned, her cheeks were flushed.
Not from makeup. From something else. Her expression was tight.
And Valentina when she came back, there was something different in her eyes.
Sharper. Like a storm barely contained. Most of the guests have started leaving now.
He's still laughing somewhere near the bar, holding court like a king. Ronan moves through the room casually, pretending to be detached.
But I see him. He's hovering around one of Valentina's sisters.
Violeta. They argue like they've known each other for years. Too close. Too comfortable.
If he's playing around, that's one thing.
If he intends to hurt her, that's another.
The last thing I want is someone from this family hurting someone Valentina loves.
Especially not my brother.
I set my glass down. Enough distance. Enough pretending. Across the room, Valentina was with her sisters.
She laughs at something Violeta says. She lifts her head slightly. Our eyes meet. This time, neither of us looks away.
I didn't move at first. I told myself I wouldn't.
If I walked toward her now, it would be obvious. Too direct. Too reckless.
But then she moved. Not toward me. Toward my father.
Like I was nothing. Like I didn't exist. My jaw tightened.
She said something to him. I couldn't hear it. He studied her face for a moment before nodding.
Then she stepped back. She walked back to her sisters I watched carefully as she said something to Ronan. Ronan listened, then reached into his inner jacket pocket.
He pulled something out. Car keys. Is she leaving?
Before I could move, Mira slid into my line of sight.
"Lucien," she said, slipping beside me. "Can we go somewhere else? This party is suffocating."
My eyes remained on Valentina.
"What do you mean?" I asked absently.
"There's a bar a few blocks from here. We could grab a drink. Something normal." She nudged my arm. "Uncle seems busy anyway."
"I'm not in the mood," I said flatly.
She pouted slightly. "You haven't been in the mood for anything lately."
My focus sharpened as I saw Valentina's mother guiding her sisters toward the exit. Ronan and Valentina followed.
Without thinking I fished out my phone moved away from Mira and called Ronan. He picked on the second ring. "Where are you and Valentina going?"
Silence. Then, "I'm taking her home."
My grip tightened around the phone.
"No."
A pause. "What do you mean, no?"
"She's not going with you."
"She asked me to."
"I'll be there," I said, my voice controlled but sharp. "Just wait."
I ended the call. When I turned, Mira was watching me.
"Everything okay?" she asked.
"Yes."
"You're leaving?"
"I have somewhere to be."
She studied me like she wanted to push further. But she didn't. Good. I stepped outside into the night air.
The parking area was less crowded now. The noise from inside was muffled behind closed doors.
I saw them immediately. Valentina stood near Ronan's car.
Her sisters and mother were gone. It was just the two of them now.
Ronan said something to her. She replied, calm.
I walked toward them. Ronan saw me first.
His expression shifted not surprised. Not amused. Aware.
Valentina turned at the change in his posture. Her eyes landed on me. Something flickered there.
"Let's go," I said.
Her brows drew together slightly. "Go where?"
Ronan exhaled lightly. "He said he wanted to take you home," he said casually. "I still have something to handle, so I'm off."
He looked at me for a second longer than necessary. A warning. Or a challenge.
I held his gaze. He nodded once, then walked past me without another word.
And just like that It was only us. She crossed her arms lightly.
"You didn't have to do that," she said.
"Yes, I did."
Her eyes sharpened. "I was perfectly capable of getting home."
"I know."
"Then why?"
Because the thought of her alone with him made something dark rise in my chest. Because I didn't trust anyone with her.
Because I missed her. Instead, I said, "I wanted to."
Silence stretched between us. The distance she asked for stood right there, like an invisible wall.
She followed without a word. We got into the car.
Silence took over, heavy and thick, pressing against my ears. The engine hummed as I drove, the streetlights flickering across her face.
After a few moments, she finally spoke.
"Do you know you're annoying right now?" she said quietly, her voice tense.
I didn't answer immediately. My hands tightened around the steering wheel.
"You've been ignoring me lately," she continued, her tone rising slightly, laced with frustration. "Like I don't matter at all."
I inhaled sharply and stopped the car at a red light. I turned slightly toward her, trying to explain.
"You asked for it," I said gently, my voice calm but firm. She let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head.
"I didn't ask for this," she said. "I didn't ask to be... ignored. I'm not okay with it."
I opened my mouth to argue, to defend myself further, but she cut me off.
"I miss you," she said, and her voice cracked. The words tumbled out faster now, urgent, raw. "I miss you so much it hurts, and I don't like this distance between us."
A tear slid down her cheek, and before I could react, another followed. I swallowed, my chest tightening.
She looked at me, vulnerability shining through the fury. The fire in her eyes softened into something tender, desperate.
"I... I can't keep pretending," she whispered. "I can't do this pretending anymore."
I wanted to reach for her, to tell her I felt the same, that I'd missed her every single day. But I stayed still, letting her vent, letting her words wash over me.
Because I knew. Every word she spoke, every tear she shed, mirrored exactly what I'd been feeling. I couldn't hold back anymore. So I reached over and grabbed her hand. Firm, unwavering.
"Valentina," I said, my voice low, almost growling. "Do you have any idea how much I've missed you?"
She looked at me, tears still glistening, cheeks flushed, lips trembling.
"I've tried to respect your wishes," I continued, voice shaking with anger and longing all at once. "I've tried to give you the space you demanded. And it's killing me. Do you know what it's like to see you across a room... to watch everyone's eyes on you... and I can't even... I can't even touch you?"
Her lips parted. I saw the shock flash across her face, the way her fingers tightened around mine.
"I... I didn't want to pressure you," I said, my thumb brushing the back of her hand. "I wanted to let you choose. But every moment away from you... it's been hell."
She swallowed hard, her chest rising and falling. "I... I missed you too," she admitted, voice barely above a whisper. "I... I hated this distance. I hated feeling like I wasn't enough for you, like you didn't... care."
Her words hit me like a punch.
"I care," I said immediately, my voice rough. "I care more than I can even put into words. More than you'll ever realize."
Her hand trembled in mine. I leaned slightly toward her, and she didn't pull away.
"I... I don't want to fight anymore," she whispered. "I just... I want you."
I exhaled sharply, closing the gap, careful not to startle her.
"You have me," I said, voice hoarse, thick with emotion. "Always."
Her forehead leaned against my shoulder. Her tears soaked the sleeve of my shirt as our lips met.