Chapter 9 Closer
Lucy woke before dawn.
For a moment she didn’t know where she was—until the faint glow of the city filtered through her curtains and she realized she’d fallen asleep on her own couch.
Blanket over her shoulders.
Shoes neatly placed by the door.
Lucas’s doing.
He hadn’t stayed.
She could tell.
He would never cross a line she didn’t consciously allow.
But he’d stayed long enough to make sure she was safe.
Lucy rubbed her eyes, brain still fogged from the emotional exhaustion of last night.
The threatening note sat on her kitchen counter, sealed in an evidence bag Marco had produced like it was nothing.
She shivered.
This wasn’t the first threat she’d ever received—but it was the first one that felt personal.
Her phone buzzed.
Lucas: I’m downstairs.
Lucy froze, staring at the screen.
Of course he was.
She found him leaning against the sleek black SUV outside the building, hands in his pockets, eyes fixed on the entrance like he expected trouble to crawl out at any moment.
When he saw her, his posture softened.
Barely.
Just enough for her to see the man underneath the mafia armor.
“You didn’t sleep.” Lucy crossed her arms.
He gave her a look. “Neither did you.”
“True.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Come on. I’m taking you to my place.”
Lucy blinked. “Excuse me?”
“It’s the safest location until I handle this.”
“No,” she said instantly. “Absolutely not.”
Lucas straightened, stepping close, his voice low and dangerous—but not to her. To whoever was threatening her.
“They found your building, Lucy. They got inside your apartment. And they left that note while Max was on shift. Do you really think staying here is an option?”
Her heart skipped.
“What do you mean got inside? My place wasn’t disturbed.”
“They didn’t break anything. They didn’t have to.” Lucas’s jaw flexed. “It means they watched you long enough to learn your habits. It means they know when you’re home. And when you’re vulnerable.”
A chill crawled down her spine.
“And,” he added quietly, “it means they want you scared.”
Lucy exhaled shakily. “Well… it’s working.”
His eyes softened. “Come with me.”
She hesitated. Not because she didn’t trust him.
But because she trusted herself less when he was close.
His presence pushed against her carefully built walls, cracked them, tested the boundaries.
But she nodded.
Because survival wasn’t optional.
And because being near him felt… safer than anywhere else.
Lucas’s home wasn’t what she imagined.
No gold.
No marble.
No gaudy displays of power.
A high-rise apartment overlooking the water, all sleek lines and subtle warmth. Dark wood floors, soft lighting, expensive but not ostentatious. A place built for privacy and control.
And comfort.
Lucy stepped inside and breathed out. “It’s… not what I expected.”
Lucas’s voice came from behind her. “What did you expect?”
“Blood? Guns on the coffee table? Some sort of villain lair?”
He smirked. “That’s downstairs.”
She whipped her head around—
His grin widened. “Kidding.”
He walked past her, but not before his hand brushed her lower back.
A small touch.
Too small to matter.
Too electric not to notice.
“Your room’s down the hall,” he said. “First door on the left. You’ll stay there.”
“I’m not staying here forever.”
“You’re staying until I catch who’s after you.”
She folded her arms. “Do you always get your way?”
“Yes,” he said simply.
She glared.
He looked amused.
For the first time since the note, she felt her breath coming easier.
Lucas gave her space—surprisingly.
Let her unpack.
Let her take in the room.
It was spotless, understated, and smelled faintly of cedar.
The bed looked impossibly soft.
She sat on the edge of it and sighed.
A soft knock sounded on the door.
“Come in.”
Lucas stepped inside, hands in pockets.
He looked suddenly unsure of himself, which startled her more than anything.
“I, uh…” He cleared his throat. “I had the kitchen stocked. Figured you might want breakfast.”
Lucy’s lips pressed together. “Are you always like this?”
He frowned. “Like what?”
“Soft when no one’s looking.”
His cheeks actually flushed—just a hint. “Don’t tell anyone.”
She smiled. “Your secret’s safe.”
Then the smile faded as she remembered the note, the threat, the shadow following her through the streets.
Lucas seemed to notice because he crossed the room slowly, like approaching something fragile.
“You’re not alone in this anymore,” he murmured.
Lucy looked up at him. “I’ve been alone for a long time.”
“You’re not anymore,” he repeated, firmer.
Her chest tightened.
Maybe it was the exhaustion.
Maybe it was the fear.
Maybe it was the impossibility of him.
But the words slipped out before she could stop them.
“Stay,” she whispered.
Lucas froze.
His breath hitched softly. His eyes darkened—not with lust, but with something deeper, more dangerous.
“Lucy…” His voice was rough velvet. “If I stay, I won’t pretend I don’t want you.”
Her pulse stumbled.
She held his gaze. “I didn’t ask you to pretend.”
He drew in a sharp breath.
Then he stepped closer—close enough that her knees brushed his thighs.
Close enough to feel the heat between them pull tight.
But he didn’t touch her.
Not yet.
Instead, he leaned down, his forehead touching hers, his voice barely a whisper.
“If I kiss you,” he said, “I won’t stop at a kiss.”
Lucy’s breath trembled.
“Maybe I don’t want you to stop.”
His eyes shut for a single, pained second.
Then—
Someone knocked sharply at the front door.
Lucas stiffened instantly, danger replacing desire in a heartbeat.
He straightened, jaw set. “Stay in this room. Don’t come out until I tell you.”
“Lucas—”
“Promise me.”
She swallowed. “I promise.”
He left silently, closing the door behind him.
Lucy stood there alone, heart pounding, realizing all at once:
She wasn’t afraid of the danger outside.
She was afraid of the way she felt about him.