Chapter 56 Chapter Three of His Favourite Sin

Chapter 56 Chapter Three of His Favourite Sin
Chapter Three – Salem
For three fucking days, I tried everything to make Lucian snap. I pushed, provoked, and tempted, but he didn’t even flinch. So, I gave up—for now and spent the next few days exploring the east wing of the mansion, my side of this cold, cavernous prison.
That’s when I realized something eerie: only Lucian and I actually lived here. The maids and butlers came in during the day to clean, then vanished like ghosts. No one ever stayed.
The silence was suffocating—the kind that crept into your bones. I once screamed just to test it, and the echo came back at me repeatedly, bouncing through the halls like a warning. It gave me chills every damn time.
But what really got under my skin was the surveillance. Tiny, nearly invisible cameras tucked into corners, camouflaged in shadows. Lucian had eyes everywhere. Watching. Recording. Waiting.
I rushed to my bedroom, heart racing, suddenly desperate to know if he’d placed a few there too. The second I found none, I felt… disappointed.
I wanted him to watch me.
There. I admitted it. I wanted his cold, calculating eyes on me when I changed, when I touched myself, when I let the silk sheets slip off my bare skin. I wanted him to see what he was denying himself. What he thought he could resist.
But instead, my room was clean. Untouched. Private.
And that privacy felt like rejection.
So I started leaving the door cracked when I undressed. Walking slower past the main hall when I knew he’d be coming out of his study. Leaning over the banister in nothing but a towel after a long bath, dripping wet and humming low like a siren.
Still—nothing. No slip in his mask. No lingering gaze. No punishment.
It was driving me insane.
Then, school started the next week—online, obviously. Mr. Vale had managed to get me registered before I even thought to ask, of course. Because he was always ten steps ahead, always moving silently behind the curtain.
The classes bored me. The lectures dragged. I barely paid attention. Not because I couldn’t handle the work, but because I didn’t care. What was the point of learning theories and laws when my mind was glued to the man who ghosted through the mansion like smoke—untouchable, unreadable, unavailable?
He left for work by six every morning—before the sky even stirred. And he came back late. Sometimes six p.m., sometimes eight. Sometimes, I didn't even hear the door. We lived on opposite ends of the mansion, and that distance wasn’t just physical anymore. It felt like a fucking canyon. A cold one.
Most days, I didn’t see him at all.
And the longer he ignored me, the more feral I became.
Because it wasn’t just about wanting his attention anymore.
It was about needing it.
Starving for it.
And if he thought I’d give up—if he really thought I’d tire out and become some good little girl who studied and stayed silent in her east wing—then he clearly didn’t know whose daughter he’d taken in.

He wasn’t special.
That’s the first thing I noticed about Jace when I spotted him outside the bakery in town—leaning against his bike, smoke curling from his mouth, brown eyes glancing lazily at passing skirts. He looked like every other overconfident, leather-jacket-wearing, rough-around-the-edges kind of guy. The type who thought he was the one doing the hunting.
But I was the one prowling.
And Jace? He’d do just fine.
I tugged my hood lower, the corner of my mouth curling up as I crossed the street. It was a game, after all. This wasn’t about Jace. It was about him.
Lucian Vale.
The man who watched me like I was both a curse and a drug he hated craving. The one who'd slammed down rules when I moved into his mansion, as if he was afraid of what we’d become if those rules cracked. No wandering into his side of the house, no testing him.
But I was done playing good.
After that night—after I touched myself moaning his name into the pillows, after I dreamed of him taking me against the walls he owned—I knew I wanted more than dreams. I wanted his control to break. I wanted his voice low and ruined, his hands rough and greedy. I wanted to make him lose his goddamn mind.
I peeled off my hoodie, revealing the tight red gown clinging to my fat ass—something Jace would eat up with his eyes. It was barely a dress, just one skinny rope strap holding it up. Short enough to flash the undercurve of my ass, red panties peeking through. My boobs were nearly spilling out. Then I walked up to Jace, and smiled with just enough innocence to bait him, and asked for a ride.
He grinned like he’d won the jackpot.
If only he knew.
“Where to, sweetheart?”
I dragged my teeth across my bottom lip. “Someplace private.”
Jace revved the engine, and I climbed on behind him, wrapping my arms around his waist. Not too tight, not too clingy. I wasn’t trying to seduce him. I was using him. A decoy. A weapon.
I let the back gates creak open deliberately. I made sure Jace's laugh echoed in the hallway as I led him through my side of the mansion—the side Lucian never stepped foot in unless something disturbed his precious order.
I could feel it already. The shift.
Lucian knew.
I didn’t even need to go to the west wing to feel it—that cold, furious presence watching everything. Somewhere, tucked behind marble walls and velvet curtains, Lucian Vale had paused his book, set down his scotch, and gone perfectly still.
Like a wolf catching the scent of another.
I smiled knowing he was home.
So when I brought Jace home, I made sure I was loud. I laughed too hard at his jokes. Let my heels click with too much rhythm against the polished floors. I even slammed the door harder than necessary when we stepped into my side of the mansion. Because I wanted him to see it.
He’d never touched me. Not even once. Not even when I sat too close on the velvet settee in the shared library, my skirt practically around my waist. Not even when I brushed past him wearing nothing but a towel and my shameless grin.
But I’d seen how his jaw flexed.
I’d watched the veins in his forearms bulge when I let my robe slip a little too far.
He wanted me. He just hadn’t cracked yet.
So tonight, I handed him the hammer.
Jace didn’t matter to me. He was a willing one, sure, with pretty-boy looks and fast hands. But I wasn’t wet for him. I was wet because I knew Lucian was watching... And listening. I could feel his presence like static behind the walls, like a storm waiting to tear me apart.
Jace’s hand slipped under my dress the second we crashed into my wing. My back hit the hallway wall and he groaned like he thought I was his for the night. I let him touch me—just enough and then I averted my gaze to the camera, a mischievous smirk forming on my face.
And he snapped.
Minutes passed and the air changed before I saw him. A cold drop of silence. Then the click of his shoes. Measured. Deadly.
Jace’s mouth was on my neck, his hand under my dress, two fingers pushing against my panties.
And then—
“You done playing house, sweetheart?”
Lucian’s voice didn’t shout. It didn’t need to. It was dark velvet, soaked in danger. It rumbled like thunder, low and sharp, and Jace shivered and trembled like he’d been electrocuted.
“You have three seconds,” he said, voice like gravel and smoke. “To get your hands off what belongs to me.”
Jace turned with a sneer on his face, “The fuck are you to order me around?”
One.
Lucian didn’t raise a brow. Didn’t even look at me. All of his focus burned straight through Jace.
Two.
Lucian rolled his neck. Slow. Leisurely. Like a man holding back a storm.
And Jace?
Jace appeared frightened but still maintained a facade of fearlessness.
“Wait—”
Three.
Lucian moved. He was a shadow in the hallway, six-foot-something of raw male power in a black button-down, sleeves rolled up, chest rising like he’d been holding back for years.
A blur of motion. Precise. Deadly. His hand wrapped around Jace’s throat and slammed him into the wall so hard, the frame beside us crashed to the floor.
Jace choked out a breath. Lucian's face didn’t move. No twitch. No flicker. Like violence was just a regular Tuesday.
“You walked into my home,” he said, deadly calm. “Touched what’s mine. And now you think I owe you an explanation?”
“Yours?” Jace wheezed, struggling against the grip. “She brought me here—”
Lucian leaned in, eyes cold as marble. “I don’t give a fuck if she dragged you in by the cock,” Lucian said, his tone deadly.
His hand tightened around Jace’s neck, thumb pressing against the pulse. “She wants to play games? Let her. She’ll learn the rules the hard way.”
Jace choked, his hands flying up in weak protest, but Lucian didn’t budge.
“But you…” he leaned in, his voice dipping to something cold and poisonous. “You don’t get to be her pawn. Not here. Not in my house. Not in my fucking sight.”
He shoved him back against the wall, the thud loud enough to echo. “Touch what’s mine again,” Lucian growled, “and I’ll rip your hand off and feed it to you.”
“Lucian.” My voice was breathless. I should’ve stopped him. The poor boy was struggling to breathe and he could pass out or worse, die if I don't do something.
But I couldn't move or say anything except his name.
“You brought this boy here to make me jealous, little girl?” His eyes snapped to mine, hot and brutal. “Did you think I wouldn’t come?”
My lips parted.
He stepped back from Jace like he’d just remembered he was there. “Get out,” he said simply. “Before I change my mind.”
Jace staggered, grabbed his jacket from the floor, and bolted without a word.
We were alone now. The silence was louder than the earlier moans.
Lucian didn’t move. He just stood there, breathing like a caged animal, watching me with storm-black eyes that promised ruin, “You planned that, didn’t you?”
I swallowed hard, leaning back against the wall, my dress still rumpled from Jace’s hands. “I don’t know what you mean.”
He was on me in two strides.
One hand braced the wall beside my head. The other? Fisted in my hair.
“You think you can play these little games?” he hissed. “Flirt and prance and bring some pathetic boy into this house, let him lay his filthy hands on you—when you know damn well who you belong to?”
My breath hitched.
“I don’t belong to anyone,” I whispered.
Lucian’s eyes darkened. He tugged my head back with a hard pull of my hair, baring my throat, “You’ve been mine since the day you stepped into my house, Salem.”
He crashed his mouth onto mine without warning.
It wasn’t sweet. It wasn’t careful. It was possession, domination, punishment.
And I fucking moaned.
His tongue pushed into my mouth like it had every right to claim it. His knee wedged between my thighs, pressing up—hard, rough, relentless.
“You wanted me to lose control?” he growled, pulling back just long enough to drag my soaked panties down my legs. “Congratulations, little tease. You’ve got me.”