Lucian’s Reign: A Billionaire Romance

“An orphan dreams about one thing.

Family.

Unfortunately, sometimes family becomes a curse and not a blessing.

For their cruelty hurts way more than that of a stranger.”

Lucian

Location Unknown, United States

Lucian, 13 years old

A beeping sound echoes in the room, and I turn my head to the side, trying to avoid it, but the beeping only intensifies, dragging me from oblivion.

A groan slips past my lips as my eyes snap open only to shut again when the bright light from above blinds me, sending pain through my entire system.

Prickling, painful sensations surround my head, and I can almost see the invisible knives piercing my scalp. I groan, but this time louder only to cough into the mask attached to my face.

Is this a new torture designed by James to make me more compliant?

Ordering myself to snap out of my misery, I peel open my eyelids again, scrunching them a little while adjusting my vision, and frown when a white room comes into view.

Besides the huge window on my right, it has only the bed I’m lying on and machines next to me that speed up the annoying beeping with each of my movements.

I raise my hand to snatch the mask away, only to realize wires are attached to me; fear sweeps over me. I pull at the IV, wanting nothing to do with the dripping substance.

James warned me once that he could always use drugs so I would lie motionless and just let all these people hurt me.

I will not allow it.

It already has an effect on me!

A gasp snaps my attention, my head swinging to the left, and I see a woman wearing a green uniform march toward me as she quickly removes my mask. My entire throat feels as if a cat scratched it. “Shhh, it’s okay,” she whispers when I jerk under her touch, detesting any human contact as it always entails abuse. “No one is going to hurt you,” she promises, clicking on the monitor a few times. “Please stay calm. You need these vitamins.” She gently checks the IV, then grabs a plastic cup with a straw in it from the bedside table and lifts it to my mouth. “Small sips.” Her eyes are soft; she musters a smile my way, and that’s how I know this is a deception.

Because not once in my fucking life has anyone looked at me this way—as if I’m a real human being and not disposable trash.

A dog on a leash destined to always depend on its owner’s moods and commands.

Rolling my lips together, I shake my head, not letting her put anything in my mouth.

Demons have many faces on this earth so she can shove this smile of hers down her throat and leave.

Vitamins?

Yeah, right.

“Javier, come on. You need to take a few sips,” she urges me, and I blink in surprise at her uttering my name, which only cements the notion of this being James’s trick.

However, memories slam into me, hurting my brain so much I freeze and my hands fist as several things pop in my head one after another, almost making it impossible to focus on just one.

How Diego came and told me he would destroy James’s empire.

The keys he gave me and how I ran with all my might toward the basement, luckily never encountering anyone on my way, while gunfire along with screams reverberated through the place.

The kids watching me in awe and running right along with me to the exit, and how I hadn’t seen Andreas among them, although he wasn’t supposed to be busy that night.

How I decided to search for him and then…

Then I can’t fucking remember a thing.

“Javier,” the woman repeats gently places her hand on my chin. “My name is Dr. Amanda Smith. I won’t hurt you.”

A doctor?

Are we in a hospital?

I saw a few of those when we lived on the streets.

Did Diego’s plan succeed after all and we escaped James’s clutches?

Instant disappointment zips through me at the thought of not remembering it all, especially the face of a man who should have died in agony and instead probably just got shot.

A single fucking shot while he made my life a living hell.

“Javier.” The doctor says my name again, and I tentatively relax my jaw as the straw pushes through my chapped lips, the cold liquid bringing relief to my dry mouth. “Slowly, just a few sips.” I follow her instructions, and she puts the cup back on the table. “Good job, Javier.”

“How do you know my name?” I ask when she takes out a pen and then shines it into my eye as she lifts one lid up and repeats the action with the other.

“Your friend informed us.” She gets up, grabs a folder from beside the bed and writes something down on it. “You gave him and us all quite a scare.”

“Why?” Someone actually worried about me?

“The blast sent you flying several feet away, and as a result, you hit your head hard.” No wonder everything hurt, and that’s when I understand the heaviness in my head is also due to the bandage wrapped tightly around it. “Thankfully there’s no internal bleeding or damage. Just a minor wound that we had to stich up. You’re really lucky.”

A hollow chuckle escapes me along with desperation at her last statement.

Lucky.

That’s one word that could never be associated with me.

“Javier!” a familiar voice exclaims, and Andreas flies inside, wearing a shirt and sweatpants as he launches himself onto my bed and hugs me close. “You’re awake!” He leans back, and I wince a little as I notice how he seems relatively unscratched. “Do you remember anything?” An odd note coats his voice at this question, but when I shake my head, he visibly relaxes. “Don’t worry. I’ll fill you in.”

“Be careful, Andreas. I’ll leave you two, but the police will want to speak to you soon,” she warns us both before disappearing behind the door.

Sitting up, I hiss a little, and Andreas puts a pillow behind me so I’ll be more comfortable.

Although this bed is already the best and softest thing I’ve ever lain on. It almost swallows me whole! For a change, my muscles encounter softness rather than hard concrete.

“The police?”

Andreas nods, hopping higher on the bed. “Yeah. After you helped us all escape, there was a big blast, and the entire place blew up. The police arrived shortly after and took us all to the hospital. I heard them whisper something about foster care. The nightmare is finally over. They said all the bad guys died. Some nurses even cried seeing our wounds.” He waits a bit before adding, “Although they did mention missing kids databases, so who knows? Maybe someone searches for me out there.” He sighs, a dreamy expression settling over his features as happiness shines in his eyes.

It dims quickly though when I mutter, “You weren’t in the basement. Where were you?”

“With one of the clients,” he quickly replies, twisting his hands together, which always signals his nervousness.

“But you just said I helped you escape.”

He swallows harshly and barks a laugh, but it lacks any humor. “I escaped with the other kids. We found you and then ran to the door. After that you told us to run farther from the mansion to protect us from the blast.”

“James?”

“He was outside when it happened. Watched the entire thing crumble, crying his eyes out before someone shot him. He died there. The police even got his body.”

Anger and rage spread through me, polluting my mind, because indeed he had a quick death, but hopefully he fucking hurt when he watched his damned empire be destroyed.

A hard satisfaction for me, but this way no other child will have to experience his cruelty, and all of us can sleep well without being afraid.

Despite all this making sense, I can’t help but feel like Andreas is lying to me. We’ve been together for so long I recognize his bullshit easily.

But why would he lie? What is he trying to hide?

Before I can examine this thought further, Amanda and two men enter the room, but their appearances are vastly different.

The first one wears a police uniform, his head shaved, while his kind eyes glance at us, and he greets us. “Hello, boys.” We nod at them, and instinctively, Andreas grabs his legs, wraps his hands around his knees, and I sit up straighter ready to bolt or do something should their behavior present danger.

With adults, you never know when they’ll decide to strike.

My gaze moves to the man towering behind him, his dominant and masculine presence shrinking the room wrapped in the black suit he wears, and his dark hair falls to his shoulders.

His gray eyes flare in anger when he watches us; everything about him screams wealth and power. I freeze when his hawk-like eyes focus on me, as he scans me from head to toe, and something flashes on his face before indifference settles over it.

“Javier,” the officer addresses me as the doctor steps inside, her brows furrowing. “Would you please show us the birthmark on you shoulder?”

“I do not think that’s wise right now, Andrew,” Dr. Amanda grits through her teeth, but he shakes his head.

“We have to do it now.”

My mind swirls at this request, because how do they know about my birthmark?

The thing is in the shape of an apple, resting on my shoulder in a reddish-blue color.

Wanting for all this to be over, I slide the hospital gown from my shoulder and slightly turn around as police officer comes closer. I hear rustling in the background and glance over my shoulder to see him holding a picture next to it. “Yeah, that’s the one.” He then addresses the man when he goes to him, and I shift once again to watch them carefully, and Andreas does too. “Based on the birth certificate, photos, birthmark, blood type, and his estimated age, everything indicates that there is a huge chance he is your son.”

I still, barely breathing, while Andreas sucks air in, clearly as shocked by this information as me.

A son?

I have a father?

“We can try to search…”

Whatever the officer wants to say dies on his lips when my father raises his hand and speaks up for the first time, his deep voice sending chills down my spine. “No need. He’s the spitting image of me at that age. He’s my son. I have no doubts.”

He holds my stare as he says it, various emotions rushing through me at this admission.

Among them all, one is the most prominent.

Anger.

Deep, red-hazed anger sinks into my bones and tastes so bitter on my tongue that it tramples all the anger I’ve ever felt toward my captors and abusers.

Because of this man, all this happened to me.

A father is supposed to protect his child.

According to some, a hero whose one purpose requires him to shield his kids from any harm done to them.

Where was mine all this time?

How could he have allowed this to happen to me?

He’s rich.

Yet I was starved my whole life.

Where was my father all this time?

But more importantly… why did he find me now and what does he want?

The car drives through the open iron gates as I plaster myself firmer against the leather cushion, tugging at my coat, still not used to wearing so many clean clothes and shoes.

My father sits next to me, checking something on his watch, staying quiet, and I think he’s uttered around five to seven sentences ever since he dropped the bomb on me about his fatherhood.

After he signed some papers for me, they told me he would take me away since he had the rights over me. Despite my multiple injuries, none of them were serious, and the doctor wrote down all her recommendations as my father preferred the family physician to look after me.

Whatever the hell that meant.

Andreas stayed by my side all the time, mumbling how he was happy for me, although I saw traces of jealousy on his face, and fear too.

We’ve been together for so long that life apart seemed almost wrong. He was and still is my only friend after all.

Destiny decided otherwise though, and I’ve encountered a lot of powerful men to know that no matter my wishes, they will dictate their terms, and we’ll have to abide by them.

He cried a lot; to my astonishment, he was still capable of it.

My tears dried out a long time ago.

That’s when my father stepped in, directing his questions at me for the first time.

He wanted to know if Andres was important to me, and when I nodded, he called someone and then informed my friend that soon a family would adopt him. Which thrilled my friend, but worried me as he’s so trusting, and some adults might take advantage of it.

I wasn’t worried about me. I knew I would survive no matter what, but Andreas was a whole different story.

I tried to convince my father to bring him with me since he was so rich, but he raised his splayed palm and that was the end of the discussion.

Then he took us to his private plane where everyone treated me like a prince, afraid to even look at me, and my father ordered me to change into normal clothes.

I welcomed the silk against my skin and comfortable clothes that were just the right size.

The plane ride was long, and I stayed glued to the window for half the journey, marveling at the sight of the white clouds floating in the bright blue sky, letting us see the world up so high.

Ticklish sensations rushed through me along with excitement. I ate the food the steward brought me, finishing my chicken in record time.

Still though, I kept my gaze on my father who spent the journey reading some stuff and signing documents, his wrists moving flawlessly over the paper.

I dozed off watching him and wondering what thoughts flew in his mind in that moment. My head shifting so hard woke me when we landed, and I was surprised to see a blanket thrown over me and a pillow under my ear.

However, when I looked at my father, he still read something, not paying any attention to me.

Even among all these men who came to James’s gatherings, I’ve never seen someone with so much class and composure. As if the world lay at his feet and he just had to wiggle his finger for anything he wishes.

A person might come and tell me he is a king, and I would believe them, just by how much power his sheer presence possesses.

Which only fuels anger inside me, because the nightmare I lived in could have been avoided if he only cared more.

How did I end up on the streets anyway?

One time I tried to broach this subject in the hospital, still shocked at the news, but he ignored it, and I knew he’d never answer.

Unfortunately, his lack of an explanation urged my imagination to paint its own version of events in my head, hideous and painful in their nature, which demanded vengeance for everything I’ve endured.

A spacious garden and the scenery outside snaps me out of my thoughts, and I roll the window down, watching in awe at the enormous property while birds chirp in the distance.

What is it like to stroll around this garden, breathing in fresh air every day, and not exist in a cage while men…?

My hands fist on my lap, and I take a deep breath, pushing away painful memories.

The car pulls up beside the mansion that could fit a hundred if not more people as a man rushes outside, smiling widely. “Señor, you’re back.” He greets my father who gets out of the car first and then motions for me to do the same.

“Hola, Harold.” He addresses the man who glues his gaze on me and connects his hands, his eyes becoming misty. “This is Lucian.”

The name is jarring to my ears.

I prefer Javier because that’s the name of a boy who survived until he beat his enemies.

Lucian sounds foreign and plain weird, but once again, when I voiced my desire, my father raised his hand, which I quickly started to understand was his sign of the subject being closed.

“Hello, Lucian. Welcome to your home.” He opens his arms wide, ready to hug me when I step back and hit the car door, nausea rushing through at the prospect of any man touching me.

I intend to never fucking ever willingly touch anyone again, and if someone tries, I will fight them until my last breath.

“No lo toques.” My father orders him not to touch me, and I blink in surprise at him noticing my discomfort. Maybe that’s why he never made a move to embrace me?

That or my father just hates me, which would explain why he abandoned me. When the police called him, he probably had no choice but to show up.

A single tear falls down Harold’s cheek, and he quickly wipes it away, nodding at my father. “Yes, sir.”

Father walks toward the door, and I trail after him, still unused to moving this freely without any chains or a guard breathing down my back.

The minute we step inside, my jaw about hits the floor at how luxurious it all is, from gold marble to statues and even several paintings.

Everything glistens, and I see a woman in the distance polishing the railing on the stairs until it shines.

And all this house… will be mine now?

Earlier uneasiness comes back, making me feel like an imposter and that someone will come any minute now and tell me it’s all a joke.

How can trash all of a sudden transform into a prince?

My father removes his coat, and Harold takes it and then extends his hand to me, waiting for mine, but I shake my head, needing this warmth to protect me.

And the fear still rides me hard.

What if my father decides to kick me out on the street, tells me to take a hike?

The coat will be useful in the cold weather because judging by the falling leaves we are in the middle of autumn.

Heavy footsteps echoing through the space pulls my gaze to the stairs where slowly a tall, old man strolls down. He wears a white shirt, vest, and gray pants, and his black-with-traces-of-gray hair are combed back.

Deep wrinkles mar his face, and a huge ring rests on his finger. His penetrating brown eyes, just like mine, study me from head to toe.

And whatever he sees there doesn’t impress him much as he dismisses me with a snarl and focuses his gaze on my father. “Juan, you brought him here?”

“Father.” My brows lift when I realize that’s my grandfather, and my head starts to spin because somehow after discovering I have a dad, I didn’t even think about the possibility of having a larger family. “Of course I did. I still live here.” He points at me with his chin. “Where I go, Lucian goes.”

Well, that soothes some of the nervousness eating at me and loosens my hold on my coat.

Grandfather huffs, then comes down a few more stairs before stopping on the last one and dropping his voice a few octaves, sending chills down my spine.

Two things become clear to me.

He doesn’t like my presence in his house.

And he isn’t used to anyone ignoring his orders.

“He’s thirteen. Does he know how to read, write?” My father grits his teeth because he doesn’t know the answer to this question, and that’s when the old guy turns his orbs on me. “Respóndeme!”

Clasping my hands behind my back, I dig my nails into my skin to keep my voice even, despite the fury sliding into my veins, urging me to shout at the guy to shove his orders.

Life has taught me to be careful with those who are stronger than you, though. I might have survived James’s ordeal, but my body is too weak to engage in another fight. “No.”

Read and write?

I almost bark a laugh at this.

Who would have bothered taking the time to teach me? I can barely count properly, and the only reason I even know any fancy words is because all those fuckers uttered them a lot so I had to learn.

Grandfather chuckles and addresses his son this time. “And you expect me to announce this tramp as our heir?” He shakes his head. “Estás loco!”

A tramp.

Almost the same as telling me I’m a dog on a leash.

My composure can only last for so long, and I open my mouth, ready to defend myself, bracing my insides for a possible blow when my father takes a step forward and points his finger at Grandfather.

Shocking me to my core since no one ever came to my defense in all my life, and all I can do is just gape at them both.

Even though his voice stays even, I don’t miss the steel and warning coating his tone as he speaks very slowly. “Careful, Father. He’s my son. A Cortez by his birthright. You will treat him as such. Or—”

“Or what?”

“Or you will not like the consequences.” They face off at one another, almost identical in their height and the waves of power rolling off them, while the air around us electrifies with tension.

Harold’s gaze ping-pongs between them as he tugs on his cravat, worriedly biting on his lower lip.

“He cannot be introduced to society. It will take him years to learn the business. You want to claim him? Do it.” Grandfather snaps his fingers. “But you will marry and give me a proper heir!”

Why do they keep repeating this word heir as if they have a kingdom where they would announce me as a prince like in fairy tales?

Society?

“I will not do such a thing. And you know very well why.” If possible, more tension surrounds us all, red stains marring my grandfather’s cheeks while he practically vibrates with anger. “It’s either Lucian or be ready to watch your empire crumble.”

Grandfather spits on the floor. “It all comes back to her, doesn’t it? Always about her!” He runs his fingers over his hair. “Your payback.”

A blank expression covers my father’s face at this, and he places his hand on my shoulder, pushing me toward the stairs, and barking at Harold, “Take him to his room. Make sure he is fed. From now on he is your responsibility.” Harold freezes, blinking rapidly. “If anything happens to my son, you’re a dead man, Harold.”

“Sí, señor.”

“Este bastardo no se quedará en mi casa!”

This bastard will not stay at my house.

Well, I can’t really argue this point, can I?

“Este bastardo es mi hijo, papá. Mine and Camille’s. Call him that one more time, and we will leave.” The old man’s jaw twitches while he breathes heavily, and oddly enough, pleasure reflects on my father’s gaze as if he enjoys upsetting his father so much. “Lucian, go upstairs,” he orders and holds my gaze for a second. Gentleness flashes in his gray orbs before he motions with his chin toward Harold. “We’ll talk later.”

Having no other choice, I trail over to Harold, still hearing my grandfather and father arguing in hushed whispers, although farther and farther from me, since we go upstairs, deep into the hallway to the right side.

When we enter my room, I just stand numbly, staring at it, because it’s so big I couldn’t ever imagine having this all to myself.

All while Harold assures me that from now on everything will be different, and I should never worry, just tell him whatever I need, and he’ll get it for me.

This is how my life divided into the before and after.

Before, I had been Javier, an orphan on the street who got unlucky and ended up in hell.

After I’ve become Lucian Javier Cortez. An heir to the throne.

Funny thing about it all?

No matter if you are an orphan or an heir… the pain you experience hurts you all the same.

Just the magnitude of these emotions is different.

Esmeralda

Taking a deep breath, I twirl around in front of the mirror while the light streaming from the ceiling along with the moonlight slipping through the window make my dress glow.

The silky, strapless, white gown plasters against my body, hugging it tight and pushing my breasts up, giving them a bigger boost than they deserve. The deep V on my back reaches my lower spine, bringing attention to my flawless skin, or so Jaqueline claimed with the note attached to the dress.

Apparently, Harold called her in haste and asked her to pick the dress that would be perfect for me, and in an hour, it was delivered to us.

It cascades down my form to my silver stilettos that are oddly comfortable, and they finish the composition perfectly.

However, the most vivid parts about the dress are the various colors splashed on it, transforming the white silk into an artistic pallet that urges a person to touch the material and dip their fingers in the paint that isn’t real.

Combined with my lilac hair clipped up from both sides leaving the heavy locks falling free down my back and my fingers smeared in a little bit of pink, since I painted outside trying out the studio Lucian built for me, I seem as wild and weird as always.

Except in a few minutes, I’m supposed to greet all these guests who came here to congratulate me on my marriage, and somehow the idea of them finding me lacking compared to my husband unsettles me.

“You look gorgeous, mi amor.” A deep voice speaks from behind me, right before his strong arms circle my waist and connects my back with his hard chest. “Good enough to eat.” His lips skim over my neck, traveling to my shoulder, where he bites a little before flicking his tongue over it and sending heat through my system. “This dress suits you.”

“Because I’m weird?” I’ve never wanted to fit the mold my grandmother craved to put me in, but I don’t want anyone questioning Lucian marrying me.

Which is so idiotic in itself, as I have bigger problems to worry about, like his lack of desire to share his past with me.

After our little tryst in the office, he invited me to explore Chicago, which we did, and I’ve started to fall in love with this magnificent city that has so much to offer.

The sidewalks, the parks, the museums, and the energy floating in the air made me feel right at home, and I had this deep need to discover all the things it had to offer.

New York will always have a special place in my heart. It’s my hometown after all, but I think I don’t really mind living in Chicago anymore.

My heart was so full and the nature around me inspired me so much my hand itched to paint, and that’s when Lucian showed me his surprise.

My finished studio outside with all the things I might need, so I spent days holed up in there before he arrived and dragged me to our bed, where he did wicked things to me.

Despite knowing that he kills those who deserve it, the idea of him hurting in the past and refusing to shine a light on the issue still bothers me.

I don’t want to spend my life in secret, but then again… I haven’t shared mine with him either.

Is it fair for me to demand something from him, while giving nothing in return?

His laughter pulls me back to the present, his splayed palm on my stomach, running up and down, causes goose bumps on my skin, and a gasp escapes me. “Unique.” His hand traps my left one, and he brings it up, catching my gaze in the mirror as he kisses my rings. “And all mine.” Satisfaction rings in his voice, and a smile shapes my mouth, so I spin and lock my hands around his neck.

“No one is fighting over your claim.”

His grip on me tightens, and he pulls me even closer, our lips inches apart as he whispers, “Whoever tries is a dead man.” The harshness in which he says these words leaves me no doubt that’s what he’ll do.

And my insides react to it, rushing thrills through me and filling every cell in my body. “You’re crazy.”

“For you? Oh yes.”

He connects our mouths, pushing his tongue through my lips ready to deliver his scorching-hot kiss again when the door bursts open, banging against the wall, and a female voice belonging to my friend speaks up. “Break it up, lovebirds!” We swing our heads at the same time to see Lila standing in the doorjamb, her arms crossed, wearing a long purple dress while her high heels tap on the marble. “You two have some explaining to do.” She frowns, and by how icy-cold her tone is, I know she didn’t appreciate not coming to the wedding.

Eugene hovers behind her, wearing a gray suit, and his eyes laugh through his glasses as he salutes Lucian. “Amigo.”

“Your wife is cockblocking me right now,” my husband says, stepping away from me, and I roam my gaze over his navy blue suit that emphasizes all his features and only adds to the desire inside me.

Lila huffs. “You have guests downstairs dying to meet you. They wouldn’t shut up about you two ever since you did that engagement announcement.”

“What announcement?” I ask, but they both ignore me, as Lila continues to talk.

“So technically speaking, you cockblocked yourself.” A smug grin curves her mouth. “You reap what you sow.”

Lucian’s brow lifts. “I can greet them whenever I wish. Yet you barged inside my room without an invitation.” A beat, and then he adds, “So you cockblocked me.”

“To be fair, they are getting restless. Even my grandmother showed up, claiming that she had to see with her own eyes a dragon—aka you, in case it wasn’t clear—marrying the poor lamb.” Eugene glances my way. “No offense, darling.”

“None taken.” In light of my discoveries, I’d say it’s quite a fitting description.

“You caused quite an uproar among the ladies too. Some even still cry in a corner at losing their chance to snag you as a husband.” Lila pitches in and the green monster living inside me rears its head, anger filling my blood while my hold on Lucian’s arm tightens, my nails sinking into him.

The idea of any woman wanting my man as her own doesn’t bring out the best in me.

He frees himself from my hold and then palms my head, tilting it back. “Retract the claws, gatita. I’m only yours.” He places a soft kiss on my forehead, wrapping me in the cocoon of protection and warmth, calming my earlier nerves and fears still hiding inside my psyche.

“You make it really hard to still hate you, Lucian,” Lila says, leaning on Eugene who hugs her tight to him. “I might even forgive you for whisking my friend away and getting married in secret.”

“If it helps, it was a surprise for me too.”

She winks at me, and happiness spreads through me at knowing that despite all my moods and behavior, we managed to become friends, even if most times I suck at it.

“I couldn’t wait years like your man.” Eugene growls at Lucian, and he grins. “Your patience astonishes me, amigo.”

Lila pats his hands on her waist. “My man is very special.” He kisses her on the neck and suddenly a thought crosses my mind at how lovely they are together, and how well put together her husband always is.

Calm, reserved, polite, and gentle.

However, he has been friends with Lucian all this time.

Does he know about his deeds?

And then something else crosses my mind.

How a few years ago, Lila had a thing, and then it took them years to get hitched, and my eyes widen at the realization that Eugene might be… just like Lucian?

And since Lila tried to stop me from falling for him, she must know about it too and accept their way of life.

God, a person might be friends with people and know shit about them. However, before confronting my friend, I’ll speak with Lucian later.

My husband laces our fingers together, pulls me toward the door, and announces to us all, “It’s show time.” He exchanges a look with Eugene, and I notice his subtle nod at him as if they agreed on something.

I don’t have time to dwell on it or ask any questions as he strolls to the hallway, where we quickly walk down the stairs, and within a minute, we’re standing by the entrance to the room.

It seems like hundreds of people are gathered here tonight, as servers wearing black uniforms move flawlessly through the crowd, offering a variety of drinks to the people who either are engaged in deep conversations or admiring the decor around them, including the expensive statues and paintings.

The men wear dashing suits, sip whiskey, and smoke expensive cigars, and they straighten at once when noticing Lucian. The women have a whole fashion-show collection for us all to admire while their diamonds glisten in the light, bringing attention to their wealth.

The scent of roses mixed with lavender and orchids floats in the air as various flower compositions surround the room, almost begging you to touch the soft petals. While the smells coming from the dining room tempts you to follow them and indulge in all the delicious treats Ricardo has prepared.

The terrace door is wide open, allowing a light breeze to flow inside, and I see several people going out, probably to admire the nonexistent garden.

A stage several feet away has musicians playing their instruments, the slow classical tune creating an aura of peacefulness and luxury that can draw you in, if you let it. Several tables are scattered around the room, offering snacks to munch on so all the alcohol won’t go to their heads.

“Harold really outdid himself,” I whisper, and Lucian’s chest vibrates with laugher.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.” He leans closer to whisper into my ear, “He considers you the beauty who broke the beast’s curse.”

I blink innocently at him. “I thought you were the villain who slayed the dragon and killed the prince?”

“He believes we live in a different kind of fairytale.”

My mouth opens to reply when I sense complete stillness around us and notice how everyone stares at us in surprise and interest.

My cheeks heat up, and I press closer to Lucian who wraps his arm around my waist and snaps his fingers to the passing server.

At once, he is at our side, holding two champagne glasses for us.

“Welcome everyone,” Lucian speaks up. “Thank you for coming tonight.” He glances at me. “My wife and I are thrilled to celebrate this important event with you all.” His knuckles graze my cheek, and I focus on him, momentarily forgetting about the world around us. “They say the right person shows up in your life when you least expect it.” Although a lazy smile widens his mouth, I don’t miss his cold voice and very calculative stare as he addresses the crowd. “I never believed it until my eyes landed on this beauty in my arms.”

A loud cheering whistle echoes through the room, and I spot Jacob in the distance winking at me, dashingly handsome as always in his suit and blond hair that falls over his shoulders. He raises his whiskey glass at my husband who returns the gesture, and for the first time, I wonder what kind of friendship bonds these two?

I groan inwardly in frustration.

Any second now, I will start being suspicious of every friend Lucian has and wonder if he is a murderer in disguise.

This is what happens when a husband doesn’t share!

“To my wife.” Everyone lifts their glasses as Lucian kisses me hard, my champagne spilling a little on the floor while he delivers his passionate kiss.

Gripping his shirt, I pull back, gulping for breath while the music resumes and the chatting of the crowd begins once again. “What are you doing?” I whisper, shocked by his public display of affection. During such get-togethers, it’s strictly frowned upon.

Tomorrow, everyone will talk about this kiss, but maybe that was his intention all along?

“Showing everyone who you belong to,” he says, biting on my lip and then straightening us up.

However, a certain note laces his words, which makes me question his motives.

“Lucian,” someone calls, and I see a middle-aged man heading toward us dragging a young woman with him.

“Kenneth,” he greets him back, and the name rings a bell in my head from scanning the guest list that Harold placed on the table during breakfast so I wouldn’t be lost.

Kenneth Reed.

An oil magnate who recently got married to his assistant, and rumor has it he fought for her hand with his own nephew.

His wedding caused quite the uproar in their family.

“Surprised to see you here.” His eyes momentarily land on the woman who smiles shyly at us. “Weren’t you on your honeymoon?”

“We had some things to do in Chicago, and I wouldn’t miss this party. I never thought I’d see the day when someone would tame the beast.”

Huffing in exasperation, I ask, “Is that what they are all saying?”

The woman nods. “Oh, yes. Well, that and the possibility of you being pregnant and trapping Lucian in this marriage.” She gasps and covers her mouth with her palm. “Oh my God. I’m so sorry.”

Kenneth just shakes his head at his wife and throws his arm over her shoulders, hugging her, and I see adoration written all over his face. No matter what anyone says, this is clearly a love match. “Forgive my wife for her bluntness. She is not used to bullshitting and talking about the weather while conversing during these gatherings.”

“Kenneth,” she hisses at him while sending an apologetic glance my way.

He shrugs and shifts his attention to Lucian. “Could we please talk about your recent merger?”

Lucian’s brows furrow, and his body tenses. “How do you know about that?”

“That’s why we need to talk.”

They watch each other for one long beat before he tells me, “Mi amor, I need a minute.” He gives me one last kiss on the forehead and then strides off in the direction to his office along with Kenneth, leaving me standing with his wife.

“I really apologize for that,” she whispers and then clears her throat. “With Kenneth, it’s all about business.” She extends her hand. “My name is Pamela.”

“Nice to meet you. I think it’s me who should apologize for interrupting your honeymoon.”

Her hollow laughter rocks between us. “It was over long before the invitation arrived.” Bitterness dances on the edges of her tone, and she twists her hand, exhaling heavily, and I don’t really know what to say.

This is why I avoid all these social gatherings; conversations require actions, but I don’t really know how to comfort her.

Honesty always has been considered one of my virtues. However, I doubt she needs to hear how she should have thought about his workaholic tendencies before she said yes.

Lila appears in this moment, hooking her arm through mine, and I sigh in relief. “Hello, ladies.” She winks at Pamela. “You look lovely, darling.” Compared to me, Lila has had to go to various events due to Eugene’s work, even though she detests it.

“Thank you. If you’ll excuse me, please.” Pamela darts somewhere, wiping her cheeks on the way, and barely misses the waiter who holds a heavy tray.

“If he doesn’t die soon, this marriage is gonna end in divorce,” Lila says, and I nudge her a little. “What? She shouldn’t have married him. If you wanna know my opin—”

“I think I’m going to hear it regardless.”

“That nephew of his just waits to sweep in as Prince Charming. So, either he will marry his uncle’s widow or his ex-wife.”

Well, judging by her reaction, I wouldn’t be surprised either. “Lila, you’re turning us into gossipers.”

“Forget about the Reeds, then. You married my arch enemy two days ago. Are you happy?”

I chuckle at this, placing my champagne glass on the table nearby, and grab a bottle of water, flicking the lid open. “Arch enemy? I thought you started to like him.” Taking a few sips, I welcome the cooling sensation spreading through me and bringing relief to my heated body.

“I said hard to hate not impossible.” She asks her next question, “Are you all right?” The bottle pauses midway to my mouth at this, and I lift my brow. “You married because you wanted to? Not because he ordered you to?” Worry flashes in her eyes, and her jaw clenches in anticipation of my reply.

“Of course.” Then I ask, “But if he made me marry him, then what would you do?”

“I’d cut his balls off.” At my laughter, she slaps my arm. “Okay, Eugene would have done that.”

“It’s adorable you think so.” This comment alone proves to me that Eugene knows more than he shows to the world about my husband. But I won’t be raising this subject to her just now, but someday… someday I would appreciate being able to talk to my friend about his inclinations that still unsettle me.

In every problem, it’s important not to be isolated in it; otherwise, you might drown in it instead of emerging stronger from the experience. “I wanted to discuss something with you actually.”

Lila snags a strawberry from the plate and bites it. “Go ahead.”

“We’ll be moving to Chicago.” She frowns, munching on the berry, so I continue, “The idea of leaving my two galleries unsupervised though makes me break out in a cold sweat. You know me, perfectionism is my everything.”

Sadness settles on her features as she swallows and whispers, “Oh, no. You want to close them?”

“No!” I exclaim and see several people turning their heads toward us and mouth, “Sorry,’’ to them all while they go back to their conversations. I’m still surprised no one has come to me to chat. Did the invitations include instructions on how to act toward me? “I was wondering if you’d like to be the manager.” She blinks in surprise. “I know you don’t need the money obviously. But you loved working there as an artist, so I thought—” The rest of my sentence turns into a huff when she hugs me closer, squeezing me so tight my ribs hurt.

“Yes, yes, yes!” She leans back and grins at me, her green eyes sparkling. “I mean I love you, but yes to this opportunity.”

Relief washes over me at her answer, and I wave the bottle between us. “Awesome. How long are you staying here?”

“We’re heading back tomorrow night. I’ll come over in the morning before our flight, and we can discuss details.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I say just as a shadow falls on us, and a husky voice speaks up.

“Two beautiful ladies all alone.” He clacks his tongue. “Your husbands are insensitive bastards.”

“If you want to find out how much, repeat this sentence once they’re back,” Lila replies sweetly, and Jacob bursts out laughing, sipping his whiskey. “What are you doing here?”

“I personally want to congratulate you, Esmeralda.” He picks up my hand and lifts it to his lips, pressing a kiss there and bowing slightly. “Since you haven’t fallen for my charms, losing to Lucian at least leaves me with dignity,” he exclaims dramatically. “You broke my heart and then stomped on it.”

Rolling my eyes, I snatch my hand away from him. “It couldn’t have been that broken since I’ve seen you parading women one after another in New York.” Jacob was born and raised here, but for some reason he detests Chicago and spends the majority of his time in other cities.

“A single man has to take his opportunities when he can, darling.” Amusement dances in his orbs, which only brings attention to his handsomeness and explains all the female attention.

Maybe that’s why the males in the Price family are not known for their fidelity.

“You won’t be single for long,” Lila chirps, snagging another strawberry and popping it in her mouth. “Wedding bells are in your near future.”

His mood sours at that reminder, and he quickly finishes his glass, snapping his fingers at the passing waiter, who silently understands the order. “That fucking engagement won’t be happening.”

Perching on the table, I poke him some more. “The families agreed.”

Lila nods. “And the Price family always honors their agreements.”

“I’m not marrying a sheltered little girl so Dad can get his grandchild.” Anger swirls around him, settling a darkness over us while the empty glass in his palm cracks at how hard he clenches it. His entire body vibrates with tension, and the veins on his neck strain.

Lila and I exchange a worried glance, as we’ve never seen Jacob anything but cheerful and joyful.

Being carefree is one of his signature moves.

Then why is he so unsettled right now?

Uneasiness rushes through me. I shift to the side closer to Lila who clears her throat and continues this conversation, although I think we should tread in safer waters.

“She’s a nice girl. And beautiful too.” Lila winks at me while I shake my head. Why is she encouraging him?

Although I wholeheartedly agree. Besides, what’s with all these arranged marriages? Choose your own freaking partner!

He snatches a glass from the server passing us and gulps it greedily before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Precisely why I won’t marry her. She deserves better. Trust me, males in my family always ruin the one they marry. It’s our most absolute law.” We stay silent because facts speak for themselves.

Their wives indeed suffer a lot, and despite their fortune, they were never considered eligible bachelors.

What did my grandmother once tell me?

The Price men are great for a good time and disastrous for anything else.

He finishes another glass, puts it on the table, and plasters on that smile of his that showcases his teeth and charms all the ladies.

“We can break free from the chains our family puts on us, you know?” Lila prompts, patting his arm. “Love does wonders for a person.”

He smirks, clearly disagreeing with her statement. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Lila opens her mouth, probably to argue about it, when I see people separating, making room for a newly arrived person with a tapping cane hitting the marble.

Slowly my grandmother comes into view, wearing her usual black suit consisting of a jacket and skirt while black shoes cover her feet.

The pearls hanging on her neck glimmer in the light while the majestic presence with which she carries herself makes several people just stare at her.

Some older gentlemen even sweep their gazes over her in appreciation because despite being in her eighties and wrinkles marring her skin, Grandmother is still very beautiful.

“Oh shit,” Jacob mutters and then drops his voice to a whisper. “Give us a sign if you need to be rescued.” He offers his elbow to Lila. “Care to spend some wild time with me until the husband dearest shows up?”

“If you don’t mind your face smashed,” Lila replies, and he chuckles, finding it funny, although she is dead serious.

Eugene does not care for other men touching his woman in a friendly or other manner.

She gives me a kiss on the cheek and then waves at some woman several feet away. “She’s one of the most generous sponsors. I’m gonna go. Find me once this”—she motions to my rapidly approaching grandmother—“is over.” She waltzes off toward the woman while Jacob blows me a kiss and heads somewhere as well, just as my grandmother reaches me.

“Grandmother,” I greet her as she stares me down, and her eyes linger on my dress before she looks me in the eyes again. “What a surprise to see you here.”

“Had it been a surprise, as you so eloquently put it, you’d run in the other direction.” Her icy tone glides over me, and I resist the urge to rub my arms. “Is this how a grandmother finds out about her granddaughter’s wedding? Through an invitation?”

To my astonishment, I detect hurt in her voice, which brings up my anger.

“If you wanted to be part of my life, Grandmother, then maybe you shouldn’t have hit me.”

Her cheeks heat, and she grips the cane harder, leaning on it. “I only did it a few times. I don’t deserve being cut off from your life for this.”

Several people swing their heads around at our raised voices. Widening my mouth in a fake smile that hurts my face, I grab her elbow and drag her to the terrace, away from prying gazes.

Since confrontation with my grandmother is unavoidable at this point, I prefer to do it in privacy.

Once we are outside, I walk farther to the right toward the rose bushes, and my grandmother breathes heavily, clearly not used to such a quick pace, so spotting a bench, I help her sit down. “I’m too old for such excitement.” A wistful expression flashes on her face. “Although during my youth, I spent a lot of time in such gardens.”

Judging by the tone, it’s not hard to guess what she did in there.

“It wasn’t only about you hitting me. It’s the treatment, the harsh words, all those stupid functions I never wanted to attend. Just so you could brag about my victories that always cost me peace and caused me pain because perfection was what you demanded.” Her jaw tics, but she says nothing, letting me speak. “But more importantly the constant insults to my parents. Did you really expect me to stay by your side after all this and call you once I got married?”

With a huff I drop next to her, relief slamming into me because I’ve finally told her what was on my mind for so long.

Why do parents and grandparents alike think they can hurt their children and then come back to them as if nothing happened?

The scars they leave behind always live in our souls, and to cure them, it takes time and effort they refuse to give us, in most cases.

“I raised you the way my parents taught me. The way I raised my two children.” Her lips wobble on the last part, her hand trembling a little as she swings her cane from side to side. “Discipline.”

Since we’re being honest here, I cannot spare her feelings. “Losing both of your children because of that didn’t clue you in that maybe you needed to change tactics?”

She swallows harshly, looking into the distance and nodding as the breeze whooshes over her, rustling her gray hair. “Carrying such a powerful name gives you certain responsibilities. I couldn’t turn my back on them when my children decided to fall in love with someone beneath their station.” She raises her hand before I can protest or point out how once again she puts down my mother. “This is a fact. Not a personal jab at your mother, although God knows the woman was too proud for her own good.”

“When she had to be. You called her trash.” I ponder her earlier words. “Was it worth it, Grandma? Losing your children to keep the status quo?”

A tremor goes through her, and her hold on the cane tightens, her knuckles turning white. “Only I know what it costs me to stay in the position I’m in right now. My children chose their own path, and I respected it. I never used my connections to ruin their lives.” This much is true, she cut them off but never created obstacles for them. I even think, had they come to her and begged for financial aid, she would have helped them. “When the tragedy happened and you came to live with me… you loved to paint.” She smiles, the lines on her cheeks deepening. “You were so engrossed in it and created such beauty on the canvases. Disciplining you in order to make the best of this talent seemed like the best option.”

“Well, it wasn’t.”

“Yes, I know it now. Still, you cannot argue. You became successful.” She turns to me, her eyes glassy with an emotion I can’t name. “So maybe that discipline and a ruined relationship with you was worth it.”

“I would have painted regardless. But if you showed me just a bit of love, all this—” I motion my fingers between us. “—could have been avoided.”

“I’ve lived in this world eighty-eight years, Rebecca.”

“Esmeralda.” Although I still have to use Rebecca wherever I sign legal documents, I correct her because I never liked the name as she gave it to me after my parents died.

She continues, ignoring my correction. “I own my decisions and mistakes. I might die soon.”

I still, grabbing her hand and squeezing it. “Are you sick?” God, is this why she tried to reconcile all this time and even showed up here to have this little heart-to-heart?

Or whatever else she has in that chest of hers that’s made out of granite.

Still though, she might be an old witch, but she’s my old witch, and the idea of her dying upsets me. She’s my only family. I don’t count my aunt as we’ve never met.

She laughs, sliding her hand out of mine and shifting uncomfortably. Grandmother was never a fan of any kind of affection. “No. However, I’d like for you to stop avoiding me.” Despite her forming it as a request, it sounds more like an order, and amusement grows inside me. “And meet with me at least once a month. You can bring that husband of yours too.” She frowns. “Although he is as ruthless as Alejandro, at least his bloodline will give good children. You chose well.” Satisfaction rings in her tone, and she gets up, leaning heavily on her cane before straightening.

I groan inwardly at her discussing my possible children in a breeding manner.

Grandmother will never change, even if she seeks a relationship now that’s more due to her loneliness than anything else.

Old age makes even dragons soft.

“Think about it. That’s all I ask.” She takes a step toward the terrace door but half turns to me while I still sit on the bench. “After your mother died and Evangeline ran off to God knows where, I was the one who cared for you, Rebecca. That should count for something, shouldn’t it?” With this she walks off, leaving me alone in the garden while hurt envelops my heart, opening the old wounds that still bleed.

Evangeline.

My sister promised to visit me every month, only to disappear without a trace a year later because she wanted to be free of all these responsibilities.

Or at least that’s what her letter said.

Grandmother showed it to me when I refused to believe her, and even seeing it with my own eyes didn’t convince me.

I called her apartment where no one picked up.

I tried searching for her man, but she just called him my prince, and Grandmother never got to meet him anyway.

After a year, I had to accept her decision even if resentment built inside me at her abandonment.

The pain she forever inserted in my soul hurt so much I decided to never search for her again, but sometimes I wonder if her new life was worth severing all ties with me.

Hopefully it was.

A tear slides down my cheek, and wiping it away, I jump up, needing with every fiber of my being to find my husband to soothe the cold chaos spreading in my veins.

For in this world, only he has never hurt me or let me go even when I begged him to. Instead his strong arms have embraced me, protecting me from outside forces.

Maybe destiny knows better, and that was what I needed all along.

A villain whose obsession will never leave a wound in my heart, for his darkness will keep me trapped in his castle.

Lucian

Kenneth flips the pen between his fingers as I look through the report he dropped on my table, showing me various transactions to different companies with large amounts of money.

And each of these transactions has my name on it.

Except I’ve never sent this money to these small firms that would never even have been on my radar.

“When I heard about your recent merger with Eugene on the oil company you guys bought in Texas, I figured all this was either a scam or a mistake. Why waste time in all these smaller ones if you’ve already worked with the biggest fish in the market?” He taps on the folder with the pen. “Then I did some research, and you’ll be surprised what I found.”

“All fake?” I ask, and his eyes widen in surprise at my guess. “Someone used my name to do criminal transactions, so the cops won’t be tailing them.”

“Yes.”

Leaning back in my chair, I study the large sums and anger spreads through me, as the fucker received all these payments from sick fucks who are willing to pay anything as long as their sadistic desires are met.

However, I screwed a few of his loose ends and threatened his last location, getting there before he could harm all these children he promised, which means that his time is running out.

Unsatisfied customers of such a high caliber have their own means to punish the seller who fails to deliver on their promises.

That would fuel his anger more, and since all these transactions happened weeks ago, his rage must have reached epic proportions, and he seeks revenge.

A revenge he can get only by killing me.

And how can he kill me?

By using my wife as bait.

Nothing new really, except that it shows his cockiness and some personal vendetta against me if he used my name.

Because should this go south, I can be framed for all the shit he does… at least in his mind.

Closing the folder, I grab it and extend it to Kenneth, who takes it. “Show it to your lawyer and let him contact mine. We’ll inform the police about it and make sure my name stays clear from any future accusations.”

“I do apologize for bringing it up during your wedding celebration, but business is business,” he says.

Pamela must have really played her cards right if she managed to marry him, because Kenneth lives for one thing only.

His empire.

“Thank you for coming tonight. I really appreciate it.” I wasn’t born yesterday, so I fire a question. “What can I do for you?”

No way in fuck he would have shown me all this and not expect something in return.

We respect each other, but were never close friends, maybe because he is around twenty years older than me so our paths never crossed much; therefore, he must have an agenda.

I grip my whiskey glass, taking a sip, only to choke on it when he says, “My nephew wants to kill me.” He flips the pen again. “Sooner or later, he will succeed. I hope for later though.” His hollow chuckle echoes through the space. “When I die, fifty-one percent of my shares by default would go to him.”

“Not Pamela?” Unless they have a prenup, shouldn’t she have control of the shares?

He shakes his head. “It’s a long-standing rule in our family that an heir gets it all. After my brother died, it’s just me and his son. Besides, he will marry my wife the minute the mourning period is over. Mark my words.” Damn, these Reeds make even my family seem normal. At least we don’t go against our own.

“Do you need protection?”

He shakes his head and puts the pen inside his pocket, picking up the folder. “No. The outcome is unavoidable. Trust me, he’ll plan it in such a way even the most suspicious of cops won’t doubt it’s an accident.”

I say nothing, because the nephew never gave me vicious vibes, but then again, I never paid much attention.

Other monsters have occupied my mind.

“So why do you need my help?” I glance at the clock, hating how I’ve already wasted more time on it than I anticipated as my wife must be alone out there.

Pleasure washes over me at the thought of my blue-eyed beauty who loves me despite all my flaws, and the need to find her becomes so strong I barely hold back from telling Kenneth to fuck off with his imaginary problem and stalk my wife, pushing her against the nearest wall to kiss her until our mouths hurt.

Just so I can check one more time that she’s real.

Kenneth’s voice pulls me back to the conversation. “If my wife gets pregnant or we have a child before he manages to kill me, my shares will belong to him or her.” My brows furrow at this, still not understanding what exactly he has in mind. “Usually, a wife would act as power of attorney over the shares until the child becomes twenty-one.”

“Yes, a standard practice.” Checking the time again, I lose my patience and snap, “Kenneth, get to the fucking point, because my wife is waiting for me.”

“I want to write a will and give you the power of attorney over my shares should my child inherit them.” What the fuck? “You will be heavily involved in the decision-making, but I trust your judgment when it comes to business.”

Huffing in disbelief, I spit, “Have you lost your mind?” No one in their right mind gives such power over their family business to someone else. Fifty-one percent would give me the upper hand in all things, not to mention the burden of caring for his empire while I have my own to run.

“On the contrary, my mind thinks clearly, and what I see in the future for my child scares me.” I pause at this, letting him explain his warped logic. “Pamela is weak. She’ll go with whatever Wayne suggests.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have married her.”

He doesn’t even listen to my jab. “He’ll rule it in a way that benefits only him.”

“He has perfect business ethic, and everyone praises his ideas. Are you afraid for your empire?”

“No, for my child! He will hate any child of mine as much as he hates me.” What kind of fucked-up shit happened in their life that a man has to be afraid of his own nephew? “He will find a way to take the shares away from my kid. And I will not allow this to happen. If I have a child, he or she will have their birthright.” He grips the chair’s arms tight. “I can’t protect him or her from Oliver, but I can protect their birthright.” A beat passes with only the wooden clock ticking and disturbing the silence around us.

“You give me an enormous amount of power that should never be in anyone’s hands but family. Do you understand the magnitude of your request? I’ll have to be in an endless war with the Reeds, which threatens my businesses. Not to mention when or if you die, people might think it was my doing.” His favor isn’t worth taking all this shit for his nonexistent kid. “My answer is no.” I get up so swiftly my chair almost falls on the floor. “While we are at it, maybe you need your head examined, as delusions rule it.”

Kenneth rises from his seat as well, splaying his hands on the table and meeting my stare head-on. For the first time I see his ironclad resolve flashing back at me. “Of all people, do you know why I chose you?” He doesn’t wait for my reply. “Because I know I can trust you when it comes to this. A man who lived on the streets and starved, relying on the mercy of strangers, denied his birthright, would never allow for any kid to suffer. He’d protect him from such an existence.”

Fury sinks into my bones, burning me from the inside out, and my voice drops a few octaves. “Careful, Kenneth. Very careful.” I have no idea how he found out about my past, but he better shut his fucking mouth.

No one gets to talk to me about it.

No one.

Especially not all these guys who grew up with silver spoons in their mouths and never knew nightmares.

A knock sounds on the door, and Eugene walks in, assessing the situation. He must detect the tension in the air, as he says, “Everyone is looking for the groom. I think Harold dragged out the big-ass cake that everyone wants a bite of before the main course.”

Kenneth pushes off the desk, picks up the folder that fell on the floor, and says, calmly this time. “Think about it, please. I’ll expect your answer within the week. Please, Lucian.” He nods at Eugene and disappears behind the door while I tangle my fingers in my hair, silently roaring.

Because he put me in an impossible situation.

How can I refuse now?

But it will create so many problems, and I already have enough enemies to last me a lifetime.

“What was that all about?” Eugene asks, and I shake my head, moving toward the door myself. “Kenneth Reed saying please almost makes me believe in miracles.”

“I have no time for your sarcasm right now.”

He slaps me on the shoulder. “Relax. That being said, your wife currently is talking to Jacob who makes her and Lila laugh.” He snarls the last part while possessiveness washes over me.

The monster in me steps into the hallway, ready to stake a claim on my woman so no male in the vicinity would even think of dreaming about her, let alone enjoy her company. “My sentiments exactly.”

We quickly pass through the hallway, and I see my wife standing in the circle of her friends, tilting her head back and laughing—too close to that charming fucker who might be my friend, but right now, I want to kill him.

But then I stop abruptly, drinking in the sheer joy surrounding my wife. Her dress showcases all her beauty, reminding me how her delectable body feels under mine.

Her soft curves mold perfectly against my muscles, and the way her long legs wrap so tight around me, squeezing me so hard it seems she won’t ever let me go.

A woman who agreed to be mine, despite not knowing my past.

My good-for-nothing heart pangs painfully, beating wildly at the magnificent sight that’s my woman while everything inside me urges me to wrap my arms around her so no one will hurt her.

She’s the light in my darkness that temporarily soothes the demons living in it.

“You never get used to that emotion,” Eugene says next to me, probably watching his own wife as I still glue my stare on mine. “It consumes you and brings up the goodness and the evilness within you.”

“Because the obsession is so strong you’ll never let her leave, even if she begs,” I finish for him.

“We fear what we don’t understand. They want to leave when the monsters refuse to let them peek into their past.”

“Our past is hideous. It should never touch them.” One of the reasons I refuse to tell her all the details.

Would she be disgusted? Scared? Traumatized?

Would she care what happened to me?

Would it matter so much she might want to escape?

We have a fragile bubble around us now where the outside world, right and wrong, doesn’t exist. My past though might burst that bubble.

“Our past holds the keys to their trust. Without it, the relationship will fail sooner or later. You know it.” He slaps me on the shoulder again and then pushes toward my wife who finally notices me, her entire face brightening, and she moves to me, almost running. “Stop being the coward we hate so much and be fucking brave, amigo. You might be surprised what you find once you take the plunge.”

A few more steps and my arm circles her waist, pulling her close to me, and my hand laces in her hair, diving in for a deep, passionate kiss that makes several people around us gasp, but who gives a shit?

Her tongue entwines with mine, meeting me stroke for stroke while the desire within me grows, and by the moan slipping from her that I swallow, I know she feels it too.

But then another sensation pierces through my heaven, making my skin prickle and the hair on the back of my neck stand. The hunter in me awakens quickly; my eyes snap open, and my vision sharpens.

I tear my lips away from her. Everyone erupts in applause as Harold invites us to cut the cake while giving me a kitchen knife.

And when my palm grips its handle, I wish I could stab the fucker who showed up here to harm my wife.

For the murderer lurks in the corner watching us both, waiting for the perfect time to strike, while anger at our relationship consumes him.

This I have no doubt, as my instincts have never failed me.