Lucian

Chapter 1

LUCIAN

For the third time in an hour, I looked up from the report, pretending the dry facts were to blame and not the hope of seeing Aspen walk through the door.

I should have stayed at the office, but as the minutes had ticked by, the collar of my shirt grew tighter until I had to remove my tie.

Yet, I struggled to sit still, eyeing the clock in anticipation of the day’s end.

By two, I gave up and headed home, promising Vic, my right-hand man, that I’d take the reports he’d collected and go over them.

When he quirked his brow, unused to me leaving early, I’d explained it away as needing a change of scenery, unwilling to admit that I was heading home so I could be here when Aspen arrived.

I didn’t want to sound like I was eager to welcome her home like some loving husband—because I wasn’t.

Despite having dreamed of that life before Emily doused me with a bucket of cold reality, I didn’t crave that kind of na?ve domesticity anymore, like I had growing up.

No, if anything, I wanted to be here when she arrived to ensure she returned—and stayed.

Not just to collect her belongings and walk out.

After our argument the night before, doubts plagued me.

Remembering the way I threatened to ruin her father’s retirement and steal the entire company from her if she didn’t follow through with our agreement that she would marry me to help fulfill the promise to my dying godfather.

In return, I’d ensure she was able to obtain the five percent of Quinn Music Group, giving her majority control of her family company.

The threat only served to add a pinch of guilt I couldn’t ignore.

Her father wouldn’t be back from his trip until later this week, but the anticipation of waiting for her to tell him—to make him believe our story—left me on edge.

In the end, being there when she got home was for the best. To ensure our interests still aligned.

Not because I used to be a foolish man who dreamed of being the type of husband who greeted his wife at the door when he could.

That man died fifteen years ago, taking the hope for an idyllic life with him.

I looked back at the report, confident in my reasoning for coming home early.

Then, the click of the deadbolt sliding open hammered against my chest, leaving a crack with enough room for warmth to bloom behind it. My heart beat faster with each sound of her arrival.

The slam of the door falling shut.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

The jingle of her keys being placed on the entryway table.

Thump-thump, thump-thump.

The slip of her jacket from her arms.

Thumpthump, thumpthump.

The delicate tapping steps growing closer.

Thumpthump-thumpthump-thumpthump.

Until, finally, she appeared.

Her dark hair fell over her face as she looked into the large tote bag slung over her forearm.

She pushed it behind her ears, revealing her full red lip pinned under her teeth and furrowed brows.

I bit back a groan, imagining biting it myself.

She hadn’t noticed me yet, and I took the time to soak her in.

When she placed her bag on the island, she sighed, her shoulders dropping, and I caught a glance of how exhausted she looked.

“Tired, princess?”

Aspen jumped about two feet with a high-pitched scream. Quickly followed by a slew of swear words with interesting combinations that didn’t make sense. “Is today scare-the-shit-out-of-Aspen day?” she exclaimed between gasping breaths.

I tipped my head. “You get scared a lot?”

With one hand on her chest and the other clutching the kitchen island for support, she glowered up at me. “No, I just wasn’t expecting you home this early.”

“I could say the same for you,” I said, ignoring the flood of heat at hearing her call the apartment home.

“I was done at the office and kept getting interrupted. I figured here would at least give me alone time.”

I hummed, giving her a moment to collect herself with a deep breath. “So, how was work?” I asked lightly.

Her lips curled, and brow furrowed. “Why?”

“Can’t a man ask his fiancée about her day?” I shrugged and casually glanced toward her hand, still splayed wide across her chest. “I see you kept your ring on, finally.”

She looked at the sparkling diamond as if she forgot it was there.

“Anyone notice?”

Squeezing her hand into a fist, she dropped it to her side. With another deep breath, her eyes slid closed, and she rolled her head around her neck. When she came back to center, her eyes opened with a very different look. One that set off a warning.

That warning grew to a blaring alarm when her lips tipped into a wicked smirk, and she began closing the distance with measured steps.

“As a matter of fact, someone did,” she said, full of false innocence.

“And who was that?”

Step. Step. Step.

“My dad.”

The air stuttered in my lungs. “I thought he wasn’t coming back until later.”

“Me too. Hence why it was so surprising to find him in my office today.”

“And?”

Step. Step. Step.

“It was an interesting conversation.”

“One that I hope you remembered our conversation last night for,” I managed from my clenched jaw.

Her slow steps turned into a confident strut until she stood in front of where I lounged in the chair she sucked me off in last week.

“Hmm…” She looked up thoughtfully and tapped her chin. “I guess you can say that.”

“How else would you say it?”

She peered down her perfectly straight nose at me and smiled, blinking wide doe eyes, glinting with mirth. “Maybe I should let you show up tomorrow and find out for yourself.”

“Aspen…” I warned.

“That is…if you have an office there anymore.”

Bands of frustration, anger, and hints of defeat wound around my chest, squeezing tighter and tighter. “What did you do?”

She shrugged. “Let’s just say Daddy might not have been as happy with what I said as you might have hoped.”

I couldn’t figure out the truth behind her evasive answers and guileless smile. The longer she dragged her little game out, the more my ire grew. The warmth from before was gone, replaced by a raging fire that demanded answers. “What. Did. You. Say. To. Him?”

Her smile dropped, leaving behind a victorious stare that snapped my control.

“Like I said, I—”

I sat up and snatched her arm, jerking her down on my lap, earning another surprised yelp. One arm banded around her hips while the other pinned her arms to hold her in place. “I’m done playing games, Aspen. Now tell me.”

All at once, she stopped fighting my hold and sighed in disgust before raising her annoyed gaze to mine. “That we’re happily engaged.”

The words fought through coiled muscles and racing adrenaline before they finally sank in and made sense.

Despite the relief they provided, it wasn’t enough to release the tension she’d twisted through me.

“Such a fucking brat. I should bend you over right here,” I started.

But then…another idea struck. I knew the perfect way to burn through the remaining pressure around my chest. Slowly, I leaned in and dragged my nose up her neck to nip at her ear.

“Or better yet. I could make you kneel right here and stuff my cock down this pretty throat until you choke on it. Then have you begging for more.”

She gasped softly, and her eyes slid closed. I held my breath, waiting for her to give in.

“I’d rather not.”

The fantasy of fucking her mouth vanished beneath her bored tone, but I didn’t pull back. Not yet. “I could order you.”

She sat up and muttered the one word guaranteed to make me stop. “Red.”

Immediately, my hands fell to the arms of the chair, and I sat back.

Instead of pulling away as I expected, she remained perched on my legs, folding her hands primly over her lap with a small smile. “Good to know that works.”

Her nonchalance irked the dominant in me. “Of course it works,” I ground out. “It’s not a word I take lightly. So, please don’t use it as a joke.”

She studied me, taking in my pinched brows, and her smile dropped. I kept hold of the arms of the chair and let her look—let her take in my sincerity. “I’m not,” she said finally, dropping her gaze and standing with a heavy sigh.

I missed the heat and weight of her against me. And when she ran her hands through her hair, I struggled not to pull her back and soothe the lines pulling at her forehead.

“I’m tired,” she confessed. “And as easily as you thought the conversation with my father would go, it didn’t. I don’t lie to him, and it feels wrong to do it now. Add in all the final prep for the gala this weekend, and I’m just fucking tired.”

Her shoulders dropped as if the lie and her to-do list were physical weights pulling her down.

Again, I fought the urge to tug her to me, but that wasn’t our relationship.

I offered her relief through release, and she shut down the idea of playing tonight.

Yet, my chest pinched at the thought of sending her off like this.

A sharp pang that came too close to resembling the desire to be more for her—the desire to have a relationship I used to crave.

One where my wife would lean on me. One where I was her anchor, and I would do anything to help her through whatever storm plagued her.

This feeling is not the same as it used to be, I assured myself. It couldn’t be.

It wasn’t.

No matter how much I tried to shove the ache aside, it wouldn’t fade.

Frustrated with my lack of control over my own body, I decided on a different tactic.

One that would appease this useless need to offer comfort and stay within the boundaries of our relationship.

One that would possibly mend the gap created by our argument last night.

One that would give her an example of what I meant when I’d asked for a real marriage.

Not one of love, but one that included a partnership.

And partners were allowed to offer at least a little comfort.

It didn’t mean anything beyond making her more comfortable, which would make my life easier.

Satisfied with my rationale, I released my grip and softened my gaze. “I’m sorry your day was so long. I should’ve come to the office with you just in case your father showed up early, as he did.”

“No,” she answered easily. “It was easier to lie without the added stress of also having to put on a show with you.”

If my softer tone and apology threw her off, she didn’t comment as she had earlier when I asked her about her day.

Pleased with her reaction—or lack of one—I decided to follow her lead and keep the easy conversation going.

I even added a smile and a teasing tone.

“You’ll have to show off with me soon enough. ”

Her eyes narrowed as she tipped her head in question.

“The gala,” I reminded her, waggling my brows. “I assumed I would be your date.”

She laughed softly, her pinched features softening with one of her infamous eye rolls. With her arms crossed, she stared me down with a cocked brow. “Oh? Will you arrive early to take pictures and bring me a corsage?”

I snorted at the image she painted of us acting like some high school kids before a dance. “Hardly. However, I can definitely make sure we both have plenty of time before the event for some…stress relief,” I suggested, dragging my gaze up and down her curves.

It was her turn to snort, but I wasn’t joking. My playful smirk earned me another eye roll. This one less annoyed than the last and more of an attempt to distract me from the faint pink blooming in her cheeks.

Taking advantage of our softened moods, I broached another subject that would require us to put on a show, as she put it. “Also, I would like to introduce you to my godparents. Possibly this Sunday for dinner?”

She hesitated, her lips pursed, and I held my breath, waiting for her to postpone fulfilling her end of our bargain.

On instinct, tension coiled up my spine, bracing to argue, but was saved when she looked away with a sigh and licked her lips before bringing her attention back to me.

She was nervous. The sight of brave, bold Aspen expressing nerves released my fight response, leaving room to listen to a part of my mind that whispered to be patient.

“I guess Sunday would work.” She lifted her chin as if the nerves never existed.

I took a moment to soak up the stunning view of her pulling herself back together with beautiful strength.

I enjoyed the powerful woman before me. Her strength made her submission all the more exquisite.

My cock twitched, and I forced the thought aside.

She’d used her safe word for the night. Respecting her decision, I focused back on the conversation. “I promise you, they’re very nice.”

“Good. But I’ll have to worry about that once I get through Saturday.” She shook her head. “Speaking of, I have some extra emails to get to and contracts to finalize. But first, a shower to perk up.”

“How about a bath?” I offered, circling back to my determination to provide her comfort. As a partner. Nothing else, I reminded myself. “There is a tray for the bathtub that you can set your laptop on. I’ll even bring you a glass of wine.”

Her eyes narrowed. “That’s a nice offer,” she said slowly.

“I can be very nice.”

Her brow arched with doubt, and I shrugged, unwilling to hear myself explain the need to make her night more comfortable out loud.

“I’ll take the wine now and save you a trip.” She grabbed my glass and the bottle from the table, unrepentant about finishing my drink. “There’s no reason for you to come up while I’m wet and naked.”

“Oh, I can think of many, many reasons,” I said, my voice dripping with promise.

A flare of heat sparked in her gaze before she looked away. With a shake of her head and a laugh, she grabbed her bag, heading upstairs.

Leaving me alone to imagine her pert nipples peaking above the soapy water, her soft skin wet and begging to be touched, and me with an impossibly hard cock.