Chapter 10 #2
“What did he want in return?”
She looks at me, something earnest and unflinching in her eyes. “He wanted Riley safe. And he wanted me out of that house.”
The kitchen feels quieter suddenly.
“He offered me work,” she continues. “Said I could leave anytime. That I owed him nothing. I didn’t believe him at first.”
“But you stayed.”
“I stayed,” she says simply. “Because he meant it.”
I glance around the kitchen. The spotless counters. The careful order of everything. “So…why here? Why run the house instead of, I don’t know, marrying Riley and disappearing somewhere sunny?”
She laughs, real and loud. “Oh, trust me, Riley’s tried to convince me to move but...”
“But?”
“But Lucian doesn’t trust just anybody,” she says, sobering. “Especially not in his home. This place is the only space he doesn’t have to be on guard. The only place where he’s allowed to breathe.”
I think of Lucian at night. Of the way he comes apart in the dark. Of how carefully he controls every inch of his world.
“He deserves that,” Mara continues. “To feel safe where he sleeps. To know the people around him aren’t going to betray him.”
“And you don’t mind?” I ask. “Working instead of…everything else?”
She smiles at me then, gentle and knowing. “Elias, I don’t work for him because I have to. I work for him because I want to.”
I look down at my hands.
“Lucian is a deeply kind man,” she says quietly. “But kindness is a luxury someone like him doesn’t get to show. Not openly. Not without consequences.”
My chest tightens.
“He carries his father’s sins,” she continues. “Every brutal decision. Every hard line. Because if he doesn’t, someone else will. And that someone might hurt Riley. Or me. Or anyone else he’s protecting.” She eyes me knowingly.
“He didn’t become this way because he wanted to,” Mara says. “He became this way because someone had to.”
The weight of that settles over me, heavy and inescapable.
I’ve spent weeks seeing Lucian as a force. A presence. A man who commands and takes and decides. I’ve felt his gentleness in private, but I always thought of it as something accidental. Something he didn’t quite mean to give.
Now I see it differently.
“Thank you,” I say quietly.
She smiles. “For what?”
The kitchen door opens behind us. I feel warm hands skate around my waist as Lucian presses a kiss to my neck.
The room shifts when he enters, like gravity recalibrating itself. He’s in a dark suit, jacket still buttoned, expression smooth and unreadable. But his eyes soften the second they land on Mara.
He crosses the space without hesitation and presses a kiss to her cheek.
“Riley wants to take you out this weekend,” he says calmly. “Dinner. Somewhere loud, apparently. You can have the weekend off.”
Mara beams. “That sounds wonderful. You sure you won’t need me?”
“I think we’ll manage.” Lucian’s dark eyes heat as he glances at me. Oh.
Oh.
Mara doesn’t notice. She just smiles. “You’ve gone so soft.”
Lucian barely reacts. Just one corner of his mouth lifts. “Don’t start rumors.”
“I lost a poker game to Riley,” he says evenly. “I owe him one.”
Mara laughs. “You’re terrible at lying.”
“I didn’t lie,” Lucian replies. “I omitted details.”
She snorts, phone buzzing in her hand. “I’ve got a call. Try not to traumatize each other while I’m gone.”
She slips out of the kitchen, leaving the door swinging shut behind her. The silence stretches.
Lucian crowds me against the marble kitchen island. His thumbs loop themselves in my belt loops, tugging me closer to him.
“Would you like to go on a date with me?” he asks.
I blink.
“You’re serious,” I say.
“Yes.”
Just that. No qualifiers. No conditions. No threats disguised as invitations.
I stare at him for a second longer, then laugh. “Wow. We are doing this wildly out of order.”
His brow lifts slightly. “Explain.”
“Sex first,” I say, ticking it off on my fingers. “Then friendship. And now romance?”
A beat.
He traces his nose along my neck. “I don’t see the problem.”
I pull away, chuckling. “Of course you don’t.”
I’m still talking when I notice it—his attention drifting, not to my eyes, but to my mouth. The way his gaze tracks my lips as I speak, like he’s memorizing the shape of my words.
It makes my stomach flip.
“You’re staring,” I say.
“I’m listening,” he counters smoothly.
“Liar.”
His eyes darken just a fraction. “Careful.”
I feel heat crawl up my neck, but I don’t look away. “So what does a date with the Devil look like?”
“Dinner,” he says. “Somewhere discreet. No work. No phones.”
I arch a brow. “You can do that?”
“I can do anything, sweetheart.”
That honesty does something dangerous to my chest.
I tilt my head up to look at him. “Okay,” I say. “But next time, we’re doing things in the right order.”
“And what order would that be?” he asks.
I smile, slow and deliberate. “Dinner. Movie. Sex. The usual.”
He shakes his head. “Sex. Dinner. Sex. Movie. Sex.”
“Shut up.” But his mouth is on mine before I can get the words out.
??? ??? ???
Lucian takes me to his favorite restaurant on a Thursday night, which already feels like a secret.
We arrive after sunset, the city washed in gold and shadow, and when the car pulls up, the place is dark—no glow from the windows, no hum of voices spilling onto the sidewalk. The sign is still lit, elegant and understated, but everything else is quiet.
I hesitate. “It’s closed.”
“For us,” Lucian says, like it’s nothing.
Inside, the lights come up slowly, warm and intimate.
Candles already lit. A single table set near the windows.
White linen. Black plates. Crystal glasses that catch the light when he moves.
The staff is gone besides two waitresses and the chef.
No eyes. No whispers. Just us and the low murmur of the city outside.
“You own this place,” I say, not really asking.
He pulls out my chair. “Among others.”
I sit, watching him with a mix of awe and disbelief. “We could’ve just…gone somewhere normal.”
He pours wine, deep red, unhurried. “This is normal. For me.”
That lands somewhere complicated in my chest.
Dinner unfolds slowly. The food is incredible—rich without being heavy, familiar without being boring. Lucian watches me eat like he’s pleased by it, like this was part of the plan. I pretend not to notice. I fail.
Halfway through the second glass of wine, warmth curling through my veins, the question slips out before I can stop it.
“Have you ever been in a long-term relationship?”
Lucian pauses, glass halfway to his mouth.
Then he smirks.
“Is that what you want from me?” he asks mildly.
My face goes hot instantly. “No—I mean—I was just asking. About your life.”
He takes a sip, eyes never leaving mine. “Relax.”
I try. I really do.
“I haven’t,” he says after a moment. “Not for very long.”
“Why?”
He sets the glass down carefully. “My father didn’t believe in distractions. He believed in performance. Results. Anything that threatened focus was… removed.”
The word sits between us, sharp and final.
I swallow. “Would you ever want something like that?”
A relationship. Something steady. Something real.
Lucian studies me, the corner of his mouth lifting into something softer than a smirk. “It’s been crossing my mind lately.”
My heart kicks hard against my ribs.
“I was wondering, Lucian.” I swallow nervously.
This thought has been raging against me the past few weeks, but I’ve been too afraid to ask. But now, now that we’ve become closer, I want to see what the devil will say.
“Yes?” His dark hair falls into his eyes, making me stuttered.
“I was wondering if from time to time I could be permitted to leave your estate?”
Lucian stares at his wine glass, waiting.
“Just to go grocery shopping or get a coffee.” I hurriedly add. “I’m in the house all day while you’re gone and I’m bored.”
Lucian’s laugh is booming and warm. I jump at the sound.
He smiling so hard his eyes start to tear up. “You’re bored, huh?”
“Yes. Miserably. I’d like to go out with Mara shopping or with you to run any errand.” I blow out a breath. “I feel like a housewife with no duties.”
Lucian runs his fingers over my hand adoringly. “Sweetheart, I’m sorry. Of course. You’ll have to bring a guard with you or a driver, but of course. Go wherever you want that’s not another mob’s den.”
“Really?”
Lucian tilts his head, the beautiful smile on his face making him look like a damn movie star. “You’ve listened to me well, Elias. A reward is overdue.”
I shift closer, my knee brushing his beneath the table. He doesn’t move away. His hand rests near mine, close enough that I can feel the heat of him.
I lean in, voice low. “You know,” I say lightly, “we’re still doing things out of order.”
“Are we?” he murmurs.
I smile and close the distance just enough to let my fingers slide into his lap, hidden by linen and shadow. His breath catches—just once. His gaze darkens, but he doesn’t stop me.
Lucian’s hand tightens around his glass as he leans back, jaw clenched, eyes never leaving my face.
My hand undoes the button of his slacks, passing over the tightening bulge.
His legs spread bumping my leg under the table. “Elias.” His voice is warning.
I press a long kiss against his neck, my hand teasing under the linens. “I thought you owned the place?”
My hand slips into his pants finding him hard and ready. He brings his wine glass to his lips and downs the rest of it.
I feel a bead of cum leaking from his slit. I use it, slicking my hand down his shaft.
“Fuck,” he groans.
I smirk, shifting out of my chair and under the table.
His cock is like a fucking masterpiece. Large and veiny. It leans to the right slightly but when it’s inside me it fills all the right places. I take it into my mouth greedily. My own dick growing persistently in my dress pants.
Lucian shifts his leg pressing it against my crotch. I hum against his skin, as his hand pushes my head down.