Chapter Six
Lucian
I can’t take my eyes off Elena. The urge to caress her rosy cheek is strong, but I push it down, settling for watching her sleep. I don’t want to take the chance of waking her. I’ve taken her three times during the night, so I know she needs to rest.
Still, I can’t help but think about the way her tight passage grips my cock with such friction that I come so hard I’m in danger of passing out. At the thought, my cock grows yet again beneath the white sheet, and hardens as I imagine her parted lips sucking me dry.
My attraction to her goes beyond the physical, and I’m starting to become attached to her on a deeper level than I ever imagined. Guilt mingles with sadness inside me as I remember the way I fended off her questions about myself and the auction house.
My arousal wanes. For the first time in my existence, I feel ashamed knowing that I allowed my father’s sexual slavery venture to go on for so long. It doesn’t matter that he’s powerful, and that I only let it go on because I wanted to gather enough evidence against him. Elena’s question made me realize that I should have gone about things differently instead of sacrificing hundreds of girls for my need for vengeance.
In little over a day, Elena has broken every emotional barrier I’ve kept up for more than two decades. I never wanted to deal with emotion, because it cripples one’s capabilities. My mom’s senseless death proved that.
And in order to beat my father at his own game, I had to become ruthless and create an inscrutable image for myself. Now, in my late thirties, Elena has hurtled into my life like a curveball. I wasn’t expecting her, but now I can’t imagine life without her in it. She is a blinding light in my cold, cruel world.
She’s so bright, so pure, that I fear she will one day see me for who I am and run.
Just like my mom ran from my father…
Even though I’ve tried to let Elena know the kind of person I am, I know she can never fully grasp the extent of my ruthlessness. What will happen when she finally comes to know that I’m worse than she imagines? A nightmare. My reach far surpasses my father’s in the criminal world. Can someone like her be with someone like me? If I finally bare it all, will she brave the darkness with me?
No matter the outcome, I’ve branded her mine, and I’ll do anything to keep her safe. Including wiping my asshole father off the face of the earth.
With that thought, I gingerly push away the bedsheet and slide off the bed. I pull on a pair of sweatpants, then leave the suite with my phone in hand. It’s time to speed up the plan I’ve spent years preparing for.
As I walk down the stairs, I dial a familiar number.
Marcus is one of few guards to have gained my trust at the auction house. He, like a few others, finds the clandestine activity going on in the chapel to be distasteful and vile.
“Mr. Devereaux,” his familiar gravelly voice reaches my ears.
“We need to move on with the plan. My patience is wearing thin.”
Between myself and Marcus, we’ve gathered enough evidence to put my father in jail for the rest of his life. But then a rumor started going around about the murder of a popular artist, Warren Flint, and I heard that my father might be responsible for his death. Even though the evidence I have is enough to hold him, I couldn’t pass up the idea of having more evidence on him, so I stalled.
But now I know I can’t wait anymore.
“I’m tracking all possible leads, sir. I’ve recently heard that there was a witness to the murder. I think I’m almost there, I just need a few more days,” Marcus says.
I stop at the coffee maker and add the necessary ingredients. “I appreciate all that you’ve done, Marcus, but I can’t wait. I’m calling my contact in the FBI once I end this call. If the lead you have is good, keep investigating—if you find concrete evidence, we can send it to my contact later.”
“Alright, Mr. Devereaux.”
“Good. I’ll reach out soon,” I say sharply, then end the call.
When the coffee’s ready, I pour some in a mug and slowly take a sip, warming up my insides. As I leave the kitchen, my phone vibrates in my palm. I frown when I see the ID. It’s my father.
Speak of the devil…
“Hello, Father,” I drawl in a low tone, devoid of emotion.
“Lucian,” he says in his usual soft, silky voice. The voice he uses to fool people into believing whatever he says. It doesn’t work on me, and he knows that, but he’s so used to deceiving people that he can’t help it. “Can you explain what the hell happened at the auction? We both know you detest that part of the business—you’ve never failed to let me know that. What’s gotten into you?”
“Since you’ve been hounding me to sample one of the women, I thought I’d take you up on the offer,” I reply breezily.
“I don’t believe a word from you,” he says quietly. “I want you to get rid of that girl. That’s an order.”
My entire body goes taut at his words. How dare he?
Despite my rage, I recognize the need to remain rational in this moment. So I keep my voice level, ignoring the heat searing into my palm from the coffee mug. “You know I don’t take orders from anyone, and definitely not from you. Still, let me humor you—why do you want her dead?”
“Don’t ask questions. Kill her, or I’ll do it for you,” he snaps, and then he hangs up.
My anger boils over, raging like a tornado as I tighten my grip around the coffee mug, pacing back and forth in the living room.
Why the fuck does my father want Elena dead?
Something isn’t adding up, and it’s pushing my fury to the forefront. I know that when my father wants someone dead, they end up dead. And I’ll never allow that to happen to Elena. I’d sooner tear out my heart than hurt a hair on her head.
There’s no way he wants to kill her just because I took an interest in her. There’s something else at play here.
Sitting on the couch, I set my mug on the coffee table and quickly fire off a text to Marcus: Find out why my father wants Elena dead. This is your utmost priority. Leave everything else.
The moment I send the text, I put the phone in my pocket and stare at the wall as I think of possible reasons for his decision. Does it have something to do with her lost memories?
“Lucian.” Elena’s voice penetrates my thoughts as she curls up next to me on the couch, looping her arm around me.
I look down at her, mustering a smile. “Good morning, love,” I say, leaning down to kiss her forehead.
She stares at my face, her eyes searching mine, unconvinced. “What’s wrong?” she asks quietly. “You looked murderous just now.”
“Does that scare you?” I ask, half joking but curious about her response.
“You don’t scare me, Lucian,” she says simply.
I tug her into my arms until she’s in my lap, and I bury my face in her neck, letting her soft, flowery scent soothe the fire in my soul. “I will protect you, my love,” I whisper fiercely into her ear. “I promise.”