Chapter 5
Elora
"Anthony's already brought your things over. Seven-thirty. Downstairs, dining room. My mother wants to meet you."
Lucien left, closing the door softly behind him.
His mother wanted to meet me. First day at the manor.
Stay calm, Elora.
I dropped onto the edge of the bed and started breathing deeply. It took forever for my heart to settle. Finally I got up, picked a light blue dress from the closet, and fixed my hair in the mirror three times before I could make myself go downstairs.
The dining room door stood half-open. An elegant woman sat at the far end of the long table, silver-gray hair twisted into a loose low bun, wearing a sharply tailored navy velvet blouse. The moment she looked up and saw me, her lips curved into a gentle smile.
"You must be Elora."
She rose and came toward me. I tensed—in my experience, older women coming at me never meant anything good.
But she just took my hand lightly, her gray-green eyes warm with genuine warmth.
"I'm Natalie. Lucien's mother." She leaned closer, cupping my face. "Let me look at you."
"Prettier than the photo." She released me and gestured toward a chair. "Lucien's terrible at taking pictures. Sit, sweetheart. You must be starving."
Through the whole meal, she didn't ask a single uncomfortable question. Just chatted easily about the manor's gardens, the book she was reading, occasionally sliding a perfectly roasted lamb chop onto my plate.
After dinner, I went back to the bedroom. Lucien wasn't there. I showered, changed into pajamas, and lay down on the far edge of the bed.
The door opened. I snapped my eyes shut immediately, breathing as shallow as I could. The bathroom door opened and closed. Water ran for about fifteen minutes. Then the mattress dipped on the other side, and a clean shower-gel scent drifted over.
I lay rigid, but my heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would jump out of my throat.
"Elora."
I didn't answer.
"I know you're awake."
I gave up and opened my eyes, turning to face him.
"I'm just... still getting used to this."
"Sure." He made a noncommittal sound, switched on the lamp, and handed me a box. "This belongs to you."
I took it, confused, and opened it. A deep emerald green glowed softly against the velvet lining—Grandmother's necklace.
"How did you—" My voice cracked.
"It's yours. If there's anything else they took, tell me. I'll get it back."
I clutched the necklace tight, trying to say something, but my throat closed up.
"Thank you." I pressed the necklace to my chest. "Really. Thank you, Lucien."
"Sleep."
He rolled over and switched off the lamp.
I wiped my eyes, set the necklace on the nightstand, and lay down.
Immediately, an arm slid around my waist and pulled me back.
His chest pressed against my back, his arm tightened, fitting me against him.
His body heat seeped through the thin fabric, impossibly warm.
"You—"
"Sleep." His chin rested on top of my head, voice muffled.
His breathing evened out quickly. I tried a few times to shift away, but every time he just tightened his arm and pulled me back.
Fine. Whatever. I closed my eyes and fell asleep fast in his too-warm embrace.
Once I'd settled into the manor, I planned to go back to work at Serenity Essence.
When I showed up with a fresh batch of essential oils, the roll-down gate was locked tight, and a "CLOSED" notice was taped to the door.
I yanked out my phone and called Claire.
"Elora? You didn't know?" Claire sounded crushed. "The owner sold the place a couple days ago. Said the buyer's offer was too good to refuse. The rest of us... he paid us out and let us go."
My fingers went cold. He sold the shop. So I...
By the time I got back to the manor, it was dark, and my mind kept circling back to one thought—find a new job. Fast.
Lucien appeared in the doorway at some point, holding a folder.
"You're back early today?" I forced a smile.
He didn't answer. Just handed me the folder. "This is for you."
"What is it?" I took it and opened it.
"Party A voluntarily transfers the operating rights and lease of the retail space located on Seventh Avenue, Greenwich Village, permanently to Party B, Elora Vance, effective upon signing."
So the buyer who'd made that "too good to refuse" offer—it was him.
"You—this—"
"It's yours now."
One second I thought I had nothing. The next, he'd put a future I'd never dared imagine into my hands.
"I can't accept this." I pushed the folder back, voice tight. "You've already given me enough money. I don't want to owe you—"
"You cured my insomnia."
I froze.
"It's payment." He looked away.
I tried to refuse again, but suddenly he frowned and pressed his fingers to his temple, exhaustion written all over him.
"In that case—" I pulled the folder back. "Lucien, let me make you a custom sleep blend. Want to try it?"
His hand paused. He looked up, something unreadable flickering in those gray eyes.
"Whatever." His ears slowly turned red.
I moved closer and massaged his pressure points. He fell asleep quickly. I couldn't. Lucien's insomnia was far worse than I'd thought—ordinary sleep aids barely touched it. I'd need to figure out a new formula.
Meanwhile, I threw myself into the shop. I called back the girls who'd worked there before, and we ran ourselves ragged for a solid week until we'd finalized the upgrade plan.
The moment I got home, Natalie dragged me to the dining room to set the table. She'd gotten obsessed with it lately. She put me on candlestick duty while she went to the storage room for plates.
I'd just pulled out the silver candlesticks when a commotion erupted in the front hall.
"Get out of my way! I need to see my uncle!"
Ethan.
Before the echo faded, the dining room door slammed open. Ethan burst in—collar twisted, hair a mess, eyes bloodshot. He looked like he hadn't slept in days.
The second he saw me, his face twisted.
"You!"
He charged at me like a rabid bull and grabbed my arm, nails digging into my skin.
"You lying bitch! You were hooking up with my uncle from the start, weren't you? Playing innocent—" Spit flew at my face. "You think I don't know? You whored yourself out to my uncle to get that shitty shop and his money!"
"Let go!" I struggled hard. "Ethan, you're insane!"
"Because of you, my card got frozen, my apartment kicked me out, I've got nothing left! All because of you, you fucking—"
I slapped him.
The crack echoed through the dining room. Something feral flashed in his eyes. He shoved me down hard, his whole weight crushing me, tearing at my collar.
"Who the fuck do you think you are?" His knee jammed between my legs. "If you like getting fucked so much, then I'll—"
I screamed, punching his chest, driving my knee up, but he was too heavy.
Just when I thought it was over, Ethan was yanked off me. Then Lucien's fist crashed into his cheekbone and sent him flying. He hit the table, candlesticks scattering everywhere.
Lucien didn't stop. He followed, kicked Ethan's ribs. Ethan screamed and curled up. But Lucien grabbed his collar and smashed a fist into his nose. Blood sprayed.
"Lucien—" I scrambled up. "Stop!"
He didn't turn around. His hand gripped Ethan's collar, knuckles white, those gray eyes churning with a rage I'd never seen—almost out of control.
"Listen carefully." His voice came out low, barely human. "Starting now, not just that card—I'm freezing all your trust funds. Every position you held in this family is revoked."
Ethan's mouth was full of blood, trying to say something.
"Get out!" Lucien released him, letting him collapse. "If you ever come near her again, I'll show you how I deal with traitors."
Enzo came through the door, grabbed the half-dead Ethan, and dragged him out. Ethan's broken pleas faded down the hallway until they disappeared.
The dining room went quiet.
Lucien turned and walked toward me. His cuffs were bloody, his collar crooked, a thin sheen of sweat on his temple. Before I could be afraid, he crouched down and pulled my arm toward him. Only then did I notice the bruises blooming where Ethan had grabbed me.
"Does it hurt?"
I shook my head. Truth was, I was still shaking.
"I'm fine."
He helped me up, draped his jacket over my shoulders, and murmured something to Natalie, who'd rushed in looking grim. Then, without a word, he scooped me up and carried me back to the bedroom.
That night he went to bed early. Didn't say much. Just pulled me into his arms after the lights went out, holding me tighter than he ever had.
I thought that was the end of it. Obviously, I was wrong.
Two days later, coming back from the shop, I passed through the corridor from the kitchen to the main house and heard hushed whispers.
"Did you hear? That day when Ethan barged in, he said the new missus had been with the boss way before..."
"I knew it. How else does a woman meet him at an engagement party and move right in? She obviously hooked up with him ages ago."
"Who knows... she's just got some tricks. Look at that body. And that shop. She's a plaything, that's all. Enjoying her moment while it lasts."
"Keep your voice down! Someone might hear—"
I stood at the corner, fingers white-knuckled around my bag strap.
Calm down, Elora. This isn't the first time people talked behind your back. You've heard worse. Don't let it get to you.
I took a deep breath, straightened my spine, and stepped around the corner. The two maids went silent instantly. My nails bit into my palm. I closed my eyes, about to walk past them.
"Watch your mouths."
A low voice came from the end of the hall.
Lucien. I didn't know how long he'd been standing there. He wore a black shirt, sleeves rolled to his forearms, collar slightly open, walking this way—not fast, but every step carried a suffocating weight.
The maids' faces went white.
"Sir—"
"Rocco." Lucien didn't even glance at them.
From the other end of the hall, Rocco appeared out of nowhere, lollipop in his mouth.
"Get everyone on duty today to the front hall."
"Sir, I—"
"You have ten seconds to get out of my sight."
She flinched like she'd been whipped and bolted. Rocco whistled lazily and followed.
Only Lucien and I were left in the hallway.
"Lucien, I—"
Before I could finish, all the manor staff filed into the hall. Rocco stepped forward and reported something quietly. Lucien nodded, pulled me against his side, and spoke.
"I want you all to remember—Elora is the mistress of this manor. Anyone who disrespects her disrespects me. Understood?"
"Yes!" The response came back shaky and terrified.
I stared at him, almost dazed.
"Elora?"
"Yeah?" I jerked my head up.
"Did you hear what I said?"
"What?"
"I said go rest in your room."
"Oh. Okay."
I turned toward the bedroom, feet floating like I was walking on cotton. All I could see was him standing backlit, telling everyone I was the mistress of this manor.
That night, he came back late. He pulled me into his arms from behind like always. Soon his breathing deepened. One arm lay heavy across my waist, holding tight.
Moonlight spilled through the window onto his profile. I turned toward him, watching quietly. His scalding heat seeped through my pajamas inch by inch, his chest against my back, one beat after another—steady, powerful.
I finally had to admit that ridiculous, impossible thing—I had feelings for this man.