Chapter 41
Chapter forty-one
The penthouse door shut behind us.
Scarlett stood in the foyer in her wedding dress, veil still pinned in place, lace catching in the low light. I made no effort to hide the fact that I was staring. I took her slowly, as if I needed proof she was real.
My wife.
The word still hit like a punch to the chest.
We’d gone back to Xyst after the ceremony. I wouldn’t have ended the night anywhere else. The doors were locked to the public for the first time since we’d opened them; the lights lowered, the music soft, the floor ours alone for a private reception dinner and celebration.
My brother stood at my side. Nik was there, Lacey on his arm—his queen in every sense of the word.
Ana and Conan had flown back to the city the moment they heard what was happening, unwilling to miss it.
Rory stood near the bar, watchful even off duty, and Henri lingered beside him, glass in hand, pretending not to scan every exit.
Gabriel, Julian, Slade—the men who had bled with me to build and run the place—raised their glasses.
Sofia cried and laughed in the same breath.
Luca sat at the head of the table like a king satisfied with the dynasty he’d forged. He didn’t smile often, but tonight, there was approval in his eyes.
And the staff—God bless them—lined the edges of the room. Bartenders, servers, security. The people who had trusted us when we were nothing but a blueprint and a dream. It wasn’t just a wedding celebration. It was a thank you. For loyalty. For believing in what we were building.
We ate. We drank. We toasted my wife in the same place where I’d proposed.
That club was built from sweat, stubbornness, and risk. And tonight, it held the only thing that mattered.
My family—by blood and by choice—had witnessed me claim her.
I’d never been prouder.
My phone buzzed in my pocket, breaking me from my thoughts.
I frowned and pulled it out.
Slade.
Found Scarlett’s coat at the coat check. Her phone was in the pocket. Figured you’d want it.
I glanced up at Scarlett. “Slade’s dropping off your coat and phone. I’m going to run down to the garage and grab it. I’ll be right back.”
She nodded, still glowing from the night. “Okay.”
I didn’t like leaving her, even for five minutes.
But what was five minutes?
I took the elevator down, collected the coat from Slade, gave him a short nod, and headed back up.
The doors slid open.
“Scarlett?”
No answer.
She wasn’t in the living room.
I stepped fully inside and shut the door behind me.
“Scar?”
Nothing.
The kitchen was empty. There was no movement. No sound of heels on the marble floor.
A cold dread slipped down my spine.
I moved toward the bedroom.
The bed was untouched. The en suite light was off. I checked the closet–empty.
The air in my lungs tightened.
I walked back down the hall and opened my office door. Nothing.
Guest suite one. Empty.
Guest suite two. Empty.
My pace quickened.
Fuck.
Could someone have taken her?
My pulse began to pound, a sensation I didn’t allow often. Panic was a weakness I had trained out of myself years ago.
It clawed up anyway.
I moved faster now, cutting through the living room again, checking the patio doors. Locked. The river beyond stretched black and indifferent.
No sign of forced entry.
No sign of struggle.
I reached for my phone.
Lach.
My mind was already running through scenarios. Elevator logs. Garage access. Security feeds.
Rage simmered beneath the surface.
If anyone dared to touch her on our wedding night—
I ran a hand through my hair and forced myself to breathe.
Think.
The staircase.
I turned slowly toward it.
The upper level.
Gym.
Playroom.
It hit me all at once.
She might have gone up.
I took the stairs two at a time.
The gym was empty.
The playroom door stood closed.
My jaw tightened as I reached for the handle.
I pushed it open, only seeing darkness inside.
“Scarlett?”
Silence.
My stomach dropped.
Where the hell was she?
I stepped back, ready to tear through the rest of the floor, when I heard it.
A soft hum of breath.
I froze.
Then I slammed my hand against the light switch.
The room flooded with soft golden light.
And there she was.
Standing in front of the full-length ornate mirror at the back of the room.
One hip cocked. Elbow bent. Palm up in a dramatic pose.
My heart thudded hard against my ribs.
For half a second, I didn’t know if I was furious or turned on.
She didn’t turn.
She didn’t flinch.
She watched me in the mirror.
I stepped toward her slowly.
My hands moved to my collar. I loosened the bow tie and pulled it free, letting it fall to the floor without breaking eye contact.
“You’re a very bad girl,” I said evenly.
Her lips curved.
That little smirk.
She dared me.
As I closed the distance between us, I saw what lay in her open palm.
The switchblade.
The same one she’d tried to drive into my chest the first night she’d been here.
The memory flashed hot.
Her beneath me, fury in her eyes, blade in her hand.
My cock jerked hard in response.
That little minx.
She was testing me.
Pushing the edges of my control.
I stepped up behind her until my chest brushed the back of her dress.
With one hand, I gathered her hair and veil and swept them aside, exposing the elegant line of her neck.
She tilted her head without being told.
I bent and pressed my mouth just below her ear, our eyes locking in the mirror.
Her gaze flicked down toward the knife in her palm.
I chuckled, low and dark.
Scarlett wanted to play tonight.
She chose our wedding night to level up our sexuality.
Not surprising.
She had asked about this room more than once, curiosity burning in her eyes, but she never pushed back when I told her no.
Tonight, she wasn’t asking.
She was taking.
And I was very interested to see how far she thought she could go.
She wanted to play.
Fine.
But I wasn’t letting her walk into this room without understanding what it meant.
“Hmm.” I stepped closer. “My little bird is ready to fly on her own, I see.”
She lifted her chin in the mirror, that confident smile pulling at her mouth.
“I want to prove to my husband that I trust him,” she said. “What better way than to place my body at his mercy?”
My jaw tightened.
Mercy.
She had no idea how carefully I handled that word.
I would never harm her. Not in rage. Not in carelessness. But I knew what she was asking for. She needed to test the edges. Needed to see whether I could take her to the brink and hold her there without crossing a line.
She needed proof that I controlled myself as much as I controlled the room.
I could give her that.
I stepped fully behind her and reached up, gripping the back of her hair. I pulled just enough to tilt her head back.
“Then we set the rules,” I said.
My eyes held hers in the mirror.
“In this room, you surrender to me without argument. If you want to stop, you say so. You use your safe word, and it’s instant hands off. No hesitation.”
Her breathing deepened, but she didn’t flinch.
“You have to be willing to test your limits,” I continued. “To understand that pain, when contained, can turn into pleasure. That your body might respond in ways you don’t expect.”
I leaned closer, my mouth near her ear.
“And you need to understand that this room is different.”
She blinked slowly.
“The sex in our bedroom, on the kitchen counter, in the shower—” I let the words hang. “That’s ours. Perfect. More than enough.”
I tightened my grip slightly, reminding her who stood behind her.
“But in here, we play roles. We take on different versions of ourselves. We say things that stay inside these four walls.”
I wanted her to hear the warning beneath it.
Testing yourself sexually meant experiencing new things. Feeling things that may be uncomfortable. Seeing each other in a different light.
I wouldn’t have her walking in blind.
“Tell me you understand.”
She met my gaze in the mirror without wavering.
“Lucian, I do understand,” she said. Her voice didn’t shake. “I want you to push my boundaries so that every response is yours. So that every possible fear becomes something I control.”
Her hand closed around the switchblade in her palm.
“I want you to know that I trust you,” she continued. “And that you believe I will stop you if I need to.”
She tilted her head.
“You made me a vow today. I expect you to uphold it.”
And just like that, she wasn’t daring me.
She was claiming her ground.
I kept my eyes locked on her. “So be it,” I said, stepping back and shrugging off my jacket and tossing it onto the spanking bench. “My wife gets what my wife wants.”
I removed my cufflinks and unbuttoned my shirt, pulling it free from my trousers. I dropped the shirt and links to the floor, toed off my shoes, stripped my socks, then tugged the white undershirt over my head, leaving myself in nothing but black slacks.
Scarlett stood motionless, that damn knife still resting in her palm.
I stepped up behind her and settled my hands on her hips.
“Look at yourself, my love. You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.
This dress is absolutely stunning on you.
” I ran my fingers through the sheer fabric of the veil and lifted it to my mouth.
“It reminds me of the first moment I laid eyes on you. Like an angel delivered from heaven to me. Perhaps there is a God who listens after all.”
I removed the veil from her hair with care. It was an iconic piece. We’d both treasure and put to good use in this room. But for now, I needed her out of this dress and my hands on her creamy skin.
I tossed the veil onto the pile of discarded clothes.
Her eyes burned with excitement, not an ounce of fear in them.
But I needed to know she’d say her safe word. That she’d remember it if needed.
I brushed her hair aside and pressed a kiss to the curve of her neck. Then my hand shot to the knife. I snapped the blade open and dragged it to her throat, yanking her head back.
She gasped.