Chapter Ten
Lucian
I knew there was something electric about her the first time I saw her dance. My instincts recognized her before I did. She pulled out a primitive part of me I never even thought existed.
At first, I tried to reason with it. I told myself I went to her next performance to study her form. But after the fourth, fifth, sixth time—it became fixation. I memorized the way her spine curved, even the smallest twitch in her fingers.
When she got hurt, I nearly lost my mind. I didn’t even think—I carried her out of that studio like she was made of glass. I didn’t trust anyone else to touch her, not even the doctor.
A week. I kept her in the villa for a week. I just needed to keep her close. To see her every day and make sure she was recovering okay. To make sure she didn’t vanish.
It was the best week of my life, having her in my space. How did I ever think two days a week were enough? I need her every minute of every day.
She claimed to hate it, but I saw the flicker in her eyes when she thought I wasn’t looking. A part of her craves my obsession. This thing I feel for her—it isn’t normal. It’s a sickness, the kind that gnaws at you from the inside out. I thought once I had her, it would fade. But it’s only growing.
I need space, or I’ll lose what’s left of my mind.
So I go to Cassian’s club. He’s one of my brothers, and the one who resembles me most in personality.
Cassian’s behind the bar, sleeves rolled up, that usual menace in his face. It’s both of our resting expressions.
He slides a glass my way. “Heard about your ballerina,” he says.
I’m not surprised—we all keep tabs on each other. Besides, I’m sure the press will release some stupid article about this in a few days. I haven’t been very subtle with my obsession. I down half the drink in one go.
“Didn’t take you for the obsessive type, brother.”
“I’m not,” I lie.
“Could’ve fooled me.” He leans against the counter. “You haven’t been back to the office in a week. You holed her up in that villa, didn’t you?”
I don’t answer.
Cassian laughs low. “You’re starting to look exactly like him.”
“Don’t.”
He shrugs. “Just saying. Our father thought it was love too. Said he couldn’t breathe without her. And look how that ended.”
He’s right. Our father loved our mother to the point of obsession, but the more his hold tightened on her, the more she wanted to flee. And flee she did.
He killed himself after a year of trying to find her and failing. We never heard from her again, and we all know it’s because she’s scared of us. She thinks we’re exactly like him.
“I’m not him.”
“Sure.” He swirls his drink. “Neither am I.”
Something in his tone makes me look at him. There’s a glint in his eyes—familiar. Dangerous.
“Don’t tell me,” I say slowly. “You’ve got one too.”
“Stripper at the club.”
Figures me and him would be the first to submit to the curse.
“A stripper?”
“She won’t be dancing for anyone other than me anytime soon,” he growls.
“You’re worse than me.”
“No. I’m just honest about it.”
He’s right.
I look down at the glass, the amber swirling in it like firelight. “I can’t even stand the thought of another man looking at her. I want her all to myself. But I don’t just want to fuck her. I want to hold her too, spoil her, and pamper her. The obsession grows more and more every day, and I’m afraid of it.”
“That’s the thing, Lucian. It’s rot. The same rot that made her run.”
He means our mother.
I can still see her face every time I close my eyes—sad, tired of being loved in a way that suffocates.
Maybe that’s what’s waiting for us too. Maybe we’re all wired wrong—men born with too much hunger and not enough peace.
Cassian lifts his glass. “To the family curse.”
I clink mine against his. “To the women who’ll destroy us.”
We drink.
Me, the eldest, fell first—I lit the match, and that means the rest of my brothers must burn too. Cassian followed. I wonder what poor women will stumble into my other brothers’ nets next.
I never thought I’d become my father one day.
He was a good businessman, a damn good father—but he saw nothing beyond my mother. The world could’ve been on fire, and he’d still only see her. I swore I’d never end up like him.
For years, I had no interest in women beyond what they could offer for a night. Sex was a transaction, an itch I scratched and forgot about before morning. I rarely even felt the pull for sex, but when I did, I dealt with it coldly. I thought that made me safe.
Turns out, I wasn’t.
I was just waiting—waiting for Aurora to walk in and ruin everything I thought I controlled. Waiting for Aurora to claim my heart as hers.