24. Emily
24
EMILY
W hen the elevator doors slide open, Lucas doesn’t let go of my arm, guiding me through the luxurious hallway and into the penthouse.
The door closes behind us with a finality that makes my stomach drop. I’m back in the cage, and there’s no telling what’s going to happen next.
“I fired the doorman for refusing to let you up. I fired the cleaners for leaving the door open. You’re causing me a hell of a recruitment crisis.”
He releases me, and I stumble slightly, catching myself on the back of a chair. The silence between us is suffocating, and I force myself to look up at him, trying to gauge his mood. His face is a mask of cold fury, but there’s something else in his eyes—something I can’t quite read.
“Do you have any idea the danger you were in?” he asks, his voice low and controlled, but there’s an edge to it that sends a shiver down my spine.
I open my mouth to respond, but the words don’t come. What can I possibly say? That I’m sorry? That I didn’t mean to cause trouble? I know better than to think that will make a difference. I’ve seen what Lucas is capable of, and I know that apologies won’t fix this.
He takes a step closer, his eyes locked onto mine. “Do you understand what could have happened? That cop wasn’t going to take you to safety. This isn’t a world of roses and puppies. He was waiting outside for you to escape. He was going to deliver you straight to Albrecht. As ordered.”
The name sends a chill through me. Albrecht. I’ve heard bits and pieces about him from Lucas, from the conversations he has with his men when he thinks I’m not listening.
He’s the rival, the one who’s been trying to undermine Lucas’s power, the one who won’t stop until he’s taken everything Lucas has—including me.
“He was going to use you, Emily,” Lucas continues, his voice rising with barely restrained anger. “Albrecht would have used you to get to me. Do you have any idea what he would have done to you?”
The thought of it, of being in the hands of someone even more ruthless than Lucas, makes my blood run cold. I shake my head, my voice trembling as I finally find the words.
“I didn’t know. I just wanted to get out. I can’t stay here, Lucas. I can’t be trapped like this. I can’t find work, I can’t do anything.”
“What work do you need? I’m paying for everything, aren’t I?”
“It’s not about money. I want to be a journalist. I want to submit articles but your firewall treats me like a porn obsessed teenager with a crypto problem.”
His expression softens, just for a moment, and I see something flicker in his eyes—something almost like regret. But it’s gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced by that steely resolve I’ve come to associate with him.
“I’m doing this to protect you,” he says, his voice firm. “I don’t care if you hate me for it, but you need to understand that everything I do is to keep you safe.”
I let out a shaky breath, trying to process what he’s saying. “Safe? You think keeping me locked up in this penthouse is keeping me safe? It’s suffocating, Lucas. I can’t breathe in here. I can’t live like this.”
He takes another step closer, his presence overwhelming. “You think I want this?” he asks, his voice rough with emotion. “You think I enjoy keeping you here, watching you suffer? I’m doing what I have to do, Emily. If you leave, if you get caught, I won’t be able to protect you. And I can’t—” He stops, as if the words are too difficult to say, then forces them out. “I can’t lose you.”
“What? Because of your heir?”
“No,” he says darkly. “Because of you.”
The intensity in his voice, the way his eyes flash fire with that admission, makes my heart skip a beat. He’s not just angry—he’s scared. Scared of losing control, of losing me. It’s a side of Lucas I haven’t seen before, a vulnerability that I didn’t think he was capable of. It throws me off balance, making me see him in a different light.
But I can’t let myself be swayed. I can’t forget that this man has kept me prisoner, that he’s done terrible things in the name of protecting me. I take a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak my mind.
“You can’t keep me locked up forever, Lucas. I need more than this. I need to feel the sun on my face, to breathe fresh air. I’ll go crazy if I stay here, and I’ll keep trying to escape if you don’t give me something—anything.”
He’s silent for a long moment, his eyes searching mine as if trying to decide whether to trust me. Finally, he nods, but there’s a hard edge to it. “Fine. I’ll give you more freedom, but there will be limits. You can go outside, but only with me, and only in places I know are safe. I won’t risk your life, Emily. Not for anything.”
“What about work?”
“You can submit articles as long as I check where they’re going and what they’re about.”
“Controlling much?”
“It’s to keep you safe. The wrong thing to the wrong people and we’re all fucked.”
I nod slowly, relief washing over me even as the reality of my situation sinks in. I’m still a prisoner, but at least now there’s a glimmer of hope, a chance to taste the freedom I’ve been craving.
It’s not everything I want, but it’s a start.
The tension between us eases slightly, and I can feel the shift in the air. It’s subtle, but it’s there—a growing trust, a fragile connection that wasn’t there before.
For the first time since all of this began, I start to believe that we might actually be able to make this work. That beneath the darkness, beneath the fear and the anger, there’s something between us worth holding onto.
Lucas moves across the room, his usual confident stride slightly more deliberate, as if he’s considering each step. He stops by the window, staring out at the city below, and I can’t help but wonder what he’s thinking.
Is he regretting the way he’s handled things? Or is he just calculating his next move, figuring out how to keep me under control?
I take a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak again. “Lucas,” I begin, my voice softer now, less confrontational. “I need to understand. You say you’re protecting me, but from what? From who?”
He doesn’t turn around, but I see his shoulders tense slightly. “There are people out there who would do anything to hurt me, to take what I have,” he says, his tone flat, almost emotionless. “Albrecht is the worst of them. If he got his hands on you… I don’t even want to think about what he’d do.”
The mention of Albrecht sends another chill down my spine, and I wrap my arms around myself, trying to ward off the cold feeling of dread. “But why me? Why am I so important to him?”
Lucas finally turns to face me, his expression hard but not unkind. “Because you’re mine,” he says simply. “You’re my wife, and that makes you a target. If Albrecht can get to you, he can get to me. He knows that. And he’ll use you to destroy everything I’ve built. You know the layout of this place. He can use that.”
His words hang in the air between us, heavy with implications I’m not sure I’m ready to face. I want to argue, to tell him that I never asked to be part of this, that I didn’t choose this life. But deep down, I know it won’t change anything. I’m in this now, whether I like it or not.
I nod slowly, trying to absorb what he’s saying. “So that’s why you’ve kept me here, locked away,” I say, more to myself than to him. “Because you’re afraid of losing control.”
“I’m afraid of losing you,” he corrects, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “You don’t understand the kind of world I live in, Emily. It’s dangerous, brutal. People die every day because they made the wrong choice, trusted the wrong person. I can’t let that happen to you. I won’t.”
There’s a sincerity in his words that takes me by surprise, and for a moment, I feel a flicker of something I haven’t felt in a long time—hope. Maybe, just maybe, there’s more to Lucas than the cold, ruthless man he presents to the world. Maybe, underneath it all, he really does care about me.
Lucas nods, a flicker of relief crossing his features. “We’ll go tomorrow. I’ll take you to the Museum of Art, early in the morning before it gets crowded. You’ll have the space to breathe for a while. I apologize. I got used to going to the mattresses so much in the early days, I forget most people haven’t done it.”
“Going to the mattresses?”
“When there’s a mob war. It means locking yourself away for safety while you work out a strategy. Over the years I’ve been trapped for weeks, sometimes months at a time.” He grimaces. “I can’t promise freedom every day.”
“The museum’s a start.” I think of Mom and the necklace and the pain of its loss stabs me again.
“Thank you,” I say, and I mean it. “For listening.”
He nods, but his expression is still guarded, as if he’s not entirely sure he should be trusting me. “I’m doing this because I know what you need,” he says. “But don’t mistake it for weakness, Emily. I’m still in control here. I have to be.”
“I know,” I reply, my voice steady. “And I’m starting to understand why.”
As Lucas turns away, heading back toward the window, I watch him with a mixture of emotions I can’t quite untangle. He’s still a mystery to me, still someone I’m not sure I can fully trust. But there’s something in the way he looks at me, in the way he’s trying to meet me halfway, that makes me want to try.