Chapter 6
ASPEN
With a demure tip of my lips, I walked across the room, waving and nodding to our guests without letting any of them interfere with my goal: to make it to the staircase where I could escape up to the mezzanine for air.
Not even Ash, who tilted his head in question, noticing my hollow eyes and fake smile.
I unclipped the velvet rope that kept guests from moving beyond the first floor and climbed the steps. When I reached the top, I stuck to the wall, hidden from view.
Closing my eyes, I drew in a deep breath and pressed my back to the cool wall, registering the texture beneath my flattened palms, the chair rail digging into my spine, the soft jazz drifting up from below, beneath the low hum of conversation.
I held my breath, then let it out slowly—free from the overstimulating glare of lights and the weight of eyes tracking my every move.
Free from the strain of scanning faces, of wondering whether guests were enjoying the party or quietly cataloging it as a failure.
I anchored myself to the wall—and nothing else, letting it all drift away.
Until I heard steps softened by the red carpet.
My eyes snapped open as I prepared to slide back into hostess mode, only to fall back against the wall when I saw Ash approaching.
“You okay?” he asked, leaning against the banister across from me.
“I’m fine.” I laced my answer with sincerity, hoping he wouldn’t pick up on the lie.
He smirked, and his brow rose, slow and deliberate, his expression calling bullshit.
Giving up the ruse, I groaned and crossed over to the railing, pressing my hands against the smooth stone and leaning into it at his side.
“I’d offer to comfort you, but with Lucian in the picture, I’m assuming our five minutes in heaven are over.”
I laughed at his reference to the few times I’d called him over to help relieve stress, and scanned the guests grouped together, clutching their champagne, and chatting with new friends and old. “Yeah, he probably wouldn’t like that.”
He hummed his agreement before falling silent. “I can see how much he cares for you after watching him stand by your side all night. Like a proud man in love, knowing he’s got the best woman in the room on his arm.”
I snorted. “The last thing Lucian feels about me is love.”
“You don’t think your fiancé loves you?” Ash asked, his head tipping to the side.
“I would say our marriage is…unconventional,” I answered with a sigh. “We both get what we need from our arrangement, but love isn’t one of them.”
“Soooo, you also don’t love your future husband?”
The answer should have been an easy no. Yet, when I asked myself if I loved Lucian Daire, my heart did this weird drop before buoying into a rapid thump.
He stood up for me. He threatened Brian and forced him to leave. He stood by my side and didn’t judge me.
He…defended me.
The usual heat he incited in my core spread, settling deep in my chest. When I layered in all the times he’d been waiting for me at home this week—with a glass of wine, a cooked meal, a bath already drawn because he knew how stressed I’d been—it pulled my focus past his sex appeal and into something warmer.
Was that love?
No.
I dismissed the question as soon as I thought it. Too much stood between us for me to be in love with him. However, I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe I could fall in love with Lucian Daire.
The idea terrified me.
I shoved aside all thoughts of love and shook my head. “I…care for him.” There, I could admit that. Even if I struggled to force the words past the lump in my throat.
Ash shot me a skeptical look before turning to scan the crowd over his shoulder. “Well, I think he more than cares for you. In fact, with the way he’s watching you right now, I’d say he craves you.”
My heart skipped a beat.
Craves.
Of all the words he could’ve said, he chose that one. The one that Lucian specifically used to explain what he would never feel for me.
Despite knowing I wouldn’t find the emotion on his face, I still looked, trying to see what Ash did.
I found Lucian’s broad shoulders in the crowd, my gaze snapping to his like a magnet.
Ash was correct that Lucian watched me, but not because he craved me.
All I found in his dark expression was indifference sparking with flashes of anger.
When he glanced toward Ash and his jaw ticked, I could only assume what he thought of us talking alone away from everyone else.
“That’s not craving. That’s just a man who doesn’t like to share his toys,” I explained and rolled my eyes.
“Oh, really?” he asked, a sly smile tipping his lips.
He scooted closer until our shoulders almost touched and leaned in so close his breath stroked my cheek.
Goosebumps spread down my arm when he gently brushed my hair behind my ear and whispered, “There’s a difference between not liking to share your toys and continuously glaring with jealousy because someone is touching what is theirs.
And not just a toy, but something—someone they need—someone that is crucial to him.
I bet he’s fighting the urge to come up here and claim you like some kind of caveman.
And I’m not even doing anything except standing close while we talk. ”
I glanced back at Lucian, finding the darkness from earlier building around him again. Not actual shadows, but an aura formed from the energy he cumulated with his dark glare and cruel curl of his lips.
“That man down there is watching you like he craves you and is fighting to hold back the need to come up here and ensure no one else comes close enough to take away something he wants as much as you.”
I studied Lucian, trying to see what Ash did—wanting to.
Maybe it was his explanation that coerced me to see more than I had before, but I started noticing little things.
The tick of his jaw every time he stole a glance away from his conversation to look up at me.
The flex of his hands around his glass, so tight I could see his white fingertips from here.
The forced smile he offered in the conversation, vanishing before it formed.
My heart fluttered, stealing my breath, and I didn’t know what to believe. Maybe Ash only saw what he thought was real, unaware of the truth behind Lucian’s and my arrangement.
But did the arrangement dismiss Lucian’s body language? Or was body language more honest than words—revealing truths neither of us was brave enough to say out loud?
Before I could dive too deep into the thought, Lucian stepped from the group and gave me one last heated stare as he made his way across the room. To the steps? To me? To claim me?
My breath stalled in my chest. I tried to tell myself it was irritation—that I wasn’t something to be claimed. But the heat blooming through my veins betrayed me, sparking an undeniable thrill I couldn’t ignore.
Ash bumped his shoulder against mine, pulling my attention to his smirking face. “That’s my cue to leave. Good luck.”
I watched him go in the opposite direction, my mouth agape. He’d instigated this situation, and now he was just going to bolt. Unbelievable.
I pulled myself together and turned to find Lucian cresting the last step; the thundercloud darkening his aristocratic features making me understand why Ash hadn’t stuck around.
Adrenaline surged through me, making my hands tremble. Attempting to hide my nerves, I straightened my shoulders and turned away, bracing my palms on the banister.
He stepped close, swallowing me in his shadow. “Have a good conversation with your fuck boy?”
The question washed over me like cold water, chilling me only on the surface while the heat beneath continued to simmer and thicken. I clenched my jaw and faced him. “He’s not my fuck boy.”
His gaze reignited my flesh. The jealousy I’d suspected from a distance was nothing compared to the heat that rolled over me now, intimate and unmistakable. “So, you’re telling me you’ve never slept with him?”
“I don’t see how any of that is your business. You don’t see me asking if there are any women here that you’ve slept with.” I doubted he’d slept with anyone here—except Emily, whom I’d seen walking around, pointedly avoiding anywhere I was.
He drew in a sharp breath through flared nostrils and cocked an arrogant brow. “I have no problem pointing out who I’ve slept with. There are no more than ten attending tonight.”
Surprise knocked me back from the banister, my eyes wide. I resisted the urge to demand he point them out one by one, but still stumbled another step away. “Ten women?” I asked, keeping my voice as even as I could. “You’ve slept with ten women at this gala?”
The swirl of emotions threatened to spill over—anger, disbelief, something far more treacherous. The last thing I needed was for him to think I cared. Even if, begrudgingly, I did.
He moved away from the railing and smirked, clearly seeing straight through my composure—and enjoying every second of it. “Don’t sound so shocked. I’ve had more years than you to gain experience with many partners.”
“It’s still an awfully high ratio of people to have slept with at a single event, no matter how old you are,” I grumbled, then stopped short, struck by the realization that I didn’t even know his age.
The absurdity of it nearly made me laugh—how little I truly knew about him. “How old are you, anyway?”
“I’ll be thirty-nine this summer.”
“Jesus…” I muttered.
“What? Does it bother you how old I am, princess?”
I studied him as I considered it, searching for signs of a man nearing forty.
There were fine lines at the corners of his eyes, but no gray hair.
Stubble shadowed his jaw most days, but it didn’t hide any deep wrinkles.
When I looked at him, all I saw was a man—confident, grounded, someone who understood the world and refused to let it fuck with him or anyone he cared about.
Like he had for me downstairs.
The thought tripped me up. Because…did Lucian care about me?