Chapter 15
LUCIAN
They say bad things come in threes, but I didn’t let myself get into situations that led to bad things. Mostly. I attributed it to my interpretation of the belief that warning signs come in threes, and that if you ignore them, that is when bad things happen.
After the past few months with Aspen, I’d only had the one alarm that kept going off—just one. And I continued to shove it so far down, I almost didn’t hear it anymore. I ignored it so thoroughly that I missed the slow descent into a situation that left me vulnerable.
However, that morning, three warning signs flared so intensely I had no choice but to finally acknowledge the alarm I’d been avoiding. It started when I first woke, slow and deep, thrumming beneath the depths I buried it.
I peeled my eyes open to find the sun perfectly illuminating the soft, warm body pressed to mine. The perfect cupid’s bow of her full lips. The delicate arch of her high cheekbones. The shadow cast from her thick lashes.
All of it pulled me in as if a moth to a flame.
I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed with her all day.
Not to dominate, spank, or fuck. I wanted to kiss her awake gently and watch the morning rays spark against the amber, gold, and bronze of her eyes.
I wanted to watch them soften with a smile as they met mine.
I wanted to bring her breakfast in bed. I wanted her to curl into my side as we drank coffee and watched the news.
I wanted to hold her in my arms and hear every memory, learning every hidden depth of her.
I wanted to not go to work.
And I’d never not wanted that—not since Daria.
The moaning wail intensified like a tornado siren pointed away but coming closer.
Moving carefully, I peeled my arm out from under her. She released a soft huff and her brows pinched—her discontent calling me back. But that just made me want to pull away faster. I would have jerked out of bed if it hadn’t meant waking her and having to explain the urgent need to run.
I grabbed my phone, clothes, and other morning essentials, and crept down the hall to a guest room to get ready.
Once I finished getting ready, I walked carefully down the stairs to the silent kitchen.
Almost deciding to forfeit my coffee because I didn’t want to make too much noise with the machine had me shaking my head.
I crept around my own home as if I were trying to escape someone threatening to tie me to a bed and murder me.
“Overreacting much?” I muttered, placing my cup under the machine with a huffed laugh.
By the time I reached my office at Quinn Music Group, I’d almost brushed off the morning.
Then I opened my phone and realized I’d forgotten to turn off Do Not Disturb, because I rarely used it. However, I had last night after Aspen came home, and I wanted to lose myself in her without any distractions.
The moan grew to a sharp wail—warning, warning, warning.
I swiped past four missed calls from my right-hand man, Vic, and opened the slew of missed text messages, skimming to the final few.
Vic: We lost the bid for Brad & East Manufacturing. They said they didn’t feel that our company took theirs seriously or provided enough attention to enhance their business, unlike others.
Vic: And I hope you don’t think I’m stepping out of line here, but I’m your friend and partner. I need to be honest even when it’s hard. We almost lost the last contract for a similar reason.
Vic: I know you’ve got a lot going on with your godfather and getting engaged, but ever since you took on Quinn Music Group, your focus has seemed to shift. I know it’s your fiancée’s company, and they’re a strong asset, but not at the cost of tarnishing your company’s name.
Vic: I’m only saying this because I’ve seen how hard you’ve worked.
Vic: Hopefully, I’ll see you in the office today, and we can talk more.
Irregular thumps of my heart stole my breath, and my head swam.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d lost a bid for a company. And never because of my lack of devotion. I’d never had anyone question my commitment. Heat crept up my neck to my face in a mixture of embarrassment and anger.
My head throbbed from my pinched brow to my temples. I rubbed at the ache, trying to convince myself I hadn’t devoted any more time to Quinn Music Group than I had to other acquisitions. I tried to convince myself that Vic was wrong.
But I couldn’t.
I’d only blinded myself to it.
As I swiped to check the rest of my notifications, the wail reached an insistent peak.
Hank Quinn: I’ll be in your office this morning.
“It’s probably a simple question he needs answered,” I tried to reassure myself, ignoring that all his other business messages had come through their intranet, not my personal number.
It fell on ears too consumed by the blaring alarm growing louder and louder, as if making up for every time I had ignored it.
Warning signs came in threes, and I’d already experienced two. When a knock struck my office door before Aspen’s father came in, I was pretty fucking sure I was about to be hit by three.
“Hey, Lucian,” Hank greeted. He smiled, but it was tight.
“Hank,” I greeted, heading to meet him at the seating area where Aspen and I had spent the past few months conducting interviews. “What can I do for you?”
He remained standing, and I followed his lead. “I won’t take up too much of your time. I just wanted to stop by and let you know I talked to Aspen yesterday.”
Oh, fuck.
I didn’t think Aspen would sabotage our plan at this point, but that didn’t mean something else couldn’t derail us. My mind worked overtime, imagining them all in the seconds it took to form a response. I cleared my throat. “Hopefully, a good one.”
At no point in our negotiations did Hank Quinn ever come across as intimidating. A good businessman? Yes. Someone to respect and not underestimate? Yes. But the way he watched me now—his green eyes locked on mine as if holding me hostage while he studied the depths of me…I was intimidated.
I pulled my shoulders back, but swallowed, ignoring the increasing beat of my heart.
“It was good. Very good, actually,” he finally acquiesced.
My lungs collapsed, and I struggled to control the relieved exhale to keep it from being too obvious. “That’s good to hear.”
“You make her happy.”
The tension, still banded around my chest, softened, and I couldn’t help the small smile even while the alarms continued to shriek. “I think we’ve both found something in one another that brings us what we need.”
“Good. Good.” He nodded and looked down.
Silence lingered like an eerie calm—a vacuum of sound that left me waiting for the siren’s cry to break.
“My wife and I raised her to be strong. We pushed her—probably more than we needed to, since she came from two stubborn, strong-willed, and passionate people. She can take care of herself. I know that. God, do I know that,” he laughed.
Then all humor faded, and Hank raised hard green eyes back to mine. Staring back at me wasn’t a respected businessman who, I now realized, could be intimidating.
No.
The stern emerald gaze pinning me to the spot was that of a father of a daughter, who looked like he would tear me limb from limb if needed.
“I know that we have a contract that makes our interests align. And don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to do anything to cause any harm to my company.
” He took a step forward, and I struggled not to take one back.
“But if you hurt her, I will do everything in my power to ruin you, even if it means taking Quinn Music Group down with it. Understood?”
“Yes, sir.” I tried to be the hard man he’d met across the business table, but the words barely stretched across the space between us. Because I didn’t have it in me to be the arrogant ass that Aspen accused me of.
All I had was the realization that I would want to be ruined if I hurt her.
The siren screamed its final warning—no longer just a noise but a physical pressure that pushed against my chest and rattled my foundation.
Because, without a doubt—without any place to hide from the blinding truth—I knew I’d give Aspen anything.
Because after years of promising I’d never be that na?ve young man from before—the one who opened himself to Daria, who left his father’s company exposed, who left himself exposed—I found myself exactly where I swore I’d never be.
Somewhere between watching Aspen storm into her father’s office and not being able to peel myself away from her this morning, I’d ignored every red flag. And now? It was too damn late.
Pins and needles crawled up my arms. My stomach hollowed, twisted, and dropped. The alarm wailed until it drowned out everything else. I couldn’t even remember the last thing I said to Hank before he left—just static and autopilot moving me through the motions.
“Fuck.”
I shut my eyes, shaking out my hands, dragging in air that never felt like enough. But the truth wrapped tight around me, unrelenting—my worst nightmare, coiled like a python, and I’d walked right into it.
Too late. Too late. Toolate. Toolatetoolatetoolate.
I growled in frustration and tugged at my hair.
Too late. Too. Late. Toolate. Toola—
Unless it wasn’t.
A thought appeared in the darkness, shining like a beacon. I latched onto it, too panicked to take time to consider its merit or the consequences.
Just because I knew how far I’d slipped didn’t mean anyone else could see it. Didn’t mean Aspen knew. Didn’t mean I couldn’t lock it down, patch the cracks, and claw my way back to solid ground.
Maybe if I did that, I could steady whatever this was between us. Maybe I cou—
No.
She was making me feel things I swore I never would again. I couldn’t afford the exposure. Not for anyone—not even her.
I couldn’t keep her close.
And there was only one way to guarantee the distance.
I had to push her away.
Just because I didn’t want to hurt her didn’t mean I couldn’t.
We had an agreement. I’d been clear about the rules, the lines, the expectations.
I never promised her anything more.
I clung to the assurance with a wild need, refusing to weigh the pros and cons when it already provided an ounce of relief. I shut down every other thought and started packing.
I had to leave.
I needed space — room to rebuild the walls, to fortify what she’d managed to breach.
To protect myself.
The siren finally eased, slipping into a low thrum, as if agreeing with me. I latched onto it—let it anchor me.
Because anything was better than listening to the whisper I didn’t want to face—that this was already a mistake.