Chapter 43 Ruined Satin
Ruined Satin
The dress wasn’t supposed to be here. It should’ve been pinned for alterations, waiting in a boutique window. Instead, Lucas had thrown down his black card, told them to pack it up, and brought it home. Now it hung in his penthouse.
Now it was hers.
Now it was dangerous.
Maddison slipped into it alone, hands trembling as the zipper slid up. Satin hugged her curves, heavy and cool, like a secret meant only for them.
Her reflection stared back: wild red hair, flushed cheeks, bare feet peeking out beneath the hem of the wedding dress. Not her mother’s version of her. Not the crazy daughter. Not the broken girl.
This was Lucas’s version. His bride.
She padded into the living room, heart hammering.
Lucas waited. Shirt unbuttoned at the collar, sleeves rolled, tie discarded. His whiskey glass sat untouched. His eyes locked on her instantly and didn’t move.
He exhaled like a man punched in the chest.
“Fuck,” he rasped. “You’re perfect.”
“You already bought it,” Maddison whispered.
“Yeah,” he said, stepping closer, voice dropping. “Because I didn’t want anyone else to touch it. Or you. Because all I could think about was ripping you out of it.”
Her breath caught. Heat pooled.
He circled her, fingers grazing satin, lips brushing her ear.
“You know this isn’t surviving the night, right?”
Her knees went weak. “Then make it worth it, Daddy.”
His growl vibrated through her bones. He tore seams with his hands, fabric sliding from her shoulders in strips. Every kiss, every touch was possession.
“Obsessed,” he murmured.
“Crazy,” she whispered back.
When he pulled her into his lap, the ruined dress hanging in tatters, Maddison rode him until city lights blurred. Lucas clung to her like he’d drown without her, voice breaking on her name. After, he carried her to bed, tucked her in like something precious.
“I’d burn the world for you,” he whispered, softer this time.
She believed him.
Her phone buzzed on the nightstand. Remy.
Still playing fairy tales? Careful, Maddie. Dresses get ruined. Princes too.
Her chest tightened. Panic clawed , her mother’s voice, her sister’s smirk , until Lucas shifted closer, arm heavy at her waist, lips brushing her shoulder.
“Don’t look,” he murmured, half-asleep. “Stay here with me.”
She set the phone face down. Closed her eyes.
The world could wait.
Even Remy.
Because tonight, she was his.
And if the dress was ruined, so be it.
She wasn’t.