Chapter 4

Lucas’ POV

I stared at the woman in my arms, and my brain completely stalled.

Ariana.

The name had been a ghost in my mind for four months. I had looked for her in every high-end club and fashion gala in Europe, the girl who had tasted like silk and rebellion, only to vanish before the sun came up. I never expected to find her in a sterile hospital lobby, looking like she had been hollowed out by grief.

Her skin was pale, and her eyes were red with tears. She looked fragile, like a piece of fine glass that had already been shattered and glued back together. But even now, with the smell of antiseptic around us, that same electric pull between us hit me like a train.

"You," I rasped. My voice sounded foreign to my own ears, rough and stripped of its usual corporate steel.

She didn't speak. Just stared at me, her small hands clutching the front of my suit jacket as if I were the only thing keeping her from falling into the floor. Her breathing was shallow, hitching in a way that made my chest tighten with an unfamiliar, sharp pain.

I wanted to shake her. I wanted to kiss her. I wanted to demand why she had left me in that dark room without so much as a note.

"Lucas?"

The voice came from behind me. It was our family lawyer, Marcus. He was holding a stack of black folders, the weight of my father’s legacy in paper form.

"We need to go," Marcus said, his voice dropping to a respectful whisper. "The administrator is waiting in the private office to finalize the joint arrangements. There are... legalities regarding the co-mingled estate."

I didn't look at him. I couldn't take my eyes off Ariana. "Not now," I snapped.

"It has to be now, Lucas," Marcus insisted, keeping his distance. "The other beneficiary is already being located. We need to clear the accounts for the funeral costs immediately."

Ariana’s eyes suddenly flickered. The mention of 'funeral costs' seemed to snap her back to reality. She pulled away from me, her hands dropping from my jacket as if the fabric had turned into hot coals. She took a step back, shivering in her thin dress.

"I... I have to go," she whispered, her voice trembling with confusion. "My mother. I have to find her... I have to take her home."

The way she said 'home' broke something inside me. I reached out to grab her arm again, to tell her I would help, but she was already turning away, her movements frantic and disjointed.

"Wait!" I called out, but she was lost in the crowd of nurses and grieving families.

"Let her go, Lucas," Marcus said, placing a firm hand on my shoulder. "You have a duty to your father. Let’s finish this so we can bury him with the dignity he deserves."

I gritted my teeth, my jaw aching from the tension. 

I watched the spot where she disappeared for a long second before turning around. 

.

.

Three days later...

I stood in my father’s study, staring out at the skyline back in the estate. The funeral had been a private, cold, corporate affair. Men in suits had shaken my hand, offering shallow condolences while their eyes calculated how much of the Everhart market share they could steal now that the ‘Old Lion’ was dead.

"Lucas?" Marcus, stood in the doorway. He sounded tired. Also was I. "I’ve finished the audit on your father’s final expenses. There was a slight complication with the hospital bills."

I didn't turn around. "What complication? I told you to settle everything. I don't want a single debt hanging over his name."

"It’s not a debt," Marcus said, walking toward the desk. "It’s the other party. Your father’s wife, Ruby. I took the liberty of using the estate funds to clear her medical and funeral costs as well. It seemed… uhh… appropriate, given the circumstances."

I finally turned, my eyes narrowing. "Ruby. My father’s secret bride."

I had never met her and never wanted to. My father had kept his private life in a vault, but not to me. He was my hero, everything I wanted to be, strong, logical, and a brilliant businessman. I followed in his footsteps, wanting to make him proud. So, when he started dating, and married the woman two decades younger than him in a quick Vegas ceremony three months ago, I was shocked that he would let himself be controlled by his other head, instead of the one above his shoulders. 

"And her daughter?" I asked, remembering the social worker mentioning a daughter at the hospital.

"She tried to pay the bills herself that morning," Marcus replied. "The hospital staff told her the Everhart estate had already covered it. She was... confused. Apparently, she didn't even know her mother had remarried."

I felt a flicker of pity for the girl. To lose a mother and find out she had a secret life all in one day…it was a heavy blow. "Make sure she’s taken care of, Marcus. Find out where she lives. Send her whatever she needs to get through the month."

"Actually," Marcus said, pulling a heavy, wax-sealed envelope from his briefcase. "You’ll be meeting her shortly. The will reading is scheduled for tomorrow at my office. Your father left a specific clause regarding her. He was very adamant about it in his final update."

I sighed, already feeling a migraine on its way. "Fine. Let's just get it over with."

.

The door clicked shut, leaving me alone in the dim light of the study.

I poured three fingers of bourbon and sank into the leather armchair, closing my eyes to block out the headache pounding behind my temples. My mind was heavy with grief and anger. But as the silence settled over the room, the sharp edges of the day blurred.

Suddenly, the smell of rain faded.

The air grew thick, warm, and sweet. I looked up, and she was standing right in front of the desk. 

She didn't look pale or broken like she had in the lobby. Her skin was warm, flushed pink under the dim light. She wore that same pale silk dress from the gala—the one that fit like water, slipping off one of her shoulders.

She didn't say a word. She moved around the desk, her bare feet silent on the rug. The heat and her arousal smell radiating off her was suffocating. She leaned down, resting her small hands on my chest, her fingers tangling into my shirt.

"Lucas," she murmured.

Her lips brushed mine, soft and burning. I reached out, my hands gripping her waist, pulling her down into my lap. She gasped against my mouth, her hips pressing hard into mine, the thin silk doing nothing to hide the curve of her body. The sheer friction sent an electric shock straight through my gut. I wanted to tear the silk off her and leave marks on her skin so deep she could never run away again.

My pulse hammered in my ears as I started nibbling on her neck. It made her shiver, goosebumps rippling down her arms. My hand smoothed over her body with easy possessiveness, feeling the tightened skin around her breasts. I pulled her closer, ready to take her right there on the desk…

My eyes snapped open, and the heavy scent of rain returned.

The room was freezing. I stared hard at the smoldering fire in the chimney.

I have to find her, this time, I have no intention of giving her any chance to escape again.

.

.

The lawyer's office was located in a historic building. It was a place of dark wood, heavy curtains, and the suffocating smell of old law books.

I arrived exactly on time. I expected to be the first one there, to sit in the high-backed leather chair and wait for the ‘daughter’ to walk in looking for a payout.

But when I opened the heavy oak doors to Marcus’ office room, someone was already there.

She was wearing a simple black dress that made her look even smaller than she was. Her hair was pulled back, exposing the sharp, elegant lines of her face. She didn’t turn to look at me, her shoulders hunched as if she were trying to disappear into herself.

"Thank you for coming, both of you." Marcus said calmly, as he rose up from his chair behind his desk.

The woman didn't move at first. She seemed to be gathering her strength. Slowly, she stood up and turned around to face me.

My heart didn't just beat; it slammed against my ribs.

She looked nothing like the woman who’d left me tousled and naked in a hotel room bed four months ago.

Ariana.

She stopped moving the moment our eyes met. I saw the exact moment the air left her lungs, her eyes widening, and the blue of her irises turning dark with a sudden, violent shock. She stumbled back, her hip hitting the corner of the table, but she didn't even seem to feel it.

"You," she breathed. Her voice was a tiny, broken thread of sound.