CHAPTER FIVE: THE KISS THAT CHANGED EVERYTHING

Ivy

The sound of my heels echoed across the marble floor like a countdown. Every step toward the ballroom felt like walking into a storm I could already feel pressing against my skin. The chandelier’s glittering light did little to thaw the cold in my chest.

I wore red.

Lucien hadn’t said a word about what I should wear. But I wanted him to see me—not as a pawn, not as a convenience, not as a Sinclair contract wrapped in silk. I wanted him to feel it. Regret. Lust. Rage. Anything.

I wanted to be impossible to ignore.

And he noticed.

From the moment I entered the room, his gaze pinned me like a knife to a corkboard. He didn’t move, didn’t blink, just watched. As if he knew something about me I didn’t yet. As if he was cataloguing every curve, every inch, and already planning what to do with it.

I hated how my breath hitched.

He looked devastating. His tuxedo fit him like it had been stitched directly to his body. Black on black, with a crisp white shirt beneath. Hair swept back. A jaw that could wound.

Lucien Blackwood looked like danger dressed in elegance.

And I had to stand next to him like I belonged there.

As we mingled with politicians, tech giants, and billionaires who smelled like entitlement and aged whiskey, I said all the right things. I smiled. I nodded. I laughed on cue. And all the while, I felt him.

Watching me. Listening.

We were the perfect couple.

The perfect lie.

“Smile,” he murmured as he handed me a glass of champagne. His fingers brushed mine—barely a touch, but it felt like a brand.

“I’m smiling,” I said between clenched teeth.

“Not with your eyes.”

“Maybe that’s because I’m not actually happy, Lucien.”

His mouth curved just slightly. “Then pretend better.”

I turned away from him, taking a long sip from the crystal flute. The bubbles stung my throat. Everything about him stung. The indifference. The arrogance. The way he held the room like it belonged to him.

This marriage was a transaction. Fine. But he wasn’t going to break me just because my name had a price tag now.

“You’re good at this,” he said after a moment, his voice low enough only I could hear. “You play the game well.”

“Comes with being someone’s daughter instead of someone’s son,” I replied flatly. “We’re trained early.”

His expression didn’t change, but something flickered in his eyes. That ghost again. The one I sometimes glimpsed behind the ice.

“Careful,” he said. “I might start to think you have teeth.”

I turned to face him. “And what if I do?”

“Then maybe,” he murmured, stepping closer, “this marriage won’t be so boring after all.”

God help me—my pulse jumped.

I hated him.

But hating him didn’t stop my body from reacting to the heat in his voice.

The gala blurred after that. I danced with three CEOs, endured two offers to “chat privately,” and survived one champagne spill from a nervous assistant who stammered apologies while staring at my cleavage.

I couldn’t find Lucien.

And that made me uneasy.

When I finally did find him, it was in a shadowed hallway, speaking with a tall man in a navy suit. The conversation stopped the moment I turned the corner. Both men looked at me.

Lucien’s eyes darkened.

“Ivy,” he said, dismissing the other man with a glance. The stranger bowed slightly and vanished, like mist.

“Friend of yours?” I asked.

“Business,” Lucien replied. “Everything in this world is business.”

I tilted my head. “Even marriage?”

He stepped closer. “Especially marriage.”

I wanted to slap him.

I also wanted to kiss him.

That scared me more than anything.

“Why do you hate me so much?” I whispered.

He blinked. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

He leaned in, his breath brushing my cheek. “You think hate is the opposite of love?” he said. “It’s not. It’s indifference.”

“Then what’s this?”

He looked at me like I was a puzzle he hadn’t meant to solve. His voice was a rasp. “This is dangerous.”

Before I could respond, he turned and walked down the hall.

I followed him.

I didn’t know why.

We ended up outside, on a stone balcony overlooking the Blackwood gardens. The night air was crisp. The stars, like frozen tears.

“I’m not your enemy,” I said quietly. “I didn’t ask for this either.”

Lucien’s back was to me. “But you signed it.”

“No,” I said. “My father did.”

He turned then, slowly, and looked at me in that way he always did—like he was trying to decide if I was worth his time or just another thing to conquer.

“You could’ve said no,” I added.

“So could you.”

I stepped toward him. “Why did you agree to this, Lucien?”

He didn’t answer.

So I kept going. “Was it really just about the patents? The name? The alliance?”

His eyes burned. “What do you want me to say, Ivy? That I married you because I saw something in you? That despite all your fire and stubbornness, I thought maybe you’d understand me better than anyone else ever could?”

His words stunned me.

Then he laughed once—dry, bitter. “Don’t flatter yourself. This was a move on a chessboard. Nothing more.”

I slapped him.

Hard.

The sound cracked in the night like a gunshot.

Lucien didn’t flinch. His cheek reddened, but he didn’t move.

“Are you finished?” he asked, voice icy.

But I wasn’t.

“No,” I snapped. “You don’t get to play both sides. You don’t get to look at me like I matter, kiss me like I’m oxygen, and then act like I’m disposable. I am not your pawn, Lucien. I never was.”

His eyes flared with something I didn’t understand—something dark, hungry, furious.

Then he grabbed me.

And kissed me.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet.

It was a war.

His hands cupped my face, fingers tangling in my hair as his mouth claimed mine. There was nothing polite about it. Nothing practiced or careful.

It was heat and hunger and rage. All the words we hadn’t said. All the tension we’d swallowed. It exploded between us like fire through glass.

I kissed him back.

Because I couldn’t not.

Because somewhere inside me, something had cracked open and begged for this.

His body pressed mine against the cold stone. I gasped, and he swallowed the sound, one hand sliding down my spine like he owned it.

I should’ve pulled away.

But I wanted to burn.

When we finally broke apart, gasping, our foreheads pressed together, the silence was louder than the music drifting from the ballroom.

I couldn’t breathe.

Neither could he.

His voice was rough. “Tell me you hated that.”

I stared at him. “I hated you. Not that.”

He leaned closer. “This changes everything.”

I shoved him back, shaking. “No. It doesn’t.”

He stared at me. “You’re lying.”

I turned on my heel and walked away, my legs unsteady, my lips swollen, my heart thundering in my chest like a storm was coming.

Because maybe it was.

And maybe his kiss was just the warning shot.

I didn’t make it past the hallway before I saw her.

A woman.

Long legs. Black dress. Glossed lips. Leaning against the wall like she’d been there all night. Watching.

And Lucien…

He walked right past me.

To her.

My stomach turned to ice.

She tilted her head. Smiled at him like she knew him. Like she belonged to him.

Lucien didn’t smile back. But he didn’t look away either.

He just stood there.

Silent.

Watching me watch him.

And in that moment, I realized something I hadn’t dared believe.

I wasn’t the first.

And if I wasn’t careful…

I’d be the next woman he ruined.