Chapter 5: The Temptation of Control

Ella’s POV

I froze at the knock.

My fingers were still pressed to my flushed cheeks, my breath uneven, my body betraying everything I wished I could undo. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating—until his voice slid through the door.

“Ella…”

Low. Smooth. Certain.

“I know exactly what you were doing,” Lucian said quietly. “Don’t insult me by pretending you can hide it.”

My stomach twisted. I pressed my back to the door, as if distance might protect me from the truth of his words.

“It’s not—” My voice cracked. I swallowed and tried again. “It’s not what you think.”

A slow chuckle followed. Unhurried. Confident. Dangerous.

“Oh, it’s exactly what I think,” he said. “You watched. You stayed. And now you’re standing there pretending you’re still the same woman who walked these halls an hour ago.”

My pulse pounded in my ears. I hated that he was right. I hated that he could hear it in my silence.

“Tell me,” he continued softly, closer now, intimate in a way that made my skin prickle. “Did it excite you…or are you still lying to yourself?”

I crossed the room, pressing myself against the far wall, as if I could anchor myself there.

“I shouldn’t answer that,” I whispered.

“You shouldn’t feel it either,” he replied. “But you do.”

My legs trembled—not from fear alone, but from the strain of holding myself together. “I don’t know,” I said, and for once it was the truth.

His voice lowered, satisfied. “Good. Uncertainty is where people become interesting.”

Before I could respond, another voice echoed down the corridor.

“Lucian?”

The interruption snapped the tension like a wire pulled too tight.

He exhaled sharply. “Passing through,” he called back, annoyance threading his tone. Then, quieter—meant only for me—“This isn’t finished.”

Footsteps faded.

Only then did I realize I’d been holding my breath.

I sank onto the edge of the bed, my heart still racing, my body buzzing with the aftermath. I didn’t feel relief. I felt suspended—caught between what I knew was dangerous and what I couldn’t stop wanting to understand.

A proper knock followed. Clean. Controlled.

The Chairman’s secretary stood outside, composed and unreadable. “Ella Monroe. The Chairman would like to see you.”

The walk to his office felt surreal, as if the house itself had shifted around me. The Chairman studied me carefully once I stood before him.

“Tell me,” he said evenly, “why did you help me?”

The question was simple. The weight behind it was not.

“I saw someone who needed help,” I said, forcing steadiness into my voice. “I didn’t think about anything else.”

He watched me for a long moment, then nodded. “That kind of instinct is rare here.” He turned to his secretary. “She will stay. Fully. Reward her.”

My chest tightened—not just with relief, but with the realization that I had stepped deeper into this world than I intended.

The introductions came quickly. Faces blurred together. Titles. Rules. Expectations. By the time I was dismissed to change for dinner, my head was spinning.

On the way back, I saw them.

The same women from earlier—leaving Lucian’s room with easy smiles, slipping out through the back like nothing had happened. Further down the corridor, other doors opened. Other women emerged. Different men. Same quiet pattern.

This house didn’t hide its indulgences. It normalized them.

The thought unsettled me.

When I reached my room and opened the door, my breath caught.

Lucian was sitting on my bed, relaxed, unapologetic, as though my space had never been mine to begin with.

“I wondered when you’d notice,” he said calmly. “Did you enjoy what you saw earlier?”

My stomach flipped. I stepped inside slowly, forcing my spine straight.

“Lucian,” I said, holding up a hand. “You shouldn’t be here.”

He studied me with open amusement. “You keep saying that,” he replied. “Yet here I am.”

“I’m asking you to leave.” Polite. Measured. Controlled—at least on the surface.

He stood, closing the distance with deliberate ease. “You’re curious,” he said softly. “And curiosity is a form of consent people don’t like admitting to.”

“That’s not true,” I said quickly.

“Isn’t it?”

His hand caught my waist before I could move. The pull was sudden enough to knock the breath from me. I resisted, instinctively, but momentum betrayed me. I fell back onto the bed, heart hammering, body rigid with tension.

He hovered above me—not touching further, not yet. Close enough that I could feel his heat, his presence overwhelming my senses.

“You don’t belong to this world,” he murmured. “That’s what makes you interesting.”

My eyes closed before I could stop myself. Not because I wanted surrender—but because I couldn’t endure the anticipation.

Seconds passed.

Nothing happened.

I opened my eyes.

Lucian had stepped away, standing near the door, watching me with a slow, knowing smile.

“That,” he said lightly, “was a lesson.”

Before I could speak—before I could demand what kind—he left.

The door clicked shut.

I lay there, shaken, my heart still racing, my thoughts in disarray. He hadn’t kissed me. Hadn’t crossed the final line.

But he’d proven something far more dangerous.

He didn’t need to touch me to control the moment.

And worst of all—I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to escape that control…or understand it.