Chapter 6 : Foolish Handsome Harry

Lucia’s POV

"We need to talk, Lucia," he whispered again, and I caught the bitter scent of desperation and stale champagne on his breath. The dim light in the hall couldn't blur the sharp, predatory glint in his eyes.

My mind seethed with a thousand violent impulses, each one more tempting than the last. It wasn't fear that pinned me motionless—it was strategy. Sure, I could hurt him where it counted or fight my way to freedom and cause a scene, but the satisfaction would be fleeting and small compared to the larger devastation I had planned for him.

Slowly, deliberately, Harry removed his hand from my mouth hoping I wouldn't scream.

I took even longer, a slow, deliberate show of disdain, peeling his fingers from my arm one by one. The silence between us was heavy and strained, the only noise the far-off, muffled drone of the party still in full swing close by.

"There's nothing we need to talk about, Harry," I said to him, my voice low, flat, and cutting—a knife wrapped in velvet. I stared him straight in the eye with frigid detachment, letting him find no anger, no fear, no spark—nothing but a dead, impenetrable calm.

His face flashed with confusion. He hadn't expected that. He'd expected that I'd scream, or beg for space like a damsel in distress. My composure rattled him, and it was a joy to see.".

"Lucia, what the hell are you doing with my boss? We've only been divorced for what? Six months and you're engaged to him, don't you have any shame?" Harry snarled, puffed up with a false sense of authority so absurd I felt almost sorry for him.

I couldn't help myself—a laugh ripped from me, ugly and wild. The audacity of this man, to act as if he had any right to question my decision to move on after everything he'd done to me.

His eyes searched the hallway, desperately seeking someone to stand with him, to validate the growing humiliation burning his cheeks. "What is so funny, Lucia? I ask legitimate questions and you respond by laughing in my face."

I shook my head slowly in amazement at the pitiful creature before me. "Damn! You are as dumb as a rock. How in the hell did I ever fall for an idiot like yourself?"

The words sliced through the stagnant air between us. Harry opened his mouth, no doubt ready to launch into some stilted diatribe, but I cut him off before he could even gain a toehold.

"It seems you've forgotten what you did to me, Harry. The way you had me sign divorce papers and tossed me out of our house in the middle of the night, in a rainstorm. Have you forgotten that?"

The accusation hit him straight in the chest. His eyes dropped, shame waltzing across his features like a ghost he couldn't seem to rid himself of.

"Is that why you crawled out of whatever pit you've been sulking in for over six months to be with my boss, and to hurt me, huh?" Harry snarled, his voice dripping with bitterness.

I laughed again, low and lethal, and took a step closer to him. He tensed instinctively.

"Oh, foolish handsome Harry, this is so not about you. Your boss is just more of a man than you can ever be. He is a hundred times better than you, I couldn't resist him. Do you know he is actually huge down there that I have never felt so full in my life?"

The lie fell from my tongue like silk. In truth, Ezra and I hadn't gotten that far yet. But watching the disgust and defeat mark itself on Harry's face was nothing less than intoxicating.

Harry stumbled forward in an awkward step, anger and desperation wrestling in his posture. I responded by taking an equally simple step backward, keeping the smirk on my lips like armor.

"Can we just. talk? Away from him, away from here, just us?" he asked, waving vaguely toward the party.

My eyes narrowed, voice cold enough to frost glass. "Away from my fiancé? The man who respects me, who values me and satisfies me? Why would I want to do that, Harry?"

I hit the words "fiancé" and "satisfies" with pointed emphasis, watching them land like blows he couldn't dodge.

Lines of frustration formed around his mouth. "Don't do this, Lucia. Don't pretend you're into him. This is just revenge, isn't it?"

"Revenge can be so satisfying, Harry," I mused, a genuine smile tugging at the corners of my mouth. "But this isn't revenge. No, this is me just living my new life and enjoying every second of it."

He flinched, a small but satisfying reaction. He had no defense against this version of me—the one he'd created but never thought would survive him.

"What do you want, Lucia?" he asked finally, desperation creeping into his tone like a wound he couldn't hide.

"What I want. Hell must be freezing over for you to be worried about such things," I whispered, my voice dipping to a whisper that was sharp enough to slice bone. "But since you asked, I want you to witness me thrive. See the trash you threw away become the diamond that will shine so brightly it blinds your eyes. And trust me, Harry, this party is just the beginning of your lesson—you'll have a lot more to learn. Your hell has only begun."

Before he could summon another pathetic excuse for a reply, a familiar voice drifted down the hall, cutting through the heavy air.

"Lucia! Everything alright, babe?" Ezra’s voice—steady, commanding, concerned.

I turned toward him, my smile blooming wide and genuine. "Everything's perfect, darling. Just catching up with an old acquaintance."

I let the word "old" dangle deliberately, twisting the knife.

Ezra emerged from the shadows at the far end of the corridor, tall and unruffled, his piercing blue gaze taking in the scene at a glance. He did not need to speak threats aloud—his presence was threat enough.

"Mr. Stone," Ezra said softly, voice polite but with a steel undertone. "I hope all is well here?"

Harry quailed before him, his bluster collapsing under the weight of reality. "Yes, Mr. Lyon. Just. congratulating your wife-to-be, Sir."

The lie hung embarrassingly between us, feeble and absurd.

"How very kind of you," Ezra responded slickly, slipping a possessive arm around my waist. The gesture was subtle but unmistakable: she's mine.

"Now, if you'll excuse us, my fiancée and I were enjoying ourselves at the party."

With that, Ezra turned us away from Harry, leading me back toward the golden lights and glittering luxury of the ballroom. I could feel Harry's eyes burning into my back, weighted with rage and helplessness.

"Is everything all right, Lucia?" Ezra questioned low as we walked.

I settled into him, finding comfort in the constant refuge of his presence. A warmth bloomed in my chest, solid and sure.

"Everything is perfect. Absolutely perfect," I breathed. "Everything, as we planned, is going exactly as expected. I'll fill you in when we get home."