Gejagter Schmetterling – Ein Käfig aus Gold und Thronen

"Bend over."

The words hung in the air like smoke, curling around Marie's consciousness with an intoxicating weight that made her knees buckle. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stood before the massive desk, her skin still prickling from the feel of his gaze on her. She stood frozen, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths as she processed what he'd just commanded.

The afternoon Miami sun streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting golden rays across half-finished canvases and paint-splattered drop cloths, but her attention was fixed entirely on the man before her. The scent of turpentine and expensive cologne hung in the air of the studio, a heady mix that was pure Lucas Nicolas.

Lucas stood beside his desk, his dark hair slightly disheveled, those piercing blue eyes locked onto her with an intensity that made her feel like prey caught in a predator's gaze. His neatly trimmed stubble framed a jaw that clenched with barely restrained tension. He towered over her frame and the way he looked at her made her forget every rational thought she'd ever had. 

"Wh-what?" she eventually stammered, her voice emerging as little more than a whisper.

Lucas didn't repeat himself. Instead, he shrugged off his black leather jacket and tossed it carelessly onto his chair, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he moved. Marie's gaze betrayed her, drifting downward to the unmistakable outline straining against his dark jeans. Her mouth went dry.

"You want it, Marie, don’t you?" he asked, his voice a low rumble that sent vibrations straight to her core. 

There was no uncertainty in his tone, only a dark, knowing confidence that made her feel utterly exposed. His eyes, usually so sharp and dismissive, now burning with a raw, unmistakable hunger. He watched her, his gaze tracing the path her eyes had just taken.

Her eyes snapped back up to meet his. The corner of his mouth twitched, not quite a smile, but something far more dangerous. He knew exactly what she was thinking.

"Bend over and let me in. You ask for it," he persisted, his tone brooking no argument. 

Nicolas pulled his cufflinks off one by one, the small clicks echoing in the quiet room, and methodically rolled up his sleeves, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms, lightly dusted with dark hair.

Marie's legs moved before her mind could catch up. A terrifying shiver ran down her spine as she placed her palms flat against the cool and bent over for him, presenting herself like an offering. The world narrowed to the feeling of his presence behind her, the heat of his body radiating across her skin.

Flashes of the night before filled her head, a dizzying carousel of images. The taste of his whiskey on his lips, the scrape of his stubble against her thighs, the way he had growled her name as he laid her down into the mattress, his hands on her lower back, his breath hot against her neck.

Her forbidden obsession had not disappointed. If anything, he'd exceeded every fantasy she'd constructed over the past ten years, every stolen glance, every secret dream she'd buried deep in her heart. If she'd been looking for reasons why Lucas Nicolas wasn't the right man to obsess over for another decade, entangling with him had been the wrong call entirely. It had only poured gasoline on the fire.

"This is what you want, right?" he asked again, a slight edge creeping into his voice as his hands slid beneath the hem of her skirt, bunching the fabric higher. His fingers traced the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, moving higher with deliberate slowness.

"Nicolas…" Marie breathed, instantly going weak in the knees. A shiver cascaded down her spine and she gripped the edge of the desk tighter.

"Answer me, Marie," he whispered in his husky voice, his lips brushing against her cheek as his arm wrapped around her middle, his strong hand splaying flat against her stomach, pulling her back against him.

She was drowning in him and she had no desire to resurface. She didn’t answer with words. Instead, she turned her head, capturing his lips in a searing kiss that was more demanding than pleas. Her legs wrapped around his waist without a second thought as he spun her around, her back hitting the desk. 

She pulled him down onto her, their bodies colliding as they claimed each other's lips readily, opening up for one another like lovers do, their hands pulling at each other's shirts, desperate for skin. As his lips travelled down her neck, his hands grabbing through the thin fabric of her top, she bit down on her own lip, willing herself to be quiet. But a low, desperate moan escaped her.

“Please, Nicolas. Don’t stop. I want you," she whimpered.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to do this," he growled

Her mind reeled. He had thought about her?

Being the daughter of the wealthy Allen family meant no one expected her to have a brain. She was just a pretty arm-candy. Her brother, Andrew, was her idol, not just because he was a brilliant businessman, but because he had carved his own path, taking the reins of the family’s Miami empire. 

Marie just wanted to make her brother proud and prove she was more than just a spoiled brat he thought she was. But all she had ever been to the world was a "brat" who needed a babysitter all the time.

A couple of months back, she would never have imagined she'd end up here, bent over the desk of the art world's most notorious bad boy, her body aching for him with an intensity that bordered on madness.

All this started a month back…

Marie was lying on her bed in her brother's Miami penthouse. She was supposed to be studying, scrolling through her phone and desperately trying to ignore the vivid Nicolas dream that had plagued her sleep

Dreams of him.

"Marie! Get down here right now!" Andrew's voice echoed up the staircase, sounding far too energetic for a Monday morning. 

Marie groaned, pushing the completely inappropriate thoughts out of her head and shoved her phone under her pillow, pressing her palms against her flushed cheeks.

“Get a grip, Marie, stop it,” she told herself. "I'm coming!" she yelled back, smoothing down her oversized t-shirt before rushing downstairs.

"What's going on?" she asked, looking between Andrew and his laptop.

Andrew looked up, his face split in a grin. He threw an arm around her shoulder, pulling her into a crushing side-hug. "Better than anything you could imagine! I just got a massive project, a new development deal that’s going to take me across three states for the next several months.”

Marie’s jaw dropped. “Months? You’re leaving Miami for months?” The excitement hit her first, but then a wave of panic crashed down. "Wait... what about me? My classes? My exams are coming up.”

Andrew's expression softened. "We've already worked it out, sweetheart. Mom and dad are in Texas and we know you can't just drop everything in your first year. So, you’re staying back.”

"Alone? In this huge house?" Marie blinked. 

"Absolutely not," Andrew said firmly. "We wouldn't even dream of leaving you without supervision. You’re a brat, Marie, and you need to be taken care of. I talked to Nicolas. He has that massive house overlooking the bay and he agreed to look after you, until I get back.”

Marie's heart stopped. "Nicolas? As in... your Nicolas? Your best friend? The painter?"

"The very one," Andrew said, completely oblivious to the fact that his sister's internal organs were currently melting. “He’s got tons of space, his security is top-notch and he’s like a brother to me. I trust him with my life. He'll keep you out of trouble.”

A wicked, reckless spark ignited deep in Marie's chest. ‘Safe’ was the last word that came to mind when she thought of Lucas Nicolas. The man whose wild, evocative paintings sold for millions, whose personal life was just as messy and scandalous. Her mind immediately conjured images of his broad shoulders, his cold and unreadable stares, the dangerous quiet power he carried with effortless grace.

For six years, she had harbored a silent, desperate crush on him since she had first laid eyes on him at one of Andrew's parties. She'd hidden it behind polite smiles and careful distance, convinced he only saw her as his best friend's little sister. But now Andrew was practically delivering her to his front door.

"But why him?" Marie managed to ask, fighting to keep her voice steady. "What about staying on campus? Or with a friend? Or with Aunt Stacy?"

Andrew shook his head. "No way. You need someone looking after you, so you can’t stay on campus alone. Then Aunt Stacy’s condo is way too small and you know it. When I asked Nicolas, he said he'd be happy to have you. He's always been fond of you, Marie.”

“Fond! Right. Like a responsibility. Like Andrew's bratty little sister who needed to be babysat.” She made a face with the thought. 

But then a different thought which was dangerous, thrilling and entirely wicked began to take root in her mind. Her pulse started to beat to a wild rhythm.

Staying with Nicolas.

Living under his roof.

All those years of unrequited fantasy, all those forbidden feelings locked away in the deepest part of her heart and now, her own brother was practically delivering her to his front door.

"Marie? You okay? You look a little pale," Andrew frowned. 

She forced a smile. "Fine. I'm fine. Just... surprised."

"So it's settled. We start packing your things tonight. You move into Nicolas's place next week," Andrew said cheerfully, pulling Marie from her spiraling thoughts. 

Next week. 

Seven days.

Marie's breath hitched. Seven days until she'd be living with the man she'd spent a decade obsessing over. This was her shot. Her desperate heart had just been handed the keys to her ultimate fantasy and she was going to take it.

No matter how dangerous the game might become.