The Price Of The Cursed Fate

“I asked you something,” Noora said, voice taut. “What do you mean?”

Luciano didn’t answer. His eyes stayed locked on hers, challenging, unblinking.

And then—

Deliberately, he began unbuttoning his shirt.

Noora’s brows furrowed. “Wh—what the hell do you think you're doing?” she barked, voice rising with panic. “Stop!”

But he didn’t.

“Eyes up, sweetheart,” he said coolly. “I thought you weren’t afraid to face your actions and the consequences.”

One by one, the buttons slipped free until his chest was bare…smooth, sculpted, and much too close.

Her breath caught as her gaze flicked down, before she forced herself to look away in disgust.

“What are you trying to prove?!” she snapped.

Luciano leaned in slowly, placing his palms on either side of her head, caging her in. She sank into the pillow instinctively, heart hammering.

“Do you recognize this?” he asked with a dangerous glint in his eyes.

“I... I don’t—” she mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

His hand gripped her jaw, turning her head back. “Look closer,” he whispered, voice brushing her skin like velvet and poison. “Maybe it'll come back to you.”

And it did.

Like a floodgate breaking, images surged into her mind.

Unwelcome and wild.

Her arms around him.

Her teeth on his skin.

Her moans, unfiltered, shameful.

She had been clinging to him… begging him.

Her mouth was on his chest, his neck.

She had marked him.

Noora’s face flushed in horror.

Luciano’s smirk widened. “There it is. You remember now. You—biting me, begging, dragging your lips down my chest—”

“STOP!” she cried out, turning her face to the side as if she could shake the memory away. Her hands clenched the sheets as shame clawed at her insides.

“What you left behind on my body, wasn't just a scratch, Noora. It was a mark on a Richardson’s body!” He leaned closer, his voice a growl near her ear. “And do you know how much it costs?”

She looked up at him with eyes burning in humiliation and fury. “You bastard,” she spat. “You knew I was DRUGGED! I wasn’t in my senses! How can I even trust that you didn’t take advantage of me?!”

Luciano pulled back slightly, then threw his head back in a slow, rich chuckle as if she’d just made the most absurd joke in history.

“If I had taken advantage of you,” he said darkly, dragging his fingers teasingly down the edge of the blanket toward her thigh while whispering wickedly, “you wouldn’t be walking today.”

Her entire body stiffened. Her cheeks burned.

Disgust.

Fear.

Something she didn’t want to name coiled in her gut.

She turned her face away again, cursing herself for the betrayal of her own traitorous curiosity. ‘What would’ve happened if he complie…?’ No. She didn’t want to know.

“What do you want now?” she ground out through clenched teeth.

Luciano shrugged, casual in a way that made her blood boil.

“Oh, nothing much,” he said, stepping back just a little. “Just… what you did to me. That’s all.”

Noora’s breath hitched. “What?”

He clicked his tongue mockingly. “‘Tit for tat’, Noora.”

Her eyes widened in disbelief. “What the hell does that mean?!”

“I mean,” he said slowly, deliberately, as if tasting the power in every word, “I’ll consider it settled… if you let me leave the same marks on your chest.”

Noora stared at him, eyes wide, chest rising and falling with ragged breath.

The world around her spun; fuzzy and unreal. His voice still echoed in her ears, but she couldn’t believe it. Wouldn’t believe it.

“No,” she whispered, then louder, firmer, “NOOO! That’s impossible!”

Luciano tilted his head, amused by her panic. “Is it?”

“YOU SICK BASTARD!!” she screamed, her voice cracking with rage. “You think I’d ever let you touch me? You think I’d let you MARK me like some kind of possession?!”

He said nothing. Just stood there, calm as ice, the corner of his mouth twitching as if entertained by her fury.

And something in her snapped.

Without thinking, Noora grabbed the porcelain vase from the nearby shelf and hurled it at him with all her strength. It flew fast, aimed straight for his face.

He didn’t move.

The vase shattered against his cheekbone with a sickening crack. Shards rained to the floor, and for a split second, silence swallowed the room.

A slow, crimson trickle slid down the side of his jaw.

Noora froze.

He touched the blood with his thumb, inspecting it like it was nothing more than a smudge of dirt. And then… he laughed.

Not a soft chuckle this time, but a low, menacing, almost feral laugh that sent a chill slithering down her spine.

“Now you’ve done it,” he murmured.

His voice was eerily calm, void of all pretense.

“I was letting you off easy,” he continued, his eyes gleaming like embers in a storm. “But you… you’ve got a special talent for pissing me off, don’t you?”

She took a step back but it was already too late.

Luciano surged forward, grabbing a fistful of her hair and yanking her head back. Noora gasped, struggling against the pain, the sudden closeness, the scent of his blood mixing with his cologne.

“You have two choices,” he hissed into her ear, his breath scorching her skin. “Either give me what I asked… or disappear.”

Noora trembled in his grip. Her heart raced, caught between defiance and fear.

“Leave this country. Erase your name. Pay back everything you owe the Richardson family. EVERYTHING!!” His voice was low, lethal. “And VANISH. FAR ENOUGH THAT I NEVER FIND YOU AGAIN.”

His grip tightened.

“Because if I do… the next time you see me…WILL BE YOUR WORST FUCKING NIGHTMARE, LOVE.”

His voice softened, almost mournful. “I’ve been so patient with you, Noora. My whole damn life.” Then it snapped again, jagged and raw, “But my patience has run dry.”

His nose brushed against her neck, lips barely grazing her skin as he inhaled like he was starving for her scent.

She wanted to recoil, to scream, but her body was trapped between hatred and horror

“If you hate me so much,” she choked out, “why do you want to TOUCH ME?! Why not just stay away?! What’s the point of all this? Why keep hurting me like this—WHY DO YOU WANT TO BE NEAR ME JUST TO DESTROY ME?!”

Lucian exhaled a laugh against her skin, twisted and fevered. “Oh, love,” he groaned, “you have no idea how you undo me. I despise how much I want you. I want to destroy you just to be free from you.”

His hand slid down, not touching, but hovering, close enough to steal the air from her lungs. “I WANT TO RUIN YOU SO THOROUGHLY NO ONE— ‘NO ONE’ WILL DARE TRY TO PUT YOU BACK TOGETHER.”

He wanted to bite her. To brand her. To devour her until nothing was left but the pieces he owned.

“You drive me insane,” he growled against her skin. “And I hate how much your existence drives me crazy.”

His hands trembled, not with weakness, but with something darker, more dangerous. Desire laced with hatred. Possession poisoned by pain.

“But why?!” she screamed. “Why me, Lucian?! What did I ever do to deserve this?!”

That shattered something in him.

“You don’t deserve to know,” he spat, eyes gleaming with venom. “Just curse YOUR FUCKING FATE. Curse the day your mother MARRIED into the Richardson name!”

His voice cracked like a whip in the room, yet in his eyes, something unspoken warred beneath the surface.

A madness. A craving. A past.

The room went still. The silence was deafening.

Luciano stared at her for one last breathless moment before releasing her, letting her stumble back, gasping for air.

He straightened his shirt, wiped the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand, and turned toward the door.

“At nine,” he said coldly, without looking back. “Come to my room. With whatever you choose.”