CHAPTER FOUR

Lucien’s POV

Vanessa’s hand was trembling when it wrapped around the edge of my suit. “Lucien… are you sure about this?” Her voice was low, anxious.

I shouldn’t have come. I knew that. Meeting her in that private lounge, barely two days into my forced marriage to Zara, was foolish. But I needed air — air that didn’t smell like her perfume or drip with her arrogance.

Vanessa looked like home — soft curls pinned up, beige silk blouse, no games. She hadn’t cried today, but I could see the heaviness in her eyes. The last time we spoke, she was sobbing into my chest, asking how I could do this to her. I had no answers.

“She’s poison, Lucien,” Vanessa said, her voice firm now. “You think you can tame her, but that girl’s a storm in stilettos. She’ll burn your world to the ground and dance on its ashes.”

I opened my mouth to respond — to tell her I had everything under control — but that’s when I felt it. That eerie awareness. Like a knife against my spine.

I turned.

And there she was.

Zara.

Standing at the edge of the lounge entrance, dressed in deep emerald satin and black heels that clicked like a warning bell. Her hair fell in wild curls, her lips painted blood red. But it wasn’t her beauty that made the world stop.

It was her expression.

Blank.

Cold.

Like a goddess of war who’d seen betrayal so many times, it no longer shocked her.

Our eyes met. She held my gaze, then flicked her eyes to Vanessa — scanned her from head to toe with that deadly smirk of hers — and walked away.

Didn’t say a word.

Didn’t cause a scene.

Just walked away.

And somehow… that made it worse.

Zara’s POV

The laughter I heard from the lounge stopped the moment I stepped in. But it was too late — I’d already seen enough.

All soft pink and helpless eyes. The perfect little girlfriend waiting for Lucien to realize I’m just a spoiled nightmare he has to survive.

I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream.

Instead, I walked back to the car like I felt nothing.

But inside?

Inside, I burned.

For the first time in years, something cracked in my chest. And I hated that it was because of him. That man was supposed to be the enemy. A pawn. An inconvenience. So why did it feel like someone had poured acid down my throat?

No one saw me when I walked into the ballroom.

They were too distracted — with music, wine, and gossip.

Perfect.

The dinner was hosted by one of my father’s allies, and I wasn’t going to waste this opportunity.

If Lucien wanted to play disrespect? I’d burn the whole damn table.

I walked to the bar, leaned forward, and let the straps of my dress slide slightly down my shoulder.

And just like that… he noticed me.

Tall. Dark. Italian accent.

New York-based financier and ruthless in the stock game. I remembered him from a fundraiser.

“Zara. You’re more stunning every time I see you,” he said with a cocky grin.

I didn’t even smile.

Instead, I stepped closer, let my fingertips brush his wrist. “Tell me, Adrian, do you always stare like that, or am I just special?”

He leaned in, drunk on the bait.

And then Lucien arrived.

Like a bullet.

Lucien’s POV

I saw the scene from the top of the stairs.

Her lips.

Her body language.

That man’s damn hand on the small of her back.

And something inside me snapped.

I didn’t speak.

I didn’t shout.

I marched across the hall like the floor owed me a favor and grabbed her arm.

“Lucien—” Adrian started.

“Touch her again,” I said calmly, “and I’ll break every finger you used.”

The whole room went quiet.

Zara looked at me with mock surprise. “Oh? Look who finally showed up to dinner.”

I didn’t answer. I just dragged her out.

Zara’s POV

His grip bruised. His face was thunder. But I didn’t care. I was still bleeding from what I saw earlier.

“You’re jealous,” I hissed.

“You’re out of control,” he snapped.

“You saw your little girl toy, and I should just sit still and smile?”

He shoved the car door open and threw me inside. Slammed it shut.

We rode in silence until the gates of his estate opened.

“Get out,” he said.

I didn’t move.

He stormed to my side, yanked the door open again, and I stepped out — slow, defiant, heels clicking like gunfire.

Inside, the mansion was quiet.

Until he spoke.

Lucien’s POV

“No scandal. No disrespect,” I said through clenched teeth. “You want to wear black veils and embarrass me, fine. But you will not flirt in public again. You will not touch other men. You’re my wife now. You belong to me.”

She tilted her head. “Possession. How quaint.”

I walked closer. “Keep pushing, Zara. Keep trying me. You’re used to men drooling at your feet. I don’t. I won’t.”

“Oh, you will,” she said.

And then she opened her dress.

Right there in the hallway.

Nothing underneath.

Perfect breasts. Full. Round. Teasing.

“Wouldn’t you want to touch this?” she whispered, stepping closer.

I clenched my fists.

My body responded — how could it not?

But I didn’t give her the satisfaction.

Instead, I grabbed her arm, pulled her toward the west wing, and opened the first door.

“Welcome to your room,” I growled. “You’ll stay here tonight. Alone.”

She sneered. “You think locking me up will break me?”

“I’m not done.”

I slammed the door shut and locked it.

“No food. No phone. You can scream all you want,” I said from the other side. “When you’re ready to behave like a wife — we’ll talk.”

Zara’s POV

I didn’t scream.

I laughed.

The sound echoed off the expensive walls.

“You want me to beg?” I shouted. “I’d rather die!”

I threw a vase against the door. It shattered.

And I collapsed on the floor, heart still bleeding, pride on fire.

But this was just the beginning.

He thinks this was a disaster?

Good.

I’m the storm.

And I’ve only just begun.

Lucien’s POV

I stayed outside her door longer than I should have.

I could still hear the echo of her voice.

“You want me to beg? I’d rather die!”

I expected rage.

I didn’t expect… pain.

And that pissed me off even more.

What was she trying to prove? That she could ruin me before I ever laid a hand on her? That her body was her weapon and she’d use it to bait me until I snapped?

She was fire. I was stone.

And yet—stones crack under heat, don’t they?

I walked back to my study, loosened my tie, and poured myself a double shot of bourbon. I barely sat when I heard it.

Moaning.

Loud. Wild. Her.

I stood. Slowly.

At first, I thought I imagined it — maybe it was in my head. Then it came again. A low, breathy whimper from the west wing.

My jaw clenched.

I opened the door to my study and followed the sound like a curse pulling me in.

She wasn’t crying.

She was moaning.

And when I stepped into the hallway outside her room — she was doing it on purpose.

Zara’s POV

I knew he could hear me.

The walls weren’t that thick.

I lay sprawled on the bed, legs parted, vibrator in hand — the red one, his favorite color. I’d lit a candle just to set the mood. Not for me. For him.

He thinks he can lock me up like a prisoner?

Cute.

I bit my lip as I turned the dial higher. My back arched. I pictured his face. Those cold, cruel eyes — the way his jaw tightened when he was furious. I imagined him watching me, fists clenched, hard and furious and helpless.

The orgasm came like a slap — fast, hot, and deliciously loud.

When I opened my eyes, the door was open.

He was standing there.

Watching.

Breathing hard.

My legs were still open, the toy buzzing lazily against my thigh. I didn’t cover up. I didn’t hide. I just smiled and licked my bottom lip.

“Did you enjoy the show, husband?”

Lucien’s POV

Her legs.

That wicked smile.

The sound of her moans still in my ears.

She was a devil.

And my body? That traitorous thing?

Rock hard.

I couldn’t speak. I just stared. I wanted to shout at her, to drag her out, to throw that damn toy out the window. But all I did… was look.

She laughed.

A rich, throaty sound.

Then she sat up, still gloriously naked, vibrator in hand.

“You don’t like sharing your toys?” she said, voice sweet with venom. “Touch me, Lucien. I dare you.”

I stepped back, slammed the door shut.

And didn’t sleep a damn second that night.

Zara’s POV

I lay in bed, smiling to myself.

He wanted me.

Badly.

But he didn’t touch me.

That made it worse for him — and better for me.

Because I was in control.

Or so I thought.

Next Morning — Lucien’s POV

I was halfway through my third coffee when the doorbell rang.

I told the maid to handle it, but she returned, hesitant.

“Sir… it’s Madam Vanessa.”

I froze.

“What?”

“She said she needs to speak to you. Urgently.”

God, no.

Not now.

I hadn’t even figured out what to do with the witch sleeping in the west wing.

I walked into the foyer and there she was — arms crossed, fury in her eyes.

“Lucien,” she said flatly.

“Vanessa, not here—”

“I warned you. I warned you about her.”

“What’s going on?”

She stepped closer, voice dropping. “She’s going to ruin you. I saw the pictures.”

I blinked. “What pictures?”

“Check your inbox.”

She turned and walked out without another word.

I opened my phone.

Clicked the link she sent.

And there it was.

Zara.

In the ballroom.

Too close to Adrian. His hand too low on her back. Her lips parted. His whisper in her ear.

The angle was damning.

And it was already on gossip blogs.

“Newlyweds or enemies? Billionaire Lucien Black’s bride gets cozy with another man on wedding night.”

My blood ran cold.

Zara’s POV

I walked into the dining room wearing silk.

Nothing else.

The maids stared. I didn’t care.

Lucien was reading the news on his phone, eyes dark, brows low.

“What’s wrong, husband?” I said, grabbing a peach from the table. “Bad press already?”

He threw the phone on the table. “You’re a disgrace.”

I bit into the peach and let the juice drip down my fingers.

He stood, fury radiating off him.

“You embarrassed me in public. You disrespected me again.”

“Adrian touched me,” I said slowly, “because you touched Vanessa.”

His jaw twitched.

“You don’t love her,” I added, circling him. “You just want someone soft. Someone who’ll cry and wait and ask how high when you say jump.”

I stopped in front of him. “That’s not me.”

“I know,” he growled. “You’re chaos.”

“No,” I whispered, placing his hand against my breast, “I’m your chaos.”

He pulled away like my skin burned him.

“You’re lucky I haven’t thrown you out yet.”

I smirked. “You couldn’t if you tried.”

He stormed out.

I sat in his chair and finished his coffee.

Lucien’s POV

She’d dragged me into a public mess and dared to touch me in my own house like I was her toy.

I opened the safe in my study.

Pulled out the file.

The one with her name on it.

Zara Monroe.

Her secrets.

Her past.

And a photograph… one I hadn’t shown anyone yet.

Not even her.

If she thinks I won’t use it… she doesn’t know who she married.

Zara’s POV

Later that night, a letter slid under my door.

No name.

Just a red wax seal.

I opened it.

Inside was a photo.

A man.

Dead.

And a single sentence:

I stared at the photo.

Blood drained from my face.

He knew.

Lucien knew.

And if this was his opening move…

What the hell would his endgame look like?