2. Welcome to His World

The morning air at Miami International Airport was thick with humidity and unshed tears. Marie stood on the curb, her arms wrapped tightly around her brother.

“I’ll miss you a lot.”

“I’ll miss you too. But don’t worry, I’ll drop by almost every week to surprise you and most importantly, be good for Nicolas and I mean actually good, Marie. Not your usual brand of chaos," Andrew murmured against her hair. 

She pulled back, mustering a watery smile. "When have I ever been anything but an angel?"

He snorted. "That's exactly what I'm afraid of. Nicolas has no idea what he's signed up for. I trust him with my life, squirt. Don't make me regret it."

The words echoed in her chest as she watched him walk through security, disappearing behind the glass doors. A strange cocktail of grief and anticipation swirled in her stomach. She was losing her brother to a project, but gaining access to the one man she'd been forbidden to want for six years.

The ride to Nicolas's estate was a blur of Miami's glittering skyline. But the second her cab pulled up to the massive gates, her tears dried up completely. The property was an architectural masterpiece. It was every bit as intimidating and beautiful as the man who lived there.

Marie stood on the porch, one hand resting on her suitcase handle and took a slow, steadying breath. She had waited six years for this moment. Thanks to Andrew's convenient business trip, she was going to be living under the same roof as Lucas Nicolas, the man who had haunted her dreams since she was old enough to understand what desire meant.

Game on.

The door swung open before she could knock.

Lucas Nicolas stood in the doorway and Marie felt the air leave her lungs in a rush. He was wearing a crisp black button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing the sculpted muscles that came from years of physical labor, both in his studio and on the illegal race tracks where he earned his dangerous reputation. 

His dark hair was artfully disheveled, as if he'd been running his fingers through it and his blue eyes that had haunted her dreams, found hers immediately. He looked powerful, dangerous and so devastatingly beautiful that her knees physically weakened.

"Marie, welcome," he said.

His deep voice sent a shiver cascading down her spine, settling somewhere low in her belly. She had imagined this moment a thousand times, had rehearsed a hundred different greetings, but standing here now, with his intense gaze fixed on her, every prepared line evaporated.

"Hi, Nicolas," she managed, summoning her most practiced, confident smile. "Thanks for letting me crash here. I promise I won't be too much trouble."

His lips quirked, a ghost of a smile that did dangerous things to her insides. He reached down to take her suitcase, his fingers brushing against hers in the process. Marie's breath caught in her throat as Nicolas paused, his eyes dropping to their hands before slowly rising to scan her face. His gaze narrowed slightly, those blue eyes darkening in a way that made her heart stutter.

He took a half-step forward, completely invading her space. "You've... grown up, Marie," he murmured. His gaze deliberately traced the curve of her neck down to the swell of her waist before snapping back to her eyes. "You're not the kid who used to follow Andrew around anymore."

Her heart leaped into her throat, pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it. “He noticed. Oh my God! It's working!”

But then he cleared his throat, stepped back and the moment shattered. "I'll show you to your room. You must be exhausted."

He led her through the sprawling mansion. Every surface was curated with expensive art on the walls, sleek Italian furniture, floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked the glittering bay. It smelled like him - sandalwood, turpentine and something darker, muskier.

"The guest wing is down this hall," he said, stopping at a door. "My studio is on the opposite side of the house. I work odd hours, so you won't be disturbed and Marie, there’re things which I’ll appreciate you not to invade, so keep yourself till the guest wing only. Do not sneak around without my permission."

She nodded, keeping her expression innocent. He studied her for a long moment, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. Then he nodded once and walked away, leaving her standing in the doorway of a room that was beautiful but utterly impersonal. 

Marie dropped her suitcase on the floor and flopped onto the massive bed, staring up at the ceiling. But then she remembered the way his gaze had lingered on her body, the way his voice had dropped when he said her name, the electricity that had snapped between their fingers or was that just her imagination?

Later that evening, the rich scent of garlic and herbs drifted down the hall. Marie paused at the top of the stairs, her brow furrowing. 

“Can he cook? Of course he can. The man is infuriatingly perfect.”

She followed it to the kitchen, trying to look completely casual. She found Nicolas standing at the stove, stirring something in a pan with his back to her. The way his black t-shirt hugged the broad expanse of his shoulders made her mouth go dry.

“Marie. Stop it!” she scolded herself in mind before speaking out loud, keeping her voice light, "Smells amazing.”

He turned instantly, a warm smile on his face that did absolutely nothing to calm her racing heart. "Marie! Perfect timing. Dinner's almost ready. I hope you like Bolognese."

"I love Bolognese," she whispered, fighting the urge not to stare at his sharp jaw line and the way his throat moved when he swallowed.

They sat at his massive glass dining table, a bottle of expensive red wine between them. He played the part of the perfect guardian flawlessly. He asked about her classes, her plans, her goals, whether she needed anything. 

"So, how is your first semester looking? You're rounding up your first papers at the university, right?" he asked, taking a slow sip of his wine.

"You know how it is," she said, picking at her pasta. "Just... a lot of changes all at once.”

He nodded, his gaze softening in a way that made her chest ache. "It's a massive adjustment. But you'll handle it. You've always been such a smart girl."

“Smart girl? See… Safe. Platonic. No hungry gazes now. He is treating me like a kid and I hate it.” She suppressed a sigh.

After dinner, he smoothly stopped her when she reached for the plates. "You're the guest, Marie. Go relax. I've got the dishes."

She started to protest, but he gave her a look and she found herself nodding, retreating to her room. But she couldn't sleep. She kept replaying the moment at the door, the way his eyes had traced her body. She wandered back toward the living area, hoping for a glass of water and froze at the top of the stairs.

Nicolas was standing in the foyer below, leaning casually against the banister and he wasn't alone. A woman was pressed against him, a stunning blonde in a tight yellow dress, her hands roaming his chest as she laughed up at him with a flirtatious smile. 

Marie couldn't hear the words, but she could read the body language perfectly. Nicolas's hand was on the woman's hip. He was letting her touch him. Her stomach twisted. She bit her bottom lip, desperately wishing the woman would disappear and hoping Nicolas would push her away. But he didn't. 

Her chest tightened. After all, she knew who he was. 

Lucas Nicolas, the bad boy of the art world. A name the art world whispered with equal parts reverence and scandal. The most talented painter of his generation, the most desired man in every room he entered and the most notorious bad boy Miami had ever seen. 

His exhibitions sold out within hours. His bikes, the illegal ones he raced through the Miami streets at midnight, were legendary and his reputation with women was even more so. He had a different woman on his arm every night. He didn't do relationships. He didn't do love. Love was bullshit to him. He did pleasure, pure and simple, and he did it well. 

She retreated to her room, a toxic mix of frustration and disappointment burning in her chest. She flopped onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, her mind spinning.

She remembered the first time she'd seen him, Andrew had brought his best friend home for winter break and Nicolas had walked into the Allen mansion with his dark hair and his piercing eyes and that cocky smirk that made every girl in the room forget how to breathe. Marie had been a gangly teenager and he'd ruffled her hair and called her a ‘kid’. 

Marie had immediately formed a crush on him, watching him from her brother's side at family gatherings, sneaking glances when she thought no one was looking, and gradually she fell for him hopelessly and irrevocably.

Back then, she was just a kid, a tag-along, the annoying little sister who begged to play video games with the grown-ups. But now she was twenty. She was a woman, legal and grown, and she was going to make Lucas Nicolas see her as one. 

She was Marie Allen, the rich, spoilt brat everyone assumed her to be. She always gets what she wants by hook or by crook and she wanted Lucas Nicolas more than anything she ever wanted. There was no way she was going to give up on that. 

Marie pressed her palm against her racing heart with a wicked smile curling her lips. He thought of her as a smart girl and Lucas Nicolas had no idea what was about to hit him.