5. Come and Protect Me

Marie watched him through the heavy glass of the window, her breath fogging the pane. 

Nicolas looked devastatingly handsome, radiating the kind of effortless charisma that had made him the most coveted bachelor in the city. He offered his arm to Sasha and she took it with a triumphant smile, pressing herself against his side like she'd already won some invisible competition. He opened the passenger door of his black Aston Martin and escorted Sasha inside. 

Suddenly, the house fell into a deafening, suffocating silence. 

Marie stood alone in the shadows, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs.

He thought he could simply walk out that door, pretend she was just a naive girl, a child, and enjoy a romantic evening with his newest toy. He believed his stern warnings and dismissive tone had broken her. But he underestimated her. He didn't know how possessive she could be. How obsessive and how utterly consumed she was by the need to make him hers.

She had been in love with Lucas Nicolas since she was fourteen years old that everyone dismissed as a phase. But it had never been a phase. She had carved a space for him in her soul and she was prepared to burn everything down to ensure he belonged to her and her alone.

She had watched him from afar for years, watched him cycle through women like seasons - blondes and brunettes, models and socialites, each one more beautiful than the last, watched him kiss them at parties, touch them in dark corners, leave them crying in hotel lobbies the next morning.

He was a playboy and a man who didn't believe in love and made sure everyone knew it.

But Marie didn't care. She wanted him anyway. She wanted him desperately, obsessively, with a hunger that bordered on madness.

She wanted to shatter his composure completely. She wanted him to look at any other girl and see Marie's face instead. She wanted him to realize that no matter how many women he paraded through his life, his darkest, filthiest desires belonged entirely to her.

“I'm not going to sit here in the silence and eat leftover pasta while he tastes expensive wine off that bitch’s lips.”

Marie gritted her teeth in anger and frustration. If he wanted to treat her like a dangerous temptation, then she was more than happy to become his worst nightmare.

She pulled out the most reckless outfit she owned, a backless, skin-tight black mesh dress that clung to every single curve, hitting mid-thigh and leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination, her pulse thrumming with reckless determination. 

She spent an hour on her reflection, touching up her makeup and darkening her lips with a deep, sultry burgundy gloss that looked like bruised fruit. She let her long, dark brown hair fall in wild, messy waves over her bare shoulders, shedding the image of the innocent student. She looked older, dangerous and entirely unbothered who knew exactly what she wanted and wasn't afraid to take it.

When she looked in the mirror, she barely recognized herself. She looked dangerous, irresistible, exactly the kind of woman Lucas Nicolas couldn't resist.

She knew for a fact that his elite estate security team watched the cameras twenty-four-seven. The moment she walked out those front gates, the head of security would call him. It was exactly the catalyst she needed.

Marie bypassed the estate cars to avoid any immediate interference. Instead she booked a private ride directly to Red Ember, the most exclusive, high-energy club near the university campus. It was loud, packed with college students and elite singles, and flashing neon lights that promised trouble.

The moment she stepped through the VIP entrance, the heavy, pulsing bass echoed through her chest, vibrating in her very bones. The atmosphere was thick with the scent of sweat, expensive alcohol and masculine cologne.

Within five minutes of standing near the lounge, she felt the weight of multiple gazes tracking her every move. She thrived under the attention, using it as a weapon. A tall, handsome guy, probably from the university's basketball team slid next to her at the bar, flashing a wealthy, confident smile that probably worked on most women.

"Can I buy you a drink, beautiful? I haven't seen you around here before," he murmured, his voice laced with interest.

Marie tilted her head, letting a flirty smile curve her lips. "I'm new in town," she purred, leaning against the bar counter. She intentionally repeated the exact way she had leaned against Nicolas's kitchen counter earlier, imagining his reaction if he were watching. "And I'd love a gin and tonic."

As the guy turned to order, her phone buzzed in her clutch. She pulled it out and the caller ID made her blood rush with a surge of pure, intoxicating adrenaline.

Nicolas.

She let it ring. Once. Twice. Three times. She waited until the absolute last second before sliding the screen to answer and pressing the phone to her ear.

"Marie." His voice exploded through the receiver, so deep and raw and trembling with unhinged fury that it completely drowned out the roaring club music. "Where the hell are you?"

"Hi, Nicolas," she replied, her voice smooth, breathy and completely relaxed. She intentionally shifted the phone, letting the loud, pulsing beat of the club background bleed into the call. "I thought you were at dinner with Sasha. How is the pavilion? Is the wine as expensive as they say?"

A heavy, terrifying silence stretched over the line. She could hear his ragged breathing, could picture the way his jaw was clenching, the way his knuckles were turning white around his phone.

"My security told me you left the gates half an hour ago," he hissed. His voice dropped into a lethal, quiet growl that sent a thrilling shiver down her spine. "I told you to stay in your room, Marie. I gave you a direct order."

"I'm not answerable to you. You’re not my father, brother or boyfriend, so don’t bother." 

She didn't know where she found this courage, this reckless, burning defiance. But the thought of him panicking over her presence in a club full of men fueled her. It felt good. 

Nicolas frowned, his anger peaking after listening to her curt answer. He deserved this. Marie was still simmering with rage after catching him with another woman, after he'd kissed her like she was everything and then walked away like she was nothing. She intended to make him pay for it all.

"Listen to me!" Nicolas snapped, his tone shifting to stern and commanding. "Your brother, Andrew, has given me the responsibility of looking after you. Until he returns, you are under my roof and my rules which include you not going anywhere without my permission."

She laughed softly only to provoke him more. "Oh God! I'm not a kid anymore, Nicolas. If I'm your 'responsibility,' then come and protect me."

"Who are you with?"

"Just making some new friends," she giggled softly, looking up as the handsome basketball player returned, handing her the drink with a suggestive wink. "Don't worry about me, Nicolas. Go back to your girl of the night. I’m having a great time."

"Marie, listen to me very carefully," he rasped, his composure completely shattered. 

In the background, she could hear the distinct, violent sound of a high-performance car engine roaring to life, followed by the screech of tires against asphalt. He had abandoned Sasha at the restaurant which felt like a victory. 

"Do not move. Do not let anyone touch you. If I get there and find a single hand on your skin, I will burn that entire place to the ground."

The line went dead before she could reply anything. She slowly lowered her phone, a wave of absolute, triumphant ecstasy washing over her. He claimed to enjoy the company of women like Sasha, but his dark, toxic possessiveness over Marie was a sickness and she was the only cure. She took a slow, deliberate sip of her drink, her eyes flashing in the dark neon light as she turned back to the guy who was waiting for her with eager eyes.

"So, where were we?" she smiled, her voice dripping with honey. 

For the next few minutes, Marie played the part of the flirt, leaning into the player's space, letting him believe he had a chance. But her mind was entirely on the road, imagining Nicolas driving like a madman toward the club, his mind consumed by the image of another man touching what he considered his.

Twenty minutes later, the atmosphere in the VIP lounge completely shifted. The heavy bass of the club still thudded through the soles of her heels, but the music seemed to fade into the background. The only sound Marie could actually hear was the frantic, rushing roar of her own blood in her ears. 

She felt him before she saw him and then she saw him.

Lucas Nicolas stood at the entrance of the VIP lounge like a storm given human form. His dark hair was disheveled, his chest rising and falling with barely contained rage. He was still wearing the black button-down from dinner, but the sleeves were rolled up even higher now, revealing the corded muscles of his forearms. His blue eyes seemed completely black, scanning the crowd with predatory intensity.

When his gaze found her, the world stopped. They locked into hers with a terrifying intensity. If looks could kill, the entire lounge would have been reduced to ash by then.

He moved through the crowd with a lethal grace. Every step was measured, deliberate, radiating a barely contained fury that made the nearest club-goers instinctively step back. He didn't even glance at the guy who still had his hand on Marie's waist. His eyes never left hers.

Marie's breath caught in her throat. She had wanted this. She had planned for this. But seeing him here, in the flesh, his composure shattered and his eyes burning with a dark, possessive fire, it was so much more intoxicating than she had ever imagined.

She was still lost in the overwhelming reality of him when he reached them. Without a word, his hand shot out and closed around the guy’s wrist, pulling it away from her skin with a force that made the guy wince.

"Nicolas..."