Chapter Seven: Breakfast with wolves.

~Celine’s POV~

The invitation still burned in my fist as Lucien and I descended the grand staircase toward the breakfast room. His hand brushed mine every few steps  childish on the surface, but the brief graze of his fingers felt far too deliberate, too knowing. I kept my eyes straight ahead, trying desperately to ignore the memory of his body wrapped around mine just an hour earlier, his palm hot against my bare stomach, his breath on my neck.

Mrs. Eleanor Hargrove had transformed the sunlit breakfast room into something almost theatrical. The long mahogany table gleamed with crystal and silver, but it wasn’t the elegant spread that stopped me cold.

It was the display.

Three rolling garment racks stood like silent sentinels along the far wall, each one heavy with dozens of couture gowns, emerald silk that matched my eyes, deep burgundy velvet, midnight-black lace that looked sinful, soft champagne chiffon that whispered luxury. Beside them, a long marble console held open jewelry cases: rows of diamond studs, sapphire pendants, heavy gold bangles, and statement pieces that glittered like stolen stars under the morning light. Two maids in crisp uniforms stood ready, expressions perfectly neutral.

Lucas Knight leaned casually against the console, arms crossed, wearing that disarmingly charming smile. “Good morning, Mrs. Thornhart. Lucien insisted we make you feel… welcome. Mrs. Hargrove may have mentioned a boutique idea last night. We took it seriously.”

I stared, mouth dry. These weren't a few thoughtful gifts. This was overwhelming, almost aggressive generosity  the kind only someone with Lucien’s fortune could summon overnight.

Lucien clapped his hands and bounced on his toes like an excited child. “Look, new Mummy! So many pretty things! Lucas brought them all for you!”

He skipped over to the racks and began pulling out dresses with dramatic flair, holding a deep-green silk gown up to my body. “Mummy will look like a princess! Can we go shopping today? Lucien wants to see Mummy in everything!”

I forced a smile, but my mind was reeling. Why so much? Why now? It felt less like a gift and more like preparation  as if they were armoring me for battle rather than welcoming me as a wife.

Lucas’s sharp brown eyes met mine over Lucien’s head. “Unlimited budget. Consider it a wedding present from the house.”

Heat rushed to my face. Gratitude, shock, and deep unease tangled inside me. For the first time in years, someone was treating me like I mattered. Not the spare daughter. Not the burden. Not the disposable one. A person with power.

Mrs. Hargrove poured coffee with calm efficiency, but I caught the subtle, approving nod she gave Lucas. She had orchestrated this. The warmth. The excess. The quiet message that I was no longer alone.

I sat down, legs unsteady. Lucien piled pancakes onto my plate with childish enthusiasm, then pushed the creamer toward me  exactly the amount and temperature I preferred. He didn’t look at me while doing it, still humming, but the small, precise gesture felt anything but accidental.

Breakfast passed in a strange mix of tension and domestic absurdity. Lucien threw a dramatic tantrum when his pancakes weren’t cut into perfect triangles, then giggled hysterically when a maid fixed them. Lucas kept the conversation light, but his eyes never left me, assessing, calculating.

Then Lucas’s phone rang.

His entire posture changed instantly, shoulders tightening, charm vanishing. He answered with clipped efficiency, speaking rapid Mandarin. When he hung up, his expression was grim.

“Problem?” I asked before I could stop myself.

“Three of our container ships have gone dark on the Malacca route,” Lucas said. “No distress signals. No ransom. Just… vanished from tracking.”

The words triggered years of silent observation I’d done on my family’s shipping business. “Check the port authority clearances in Jakarta,” I said quietly. “If someone altered the manifests, the ships might not be missing. They could be docked under different registrations, waiting for cargo transfer. It’s cleaner than piracy.”

The room went deathly silent.

Lucien, who had been “playing” with a toy car, froze. For a split second, his steel-gray eyes locked onto mine  sharp, assessing, and completely lucid. Not the childish gaze. The real one. The wolf.

Then the mask snapped back into place so fast it made my head spin.

“Pretty Mummy is smart!” he chirped, voice high and sweet, but his fingers brushed mine under the table with deliberate pressure  warm, steady, approving. “Lucien likes to be smart.”

Lucas stared at me with new respect. “You’re right. Jakarta has a three-day processing window. If the manifests were changed…”

He was already dialing, barking orders. When he finished, he turned to me. “Mrs. Thornhart, would you be available to review our security protocols? It seems we have gaps that require… specialized attention.”

I should have refused. I should have kept my distance and protected my own secrets.

But Lucien’s hand found mine under the table again, warm and certain. His thumb traced a slow circle on my skin, the same possessive touch from this morning in bed. My breath caught.

I looked at the racks of couture dresses that suddenly felt like armor instead of gifts. At the wedding invitation still burning on the table like a challenge.

“Yes,” I said, surprising myself with the steadiness in my voice. “But first, we attend Clara and Xavier’s wedding. Together.”

Lucien giggled and clapped, still playing the excited child. But when his eyes met mine, they held something deeper. Something like approval. Something like hunger.

“Together,” he repeated softly, and for a moment the childish lilt faded. “Lucien likes them together.”

As sunlight poured over the glittering jewelry and silk dresses, I realized I was no longer just surviving this marriage.

I was stepping into it.

And I still had no idea whether the man beside me was my greatest threat… or the only person powerful enough to help me burn my old life to the ground.