Chapter 12: Steady Hands

The days felt longer now. Every morning started the same way, breakfast with Lucian where he reminded me of the rules in that cold, clipped voice, then long hours of silence while he worked and I tried to fill the empty spaces in this huge house. I read in the library, walked in the garden when the weather allowed, and tried not to think too much about how trapped I felt.

Today was no different. Lunch was served in the smaller dining room. Lucian sat at the head of the table, scrolling through his phone between bites. I pushed my salad around the plate, the tension from the last few days still sitting heavy in my chest.

“You’ve been quiet,” he said suddenly, not looking up.

I blinked. He rarely started conversations. “I’m just… adjusting.”

He set his phone down and fixed those eyes on me. “Good. Remember the rules. No wandering where you shouldn’t. Dinner at seven sharp tonight.”

I nodded, swallowing the frustration that rose in my throat. “Yes. I remember.”

The rest of the meal passed in heavy silence. When we finished, Lucian stood. “I have calls to make. Don’t wait up if I’m late.”

I followed him out of the dining room toward the stairs. My foot caught on the edge of the carpet. I stumbled forward

Strong hands caught me instantly.

Lucian’s arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me back against his chest. His fingers spread wide, gripping firmly into the curve of my hip and waist. For a long moment, neither of us moved. I could feel the rapid rise and fall of his breathing against my back, the way his fingers flexed slightly, pressing deeper into my curves like he was memorizing the feel of me.

My heart hammered wildly. The contact sent a rush of warmth through my body, confusing, unwanted, but impossible to ignore. His grip felt possessive. Protective. Dangerous.

“Watch your step,” he growled near my ear, voice rough and low.

But he didn’t let go right away. His hand stayed on my waist, thumb brushing once over the fabric, almost unconsciously. I could feel the tension in his arm, like he was fighting himself.

Then, suddenly, he released me like I’d burned him. His hand jerked away so fast I nearly lost my balance again.

“Be more careful,” he said harshly, not meeting my eyes. He continued down the stairs without looking back, his shoulders rigid.

I stood there for a few seconds, one hand on the railing, trying to steady my breathing.

I spent the rest of the afternoon in my room, curled up on the bed, replaying that moment.

By evening, the confusion had built up too much. I needed to talk to someone. I waited until the house was quiet, then slipped out to the garden again with my hidden phone.

Evelyn answered on the first ring. “Aurora? What’s wrong?”

I sat on the bench behind the bushes, keeping my voice low. “It’s… everything. Lucian is so cold most of the time. But then today on the stairs, I almost fell and he caught me. He grabbed my waist and held on longer than he needed to. I felt… I don’t know. Something. And then he let go like I disgusted him and told me to watch my step. I keep replaying it. Why does he do that? Why does it confuse me so much?”

Evelyn was quiet for a moment. “He’s fighting himself, sweetheart. That man has a lot going on inside that he doesn’t show. Just breathe. Don’t push too hard, but don’t close your heart completely either. These small moments… they mean more than you think.”

“I feel like I’m losing my mind here,” I whispered. “One minute I hate him, the next I’m waiting for the next time he touches me. It’s messed up.”

“You’re not messed up,” she said gently. “You’re human. And you’ve been through a lot. Keep talking to me when you can. I’m here.”

We talked a little longer. Her voice helped calm some of the storm in my head. When I hung up, I stayed in the garden for a few more minutes, breathing in the air.

Unknown to Aurora, Lucian stood at one of the upper windows, watching the garden. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides as he stared at Aurora sitting on the bench, phone pressed to her ear. He’d seen her slip out again. He knew she was talking to Evelyn.

The sight of her there, vulnerable and alone, made something twist painfully in his chest. He remembered the feel of her waist under his hand on the stairs, soft, warm, perfect. The way her body had fit against him for those few seconds. He’d wanted to pull her closer. To keep holding her.

Instead, he’d let go like a coward and barked at her.

“Get it together,” he muttered to himself, jaw tight. His obsession was growing stronger every day. Every small touch made it harder to remember why he needed to stay distant. Why he needed to protect her from himself.

He turned away from the window, clenching and unclenching his fists. This wasn’t supposed to happen. He had brought her here to keep her safe, not to lose control around her.

But as he watched her walk back toward the house from the shadows, he knew the fight was becoming impossible.

Aurora Sinclair was under his roof.

And every day, she was getting deeper under his skin.