Chapter 9: Unwanted Proximity

The next few days settled into a strange rhythm. Mornings were quiet unless Lucian summoned me for another set of rules or a clipped conversation over breakfast. I spent most of my time in the library or wandering the parts of the mansion I was allowed in, always half-expecting him to appear and remind me of my place. Evelyn’s secret phone stayed hidden, and I only dared one short call every couple of days when I was sure I was alone.

On Thursday afternoon, Mrs. Hale knocked on my door with a large white box tied with a black ribbon.

“Mr. Draven asked me to bring this up,” she said, setting it on the bed. “There’s an event tonight. A charity gala. He wants you ready by seven.”

I stared at the box like it might bite me. “Tonight?”

“Yes, miss.” She offered a small, sympathetic smile before leaving.

I opened the lid slowly. Inside was a deep emerald green gown. There were matching heels and a small jewelry box containing delicate diamond earrings. No note. Just the dress and the expectation that I would wear it.

I ran my fingers over the material. It was beautiful. The kind of dress I never would have owned in my old life. But it also felt like another reminder that I was playing a role. Lucian’s wife. His property on display.

At six-thirty, I was dressed and standing in front of the mirror. The gown hugged my curves in a way that made me self-conscious. I looked… different. Like I belonged in his world, even if I didn’t feel it.

A sharp knock sounded. Lucian stepped inside without waiting for an answer. He was already in a black tuxedo that made his broad shoulders look even more imposing. His eyes swept over me once, slow and thorough. For a second, something dark flickered across his face. Then it was gone.

“You’ll do,” he said flatly. “The car leaves in ten minutes.”

No compliment. No acknowledgment of the dress he’d chosen. Just that.

The ride to the gala was silent. I kept my hands folded in my lap, staring out at the city lights. Every so often I felt his gaze on me, heavy and unreadable. When we arrived, cameras flashed outside the venue. Lucian stepped out first, then offered his hand to help me. The moment we were inside, he let go.

But not for long.

As soon as we entered the ballroom, his hand settled on my waist. Lucian introduced me smoothly as his wife, his voice cool and commanding. Every time a man’s eyes lingered on me a second too long, especially one older businessman who complimented my dress, Lucian’s fingers pressed harder into my waist, pulling me closer to his side.

“You’re with me,” he murmured once, low enough that only I could hear. His breath brushed my ear. “Remember that.”

I nodded. The mix of embarrassment and something hotter made my stomach flutter. I hated how aware I was of his hand, the way his thumb occasionally moved in small circles. Like he couldn’t quite stop himself.

We moved from group to group. Lucian talked business, investments, all while keeping me anchored to him. At one point, a tall man with a charming smile approached us.

“Lucian Draven. Good to see you. And who is this lovely…”

“My wife,” Lucian cut in, his grip on my waist tightening noticeably. “Aurora.”

The man recovered quickly, but I saw the way Lucian’s jaw clenched. He kept me close for the rest of the evening, his hand rarely leaving my waist. I found myself leaning into him.

By the time we left, my feet ached in the heels and my head spun from the constant performance. In the back of the car, I sighed and let my head fall back against the seat.

I didn’t mean to fall asleep. One minute I was watching the passing buildings, the next my head had tipped sideways. It landed on Lucian’s shoulder.

I jolted slightly, starting to pull away. “Sorry, I…”

His hand came up, resting lightly on my arm. “Stay.”

The word was quiet. Almost gruff. But he didn’t push me off. His body was warm and solid beside me. I stayed still, heart beating faster. The car ride felt longer than it should have. Neither of us spoke. His hand eventually moved from my arm to rest on the seat between us, but his shoulder stayed right there, supporting my head.

When the car finally stopped outside the mansion, I lifted my head slowly. Lucian was watching me, his expression unreadable in the dim light. For a moment, our eyes locked. The same charged tension from the dinner table, from the hallway, from every small accidental touch filled the space between us.

He looked like he wanted to say something. Or do something.

Then the driver opened the door, and the moment broke.

Lucian stepped out first and offered his hand again. I took it, the brief contact sending another spark through me. He walked me inside without a word, his hand returning to my lower back until we reached the stairs.

“Goodnight,” he said, voice rougher than usual.

He didn’t wait for my reply. He turned and headed toward his west wing, leaving me standing there, heart still racing from the ride home.

I made my way upstairs, fingers brushing the spot on my waist where his hand had been most of the night. The dress suddenly felt too tight, too warm. I changed into my nightclothes and climbed into bed, staring at the ceiling.

I touched the necklace at my throat and whispered into the dark, “What are you doing to me?”