Chapter Nine

Lucien's POV

I watched her face turn the color of ash at the mention of the Moretti name, and for the first time in ten years, my pulse actually stuttered.

Scarlett didn't just look shocked. She looked haunted. She looked like a woman who had just seen the reaper standing in the corner of my private garage. I wanted to reach out, to demand to know how a girl from a strip club knew the name of the most sadistic cartel head in the Mediterranean, but the words died in my throat.

Damon was already watching me, his eyes hooded and mocking, waiting for me to fail.

"Get upstairs," I snapped, my voice harsher than intended because I didn't know how to handle the sudden, sickening pang of guilt twisting in my gut.

Scarlett didn't argue. She didn't even look at me. She turned and walked toward the elevator, her shoulders hunched as if she were trying to shield herself from a ghost.

As soon as the doors hissed shut, I turned on Damon. "If you ever use her as bait for your 'business' again, I will strip you of every asset you have."

Damon just laughed, a low, ugly sound. "I didn't use her as bait, Lucien. You threw her to the wolves. I just happened to be the one who pulled her out of their jaws. Maybe next time, try being a human being instead of a calculator."

He walked away, leaving me alone in the cold silence of the garage.

A death sentence. His words echoed in my head as I retreated to my study. I poured a glass of scotch, the amber liquid glowing under the desk lamp, but I didn't drink it. I kept seeing the way she had clutched Damon’s leather jacket. She had looked at my brother—a man who literally kills for a living—like he was a savior. And she had looked at me like I was the monster who had sent her to her grave.

I had tried to teach her a lesson. I had wanted to break that defiant spark in her eyes so she would understand the weight of the world she had entered. But I hadn't calculated for Jace. I hadn't calculated for the fact that she was actually, truly alone.

I hadn't slept by the time the sun began to bleed over the city skyline. By 7:00 AM, I found myself standing in the breakfast nook, watching her walk in. She looked exhausted. There were dark circles under her eyes, and she jumped slightly when she saw me sitting there.

"Mr. Hart," she whispered, her voice stiff and formal.

The guilt flared again, hotter this time. I stood up, clearing my throat. "Scarlett. About last night."

She stilled, her hand hovering over a coffee mug. "I’m sorry I wasn't faster. It won't happen again."

"That's not what I meant," I said, the words feeling like gravel in my mouth. I couldn't say the word sorry. A Hart didn't apologize. But I could redirect. "I’ve decided that the office is… perhaps too intense for you this week. You’ve had a shock."

She looked at me then, her eyes sharp and suspicious. "Are you firing me?"

"No. I’m assigning you to Theo for the day."

From the doorway, a bright, melodic whistle broke the tension. Theo leaned against the frame, his blonde hair tousled and his eyes sparkling with their usual chaotic energy. He was wearing a shirt that cost more than a car, unbuttoned halfway down, looking like the personification of a summer breeze.

"Me?" Theo grinned, his teeth white and perfect. "Lucien, are you finally letting me have the pretty bird? I thought you were keeping her all to yourself in that stuffy boardroom."

I ignored Theo’s jab, keeping my eyes on Scarlett. "Theo is heading to the photo studio and then a charity gala prep. His world is… different. It’s covered in colors and rainbows. You won’t get hurt there."

Theo let out a dramatic gasp, clutching his heart. "Colors and rainbows? Brother, you make me sound like a My Little Pony. I’m a model." He turned his gaze to Scarlett, his smile softening into something almost predatory, yet far warmer than mine or Damon’s. "But he’s right. No guns, no spreadsheets, and definitely no dark alleys. Just me, some champagne, and a lot of people telling me how brilliant I am. Think you can handle 'babysitting' me, Scarlett?"

Scarlett looked between the two of us. I saw the way her tension eased slightly at Theo’s presence. Everyone felt safer around Theo—that was his gift, and his most dangerous weapon.

"Babysitting?" Scarlett managed a small, tired smile. "I think I’ve dealt with enough toddlers in suits lately. I can handle you, Theo."

Theo let out a bark of laughter, stepping forward to tuck her arm into his. "Oh, I like her. She’s got a bite." He looked back at me, his expression momentarily turning sharp, a silent acknowledgment of the mess I’d made the night before. "Don't worry, Lu. I’ll bring her back in one piece. Maybe even with a smile on her face."

I watched them walk out, Theo’s easy chatter filling the hallway. I should have felt relieved. She was safe. She was away from the shadow of the Moretti name for a few hours.

But as I watched Theo’s hand linger a little too long on her waist, a new kind of tension tightened in my chest.

I had sent her to Theo to protect her. But in this house, there was no such thing as "safe." There was only the question of which brother would claim her first.

Theo Hart is the "Golden Boy," but even rainbows have shadows. Will Scarlett find a moment of peace with the youngest brother, or is Theo just a different kind of trap? And what is the secret she’s hiding about the Moretti family?