An Unexpected Fiancée

CHAPTER FIVE

LAUREN’S POV

I held my breath after the words left my mouth. “Who is Tania?”

Lucien paused at the door, his back to me. For a second I thought he wouldn’t answer. Then he turned halfway, those glasses catching the low light.

“I’ll tell you when the time is right,” he said quietly. His voice was low, almost careful.

I nodded, even though my chest felt tight. I paused, then asked softly, “Is she your girlfriend?”

He chuckled, the sound warm and short, like I’d said something innocent and funny. “No.”

That was it. He left, closing the door gently behind him.

I lay there staring at the ceiling, the ice pack slowly turning warm against my ankle. My mind wouldn’t shut up. Tania. The way his body felt carrying me. The way he looked at me when I said I saw his study light. Everything was too much.

A little while later the door opened again. Lucien stepped in, still in that dark t-shirt. I was already under the covers, trying to pretend I was sleepy, ice pack still balanced on my leg.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, voice soft.

I swallowed. “I’m doing okay.”

He came closer and sat on the edge of the bed without asking. “You sure?”

“Yeah. It’s not that bad anymore.”

He studied me for a second, then reached out and carefully lifted my leg onto his lap. His hands were warm, fingers gentle as he adjusted the ice pack and started rubbing slow circles just above my ankle. Not pressing hard, just… soothing. I swallowed again, hard. The touch sent little sparks up my leg straight into my stomach.

“You don’t have to do that,” I whispered.

“I want to.” His thumb brushed my skin again. “Don’t get hurt like this again, Rain. I wouldn't like seeing you in pain.”

My heart did something stupid. I watched his hands moving on my leg, strong but so careful. The room felt smaller. Every little stroke made it harder to breathe normally.

We stayed like that for a few minutes. Quiet, but not awkward. The kind of quiet that feels full.

Finally he eased my leg back down and stood. “I’m retiring to bed. You need anything before I go?”

I shook my head.

He leaned down and pressed a kiss to my forehead. His lips is soft and warm. Lingering just a second longer than it should have. “Goodnight, Rain.”

“Goodnight,” I managed.

He left. The door clicked shut.

I grabbed my rosary from the nightstand, held it tight against my chest, and squeezed my eyes closed. *Lord, please. Please.* My pulse was still racing from that forehead kiss. Gratitude wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Like heat under my skin and want curling low in my belly.

Sleep took forever to come.

---

The next morning a soft voice pulled me awake.

“Rain.”

I blinked, eyes focusing. Lucien stood beside my bed, already dressed in a black suit that looked expensive even in the morning light. Top three buttons of his black shirt undone, showing a hint of his inked chest and that cross necklace again. His hair was perfect, glasses on. He looked unfairly good for this early.

He reached out and brushed my hair back from my face, fingers light. “The doctor’s here for you.”

I sat up slowly, suddenly aware I probably looked messy. “Okay.”

The doctor was quick and nice. Massage, a lightweight cast, crutches, and some pain meds. Lucien stayed in the room the whole time, watching quietly. Every time the doctor touched my ankle, Lucien’s jaw tightened a little. I noticed.

A couple hours later I hobbled into the kitchen on one crutch. Thelma was already there, perched on a stool, chatting with Rhode while he cooked.

“Morning, sleepyhead,” Thelma grinned. “How’s the ankle?”

“Better. Cast makes it feel less dramatic.” I eased onto a stool.

Rhode slid a plate toward me with a smile. “Eggs, toast, fruit. Eat up.”

“Thanks, Rhode.” I picked up my fork.

Thelma launched into a story about some influencer she followed who tried to bake and failed spectacularly. I laughed, Rhode joined in with her own kitchen disaster tale. It felt normal. For a minute I forgot about the ache in my chest.

Then Thelma said casually, “Oh, by the way, Evelyn’s coming to stay the weekend.”

I frowned, chewing slower. “Who’s Evelyn?”

Thelma reached for an orange. “Uncle Lucien’s fiancée.”

Everything stopped.

I froze, fork halfway to my mouth. The word slammed into me like cold water. Fiancée.

Thelma kept talking, not noticing. “She’s really elegant. You’ll see when she gets here.”

I couldn’t speak. My throat closed up. Fiancée. Lucien had a fiancée.

I stared at my plate, heart hammering so hard I was scared they’d hear it. The kitchen chatter continued around me, but it sounded far away.

Fiancée.

I swallowed hard and forced my face to stay neutral, but inside everything was spinning.