Chapter 6

Selene’s POV

I followed the elegant woman through the mansion in silence, pushing aside whatever it is that I thought I saw in Lucien's eyes

Our footsteps echoed softly across polished marble before the flooring changed to warm, dark wood.

The farther we walked, the quieter everything became.

The grand entrance disappeared behind us, replaced by long hallways adorned with paintings, fresh flowers, and towering windows overlooking endless gardens.

It felt less like a house...

And more like a world of its own.

"This is the east wing, Miss Ashford," the woman said gently.

I looked around.

The hallway stretched in both directions, lined with tall double doors carved from dark wood.

Everything looked immaculate.

Not a speck of dust.

Not a single thing out of place.

We stopped before the last room at the end of the corridor.

She opened the door and stepped aside.

"This room has been prepared for you."

I hesitated before walking inside.

The first thing I noticed wasn’t the size.

It was the sunlight.

Golden afternoon light poured through floor-to-ceiling windows, warming every corner of the room.

Cream-colored walls softened the space while fresh white lilies rested in crystal vases, filling the air with a delicate fragrance.

The bed was enormous, dressed in crisp white linen that looked untouched.

A small sitting area overlooked the gardens beyond the balcony.

Nothing about the room felt cold despite its elegance.

It felt...

Peaceful.

Almost too peaceful.

Behind me, the woman spoke again.

"If there’s anything you need, please don’t hesitate to let us know."

I turned.

"Thank you..."

She smiled warmly.

"My name is Margaret."

"I appreciate it."

With another polite nod, Margaret quietly excused herself, gently closing the door behind her.

The click of the door echoed through the room.

---

The room fell silent after Margaret left.

I stood there for a moment, taking in my surroundings without really seeing them.

My body felt heavy.

Not just from exhaustion.

From everything.

My gaze drifted over myself.

My clothes were wrinkled from yesterday.

My hair had long since lost its shape.

The faint scent of dust, sweat, and the long, miserable day clung stubbornly to my skin.

I grimaced.

"I need a shower."

More than that...

I needed to wash yesterday off me.

Crossing to my suitcase, I pulled out a fresh set of clothes before making my way into the bathroom.

The sight that greeted me almost made me forget why I’d come inside.

The bathroom was breathtaking.

White marble stretched from floor to ceiling.

A freestanding bathtub overlooked a private garden through an enormous glass wall, while a spacious walk-in shower occupied the opposite side.

Everything gleamed.

Untouched.

Waiting.

I turned on the shower.

Warm water poured from the rainfall showerhead, quickly filling the room with clouds of steam.

Without another thought, I stepped beneath it.

The heat wrapped around me like a blanket.

My eyes fluttered shut.

Slowly, the water soaked through my hair before cascading over the shoulders, carrying away the dust, the sweat, and the weight that seemed to cling to my skin.

I lingered beneath the spray longer than I intended.

Not because I wanted to...

Because stepping out meant facing reality again.

Eventually, the water began to cool.

With a quiet sigh, I reached over and turned it off.

The sudden silence settled around me.

I wrapped one of the large white towels around my body before using another to dry my damp hair.

Steam drifted lazily through the bathroom as I pushed the door open and stepped back into the bedroom.

My skin still tingled from the warmth of the shower.

The tightness in my chest hadn’t disappeared.

But it no longer felt like I was suffocating.

I slowly worked the towel through my damp hair as I walked toward my suitcase.

A clean set of clothes waited inside.

I couldn’t wait to get out of the towel and into something comfortable.

A soft click echoed behind me.

I frowned.

Margaret?

"I’ll just be a minu—"

The words caught in my throat.

Lucien stood just inside the room.

My eyes widened.

"What..."

The question never came.

He looked as surprised as I felt.

"I knocked."

His deep voice broke the silence between us.

"I didn’t hear you."

Embarrassment washed over me.

"I was in the sh—"

I took an unconscious step backward.

The towel around my body shifted.

My hand shot down to grab it.

Too late.

The knot came loose beneath my fingers.

My heart lurched.

No...

The towel slipped.

Then pooled silently around my feet.

Every ounce of color drained from my face.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t move.

I simply stared at him in complete horror.

His eyes widened, dark lashes framing the sudden flare of surprise.

For a split second, his gaze locked on mine, then dropped.

His pupils dilated, a faint flush creeping along the sharp line of his jaw.

His lips parted, a quick intake of breath that made his chest rise beneath the crisp fabric of his shirt.

His hands twitched at his sides, fingers curling once, as though he fought the urge to reach for me.

Heat radiated from him in the charged silence.

His throat worked as he swallowed hard, the muscles in his neck tightening visibly.

A muscle jumped in his cheek.

His stare lingered on my bare skin, tracing the curve of my breasts, the dip of my waist, the soft swell of my hips before snapping back to my face.

Shock still held him frozen, but something else flickered beneath it—raw, unguarded hunger.

His breathing grew heavier, the rise and fall of his chest quickening.

His gaze burned, intense and unblinking, as though he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

A vein pulsed at his temple.

His fingers flexed again, restless, hungry.

The air between us thickened, heavy with the weight of his reaction, the tension stretching taut as a wire.

He didn’t speak.

Didn’t move.

Just stood there, drinking me in, every line of his body taut with the effort of holding himself still.

My stomach twisted.

My skin prickled under the weight of that stare.

I felt exposed, stripped bare not just by the fallen towel, but by the way his eyes devoured every inch of me.

His reaction seared into me, branding me with the intensity of his gaze.

I wanted to scream.

To cover myself.

To run.

But I couldn’t.

Not with him looking at me like that.

Not with the air crackling between us, charged and dangerous.

His eyes darkened further, the hunger sharpening into something almost feral.

A low, ragged breath escaped him.

His jaw clenched tighter.

The flush on his cheeks deepened.

He looked like a man on the edge, fighting every instinct to close the distance, to touch, to claim.

And I stood there, trembling, caught in the crossfire of his reaction, my heart hammering so loud I was sure he could hear it.

The moment stretched, endless, unbearable.

His stare never wavered.

Neither did mine.

The world narrowed to the space between us, to the heat in his eyes, to the way his body strained against the invisible leash of restraint.

I felt the flush rise on my own skin, burning from my chest to my cheeks.

My nipples tightened under his gaze, a helpless reaction I couldn’t hide.

His eyes flicked down, catching the movement, and his nostrils flared.

A low sound rumbled in his chest, almost a growl.

His hands fisted at his sides, knuckles whitening.

The tension in the room thickened, suffocating, electric.

I couldn’t look away.

Couldn’t move.

Couldn’t breathe.

All I could do was stand there, naked and trembling, frozen while Lucien stared at me like he wanted to devour me whole.