Chapter 2

Evelyn slid into the backseat of the ride she ordered, the cool leather a sharp contrast to the humid air outside. ‘Obsidian Ridge,’ she told the driver, her voice sounding foreign even to her own ears.

As the car pulled away from the curb and merged into the city traffic, Evelyn leaned her head against the window.

The Uber dropped her at the end of a long, winding driveway that seemed to disappear into the clouds. Standing before the entrance of Obsidian Ridge, Evelyn felt the bag in her hand go limp.

She pulled up her mother’s text again. Below the address was a string of six digits:

2-1-0-2-3.

The date she had signed the marriage papers, Evelyn realized with a sharp intake of breath. The code to his life was the date of his greatest regret.

She stepped toward the keypad, her fingers hovered over the numbers as she convinced herself she was doing the right thing.

When the final digit clicked, there was a beat of silence, long enough for her to hope the code had expired; and then the hiss of the gates swinging inward.

The estate was designed with beautiful landscape and as the house finally came into view, a beautiful masterpiece, she saw a single light reflecting in the top window.

Lucien was home. Or at least someone was.

She rang the doorbell. Once, and then again but no one answered. The light on was the only proof that there was anyone in the house. She pushed the door slightly open, peeking her head through.

The sight of the grand foyer was a breathtaking masterpiece Evelyn had no time to behold.

‘Hello,’ she called into the empty place before she stepped in fully ,her hands clutching her bag like a lifeline, she wandered around the quiet house, trying to find the light she had seen from outside.

A heavy thud at the end of the hallway caused her to jump in fright.

‘Hello,’ she called out again. Walking towards the source of the noise.

A door, left slightly ajar. She pushed it open, while looking around what seemed like a study. Her eyes fell on him then. The sight hitting her hadder than the jet lag.

‘Lucien,’

He groaned in response, slumped heavily against the velvet armchair, his dark suit jacket discarded near the door. His white shirt was unbuttoned halfway.

Evelyn pursed her lips in masked disgust at the scene of the seemingly drunk Lucien. Moving closer towards him, his gaze lifted slightly, eyes unfocused at the sound of the footstep walking closer to him. His collar was drenched in sweat.

Her heart made an unfamiliar thud at the prescence of this man. The man she had married and fled from.

Crouching beside him, she called his name again, ‘Lucien.’

His response was a deep groan at the back of his throat. The scent of a heavy fruity musk hit her at once, forcing her to look closely at him. He wasn’t just drunk, looking quietly around as if the culprit who had drugged him would walk in at anytime.

She tried to help him up, hauling his arm over her shoulder, the sheer mass of him nearly folding her in half. Lucien was a dead weight, his muscles twitching with an unnatural, feverish heat that bled through her thin cotton shirt.

Every step out of the study felt like her lungs were catching fire. Her sneakers slid against the polished floors as she dragged him. The only sound in the oddly quiet house besides the ragged, wet rasp of his breathing.

"Where did all the staff go?" She thought angrily to herself.

"Come on, Lucien," she hissed through gritted teeth. "Work with me."

He didn't hear her. His head hung low, his forehead bumping against hers.

She didn't have a map of the house, but she had an instinct for power. In a house built like this, the master of the house would sleep at the highest point, overlooking the city he intends to conquer.

She dragged him toward the glass staircase, her muscles screaming as she began to climb.

She found the room by the scent. The rest of the house smelled of cold air, but the double doors at the end of the second-floor gallery had a heavy, masculine scent, something she’d smelled in the foyer.

She kicked the doors open.

She steered him toward the bed, her legs finally giving out as they reached the edge. They collapsed together onto the silk sheets, the momentum dragging her down with him.

For a moment, Evelyn couldn't move. She lay there, her heart hammering against her ribs, her lungs burning as she struggled to take in deep breaths. The silence of the room was heavy, broken only by the hum of the fan.

Then something shifted.

As Evelyn tried to pull away, to stand up and find a cold towel or a phone, a hand clamped around her wrist.

Lucien’s eyes snapped open.

He saw a shape, an escape. A way for him to quiet the effects drug that had set a fire burning in his body.

‘Stay,’ he rasped. It wasn't a request, the voice of a man drowning in something he doesn't understand.

He lunged towards her just as she moved back, his movements jerky and uncoordinated. He rolled, pinning her beneath the heavy weight of his chest.

Even though she had spent years avoiding him, she couldn't deny the countless nights she had spent awake, staring at his pictures, listening to his voice during televised interviews.

Her breath hitched.

‘Lucien, stop. You’re drugged. You don't know what you're doing.’

He didn't hear her. He couldn't even if he wanted to. His fingers, trembling, tangled in her hair, pulling her head back. His gaze was frantic, searching her face with a hunger that was entirely devoid of recognition. When his mouth crashed against hers, Evelyn didn't pull away.

His mouth tasted of the spiked bourbon. The five o'clock deadline, the Sterling merger; it all vanished in the dark.

Evelyn fought to keep her hands between them, her mind racing through what was happening. He was in the peak phase of the drug. His heart was racing too fast, his body convinced it was in a state of arousal while his mind was blacked out.

As his hands moved with urgency to the buttons of her shirt, Evelyn realized what she had just walked into.

Someone had set her husband up for a violation he would never remember and she had walked into it. Something she would never be able to forget.