7: Beg me to enter you,

Lyra’s POV

Lillian came padding back, little feet smacking softly against the marble tiles. Her smile was wide and bright—until it wasn't.

“Mommy…” she said hesitantly, glancing at the pool, then back at me. “Daddy said… I should tell you I’m not your servant. So you should go get your dress yourself.”

I blinked.

My heart dropped.

Her words stung sharper than a slap. Not because she meant them—no, her innocent eyes looked confused—but because I knew exactly who had poisoned her lips with that line.

Lucian.

Of course, he was gone now. Like always, he struck hard, then vanished.

Lillian tilted her head. “Did I say it wrong? Was it… an abuse?”

My throat tightened. “No, baby,” I whispered, forcing a smile through the ache in my chest. “You said it perfectly.”

She wrapped her arms around me. “Don’t be sad, okay? I’ll still go get something nice for you.”

I shook my head gently. “It’s okay. Let’s just go inside.”

As I walked behind her, water clung to my skin, the soaked white fabric outlining everything I wished it didn’t. My arms instinctively wrapped around my body, trying to shield myself from the weight of invisible eyes.

Did Lucian think I wanted him to see me like that?

God, no.

Inside, I found the bedroom I'd been given, locked the door, and collapsed onto the bed. I ripped off the wet shirt and threw it across the room, then wrapped myself in a towel, trying to scrub away the shame.

Lillian had picked out oversized shirts for me. I slipped one on and curled under the blanket, my skin warm but my heart frozen.

I was starving, but I didn’t know where to find food. I wanted to call the hospital, see my parents—but my phone had broken last month, and I didn’t even have spare phone, let alone a charger. I had nothing.

What kind of life had I walked into?

I lay down, still in that fog of confusion and hunger. Somewhere between heartache and exhaustion, I must’ve drifted off.

Until—

Cold water splashed over my body.

I bolted upright with a gasp, drenched and gasping.

Lucian stood by the bed, a bucket in his hand and that usual cruelty in his eyes.

“You think you’re here to rest?” he sneered. “You’re not just Lillian’s babysitter. You clean the entire house. Every corner. Every floor. Every room. My room. Lillian’s room. Everything.”

He tossed the bucket aside. It clanged against the floor like thunder.

“I already gave the cleaners a holiday. Congratulations. You’ve replaced them.”

I sat there, stunned. “But that’s not in the contract—”

Before I could finish, his hand came fast.

A sharp, burning slap.

I tasted metal.

My face whipped to the side, and my ears rang from the force of it.

“You don’t get to talk back,” he growled, leaning in so close I could smell his cologne and rage. “You’re in my house now. Under my rules. If you can’t follow them, give me back my money. But know this—someone will leave this world first before that happens. Because in my world, there’s no backing out.”

He stepped away, eyes cold as death. “Come downstairs. Now.”

I scrambled off the bed, drenched, trembling, and followed him.

He stood near the fireplace, arms folded like a king surveying his kingdom. He didn’t even turn as I entered.

With a cold gesture, he pointed to the marble floor.

A shattered vase lay there, surrounded by rose petals, water, and broken ceramic.

“You see that?” he said. “Clean it. No mop. No help. Use your hands.”

I stared at the mess, my stomach twisting.

I dropped to my knees. The cold water soaked my sleeves. Tiny shards of ceramic bit into my palms, but I didn’t stop. I picked each one, quietly, obediently, my pride bleeding with my hands.

Lucian sat on the couch, watching me.

“You’re faster than I expected,” he said mockingly. “Didn’t know fat girls could move so quick.”

When I finally finished, I stood and bowed stiffly. “It’s done.”

He walked toward me, and for a split second, I thought… maybe. Maybe he’d apologize. Maybe he’d see I was trying.

But no.

He threw a key at me. It clattered to the floor near my feet.

“Clean the guest room. My friend’s coming tomorrow,” he ordered. “And when you’re done with that—every other room in this house better shine.”

He walked away.

And finally, when I was alone, a tear escaped.

I bent, picked up the key, and obeyed.

Room after room, I cleaned until my knees ached and my hands stung. When I reached the dining area, I saw a plate left out, half-eaten. I didn’t care. I was starving. I ate quietly—like a thief in the dark—then climbed the stairs to finish the rest.

I opened one door and found Lillian fast asleep, curled into a tiny ball. I didn’t dare wake her.

The next room was huge.

It had to be his.

Three massive portraits hung on the wall. One was Lucian. One was Lillian. The third… was turned to the wall, the face hidden.

I didn’t touch it.

I started cleaning.

As I dusted the last shelf, the bathroom door opened.

I froze.

Lucian stepped out, wrapped in a towel, drops of water still clinging to his chest.

How didn’t I hear the shower? How didn’t I know he was inside?

His eyes met mine. And my breath caught.

I turned to continue walking, but his voice stopped me.

"Stop there," he said.

I turned.

Then he said again, "You haven't collected what brought you to the room."

"What... nothing brought me here other than to just clean up," I stammered.

"Ohh, I see," he snarled, coming closer to me. He pulled me against his body. Before I could say something, his mouth was on mine, soft at first, testing, teasing, and then rough. My eyes fluttered shut as I melted into him, my hands instinctively gripping the front of his shirt.

The kiss deepened, his tongue brushing against my lips, and I opened for him eagerly.

"Ohh, I see someone has been dying for this all along," he said as he removed his mouth from mine.

I don't really know what came over me, but I really enjoyed it. I quickly turned to leave the room, and he grabbed me back.

"Where do you fucking think you are going?"

His hands slid down to my waist, pulling me closer until our bodies were pressed together. I felt the hard lines of his chest against mine, the heat radiating off him making my skin tingle. His tongue explored my mouth with a hunger that left me breathless, and I moaned softly, the sound swallowed by his kiss.

"Beg me to enter you, and I might consider it," he said, scanning me from head to toe.

"I will never do that," I said, trying to remove myself from his grip.

He angrily pushed me onto the bed. His hands roamed over my body, tracing the curves I’d always been too shy to show off. "You’re fucking lying, you hippo, you must beg for it," he muttered, his fingers slipping under the hem of my shirt. "No lady on this earth can resist my touch."

"And I'm not among the ladies. Get off me, this is not part of our agreement."

My breath caught as he pulled my shirt over my head, leaving me in just my bra. His eyes raked over me, and I felt exposed, vulnerable, but also exhilarated.

Lucian leaned down, his lips trailing hot kisses along my neck, down to my collarbone. His teeth grazed my skin, and I gasped, arching into him.

"Stop…" I breathed, my hands tangling in his hair. "Please…"

"Please what?" he teased, his mouth moving lower, kissing the swell of my breasts. "Tell me what you want, landwhale. Beg for my cock to get into you."

"I want… I want to go. I just came to clean up the room, not this," I stammered, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, but my body screaming for more.

He chuckled darkly, his fingers unhooking my bra with practiced ease. My breasts spilled free, and he wasted no time taking one into his mouth, his tongue swirling around my nipple. I cried out, my hips bucking against him as pleasure shot through me like a lightning bolt.

"Fuck, you," he muttered, switching to my other breast and giving it the same treatment. His hand slid down my stomach, slipping under the waistband of my jeans. My breath hitched as his fingers found my wetness, stroking me through my panties.

"You’re already so fucking wet for me," he growled, his voice thick with lust. "You’ve been wanting this, pretending?"

I nodded, meaning no, unable to form words as his fingers dipped inside my panties, brushing against my clit. I moaned loudly, my head falling back as he teased me, his touch sending waves of pleasure crashing through me.

"Lucian, stop it… this is not part of the contract," I begged, my voice trembling with desperation.

"Stop pretending, and beg?" he asked, his fingers still working me slowly, maddeningly. "Tell me."

"I'm not that desperate," I gasped, my nails digging into his shoulders. "Please, Lucian…"