Chapter 14

Lucian’s POV

The drive to the orphanage annoyed me more than it should have. Lilith had not replied to my message, and I disliked repeating myself.

She was usually quick to answer, not because she was obedient by nature, but because she had learned discipline.

I reminded myself that softness made her slow sometimes, and softness was why I kept her.

A woman like her was necessary. Quiet enough not to cause problems, gentle enough to handle the social tasks I had no patience for, presentable enough to stand beside me when I needed the world to look.

She was useful. That was all.

I parked and stepped out without waiting for anyone to open the door. The place was exactly as I remembered it. Old beige walls, worn pavement, faded chalk drawings near the gate. I walked up the small path and saw her stepping out of the entrance, her eyes darting across the yard as if she expected something to jump out at her.

She looked pale. Tired too. The color had drained from her face, and she held herself like a woman walking carefully over broken glass. If I did not know her as well as I did, I might have mistaken it for guilt.

But Lilith was not capable of anything that required strategy or deceit. This was simply fatigue, anxiety, maybe the remnants of a headache she had not mentioned.

I lifted my hand slightly to call her over, the same gesture I used for my staff when I needed efficiency. Her steps quickened and she stopped a respectful distance from me.

“You left without your driver again,” I said quietly. “You know that is not acceptable.”

“I am sorry,” she murmured. “I needed to clear my head.”

Of course she did. She was always too consumed with thoughts that led nowhere. I exhaled slowly and opened the passenger door. “Get in.”

She obeyed without question.

The moment the car started moving, my phone rang. I glanced at the screen and answered without looking at her.

“Yes. I am on my way.” I waited through a moment of frustrated breathing on the other end. “Stop whining. I said I will see you later.”

Carmella's voice purred something low and satisfied before I ended the call.

Lilith stared out the window. No reaction. No question. No accusation. She had learned long ago that I did not explain myself. Women cling to what they are allowed to cling to. Lilith clung to silence.

We drove for another few minutes before a thought occurred to me. She looked too empty lately. Too withdrawn. Maybe boredom was beginning to wear her down. An idle woman was a restless one, and I could not afford restlessness.

“I have something to show you,” I said.

She turned, confused. “Me?”

“Yes.” I kept my eyes on the road. “A man in my position requires order. Presentation. Public image. You will help with that.”

“What do you mean?” she asked, looking confused.

I did not elaborate. I parked in front of the boutique before she could ask again.

The building was glass-heavy and elegant, with soft lighting and a pristine window display. I had acquired it quietly months ago, waited for the renovations, ignored the original concept and redesigned the entire place myself. I stepped out first and waited for her to join me.

She walked slowly toward the entrance, her eyes widening in a way that would have been charming if I cared for such reactions.

“Lucian,” she whispered, unsure. “Why are we here?”

I allowed a small smile, though it did not reach my eyes. “It is yours.”

Her confusion deepened. “You bought this?”

“No.” I opened the door and motioned for her to enter. “It is a business investment.”

She stepped inside, surrounded by gleaming shelves, and the scent of new fabric and untouched paint. She looked at the chandeliers, the displays, the carefully arranged dresses that cost more than some people made in months.

I walked behind her and spoke lightly, as if I were discussing the weather. “You will run it for me.”

She turned quickly, startled. “What? Run it?”

“Yes.” I moved closer, adjusting the cuff of my shirt. “A wife who works presents well. It shows responsibility. Structure. It gives you something productive to do.”

Her lips parted as if she wanted to protest, then closed again. She looked overwhelmed, but that was predictable. This world was too large for her, but that also made her manageable within it.

“And the press will appreciate it,” I added. “You will be photographed here. Interviews, charity appearances. Women enjoy places like this.”

Her confusion changed into something else. Uncertainty. She had never asked to be seen. She had never asked for attention. But this was not about her wants.

I stepped close enough to touch her face. My hand lifted to her cheek, soft and careful, almost tender. Her skin warmed under my palm.

But my voice did not match the touch.

“From today on,” I said, “everyone will know you belong to me.”

She inhaled sharply. I did not move my hand. The softness of the contact was deliberate. Control often felt most effective when it pretended to be gentle.

At that moment, the boutique workers stepped inside through the side door, preparing for the introduction I had planned for later. They looked at us expectantly.

“Smile, Lilith,” I said quietly.

She forced one. A small, fragile curve. The kind that barely held itself together. I studied it with the same satisfaction one gives to a polished gemstone. It was not warm. It was possession.

Before I could say anything else, my phone vibrated.

I glanced at the screen.

The message froze me.

A pinned location. It was one of the Verona warehouses. Coordinates only three people in the world knew.

“I am coming to collect what was stolen.”

Bianca Vitelli.

The name tightened something in my chest. Bianca was trouble by nature, cruel by nurture, and reckless in ways that made even powerful men hesitate. If she was at one of my locations, she would not be alone. She would have come ready to reclaim her husband's mess. Or to set fire to something in his name.

Beside me, Lilith noticed my stare. “Lucian?” she asked cautiously.

I did not answer. I felt the heat inside me, the one that happened when business bled into threat. My heartbeat thudded once in a heavy pulse, then steadied into something colder.

I turned to the nearest guard. “Get in the car.”

He rushed ahead.

I was already dialing. “Enzo,” I said. “Meet me at the warehouse. Now.”

I did not look at Lilith at all.

She remained standing there, still smiling for the staff, her hands trembling slightly, her confusion covered by obedience.

I walked out, the door shutting behind me, and the warmth of th

e boutique disappeared instantly.

There was no room for softness now.

“What could Bianca Vitelli have on me?”