LOGINA pause. Cold silence settled between them."Is that not allowed?" she asked quietly.Lucian took a slow sip of his drink, then walked toward her with measured steps. "It's not about being allowed. It's about you remembering what you are in this house."Her breath caught."I'm not your prisoner," she whispered."No," he replied, standing a mere foot away now. "You're something else entirely."He placed his glass down on the marble counter and crossed his arms. "Did you enjoy the chat?"Caliste didn't answer.Lucian's gaze narrowed. "Did your friend remind you of how far you've fallen?""Yes," Caliste said, lifting her chin. "But I already knew."Lucian's jaw clenched, but he said nothing."Liena told me something," Caliste added, her voice steadier now. "She said the Velmores are preparing to find you a bride. That the board is pressuring you for an heir."Lucian didn't flinch. He simply stared at her."That's not your concern," he said flatly."Not my concern?" she echoed, her voice
The soft hum of the city rose in the distance, muffled by the floor-to-ceiling windows of Lucian's penthouse. Golden light spilled into the minimalist bedroom, casting long shadows across the cold, empty side of the bed.Caliste sat at the edge, dressed in a pale blouse and slim beige trousers—her work outfit simple, clean, almost too modest for the space she now called "home."Lucian had already showered. She heard the soft click of his belt earlier, the scent of his cologne still lingering in the air like a ghost.He stepped out of the walk-in closet, adjusting the cuffs of his dark dress shirt. His tie hung loosely around his neck as he grabbed his coat from the valet stand. Their eyes met for a brief second in the mirror."Don't be late tonight," he said, voice firm but quiet."I won't," Caliste replied, rising to smooth out the wrinkles on her blouse.Lucian didn't respond.He walked past her toward the door without a single backward glance. But just before he turned the knob, he
The boutique was nestled between luxury cafés and designer brands, a quiet but refined fashion house known for its tailored elegance. True to his word, Lucian pulled strings and placed Caliste in a position that matched her skills—not too high to raise suspicions, but not too low to humiliate her.Caliste stood by the window display, carefully adjusting the drape of a silk scarf on the mannequin's neck. Her heart raced—not from fear, but from the rush of doing something that felt meaningful again. She wore a simple blouse tucked into a pencil skirt, her hair pulled into a low ponytail. There was no trace of the woman who had been locked away in a golden cage. Not today.Her colleague, Liana, peeked from the corner. "You're new, right? You have the hands of a designer."Caliste smiled, modest. "I studied fashion once. Long time ago.""Well, if you keep fixing displays like that, the boss will worship you by Friday," Liana joked.Caliste chuckled, but deep down, a part of her still felt
A long silence followed.Lucian leaned back in his chair, eyes darkening. "That's not the word I'd use."Caliste raised a brow. "No? Because that's exactly what this feels like.""I'm not married," he said flatly. "A mistress implies someone kept in the shadows, behind a wife and a name. There's no one else. No wife. No ring. No vows. So no… you're not a mistress.""Then what am I?" she demanded, voice brittle.Lucian rose from his chair. He walked toward her slowly, gaze unreadable. "You're mine."Caliste's breath caught. "That's not a title. That's a claim."He stopped in front of her, not touching her, not reaching. Just towering. "Would you rather I call you an employee? An escort? Or maybe go back to calling you my wife, when you walked away from that title?"The air between them crackled. ------The penthouse was breathtaking—floor-to-ceiling windows that bathed the living room in warm sunlight, sleek black marble floors, modern furniture in muted grays and gold accents. It was
Lucian stared down at her, eyes shadowed with stormy emotions. He hadn't meant for any of this. Seeing her again—like that, in that place—had broken something inside him. But now, standing here in the quiet of his penthouse, holding her close, all his fury melted into something more dangerous: longing.Caliste tilted her head, lips trembling slightly as her gaze searched his. "Lucian…"He didn't wait.His mouth captured hers in a kiss so intense it knocked the breath out of her. It wasn't gentle—it was raw, hungry, filled with all the pain and longing they'd buried for years. She gasped against his mouth, her hands gripping the front of his shirt as he pulled her tighter."Tell me to stop," he muttered against her lips, his breath warm and ragged.But she didn't.Instead, she kissed him back—fiercely, desperately—because she had missed this too. Missed him. Missed them. The man who once made her believe in forever.Lucian's arms wrapped around her, lifting her effortlessly as he carri
Caliste stirred beneath the silky sheets, her eyelashes fluttering open. For a moment, she forgot where she was—until her eyes met his.Lucian.He was already dressed in a crisp black shirt and tailored pants, sitting on the couch like a shadow—silent, brooding, dangerous. His elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped, those piercing eyes never leaving her face.She quickly sat up, the sheet clutched to her chest. Her heart pounded."Lucian…"His expression didn't change."I—I just want you to know… You were my first client," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. "I never… I didn't sleep with anyone. You were the first and… the only."Lucian scoffed lightly and looked away. "Don't insult me with explanations I didn't ask for."Her chest tightened."You think I care how many men came before me?" he muttered, standing to his full height. "You should've never been here in the first place."Then his voice dropped into a command. "Get dressed."Caliste obeyed, silently slipping into







