That Night

The party raged on, but for Lucien, the world had narrowed to one figure.

Maya.

His gaze tracked her with unrelenting focus, even as Georgia slid her arm possessively through his. “Lucien,” she purred, her perfume cloying against the sharper, cleaner edge of his cologne. “Come with me. There’s a matter we should… discuss privately.”

But before he could reply, a sharp, polished voice cut in.

“Georgia.”

Both turned. A woman in emerald satin stood nearby, Signora Bianchi, wife of one of Lucien’s oldest allies. Her eyes glittered like a blade. “A word. Now.”

Georgia stiffened. “I’m occupied—”

“You’ll want to be unoccupied,” the Signora said smoothly, her lips curving without warmth. “Unless you’d like your little… indiscretions discussed in front of your host’s entire board.”

Color rose in Georgia’s cheeks, but she forced a brittle smile and let her hand slip from Lucien’s arm. “I’ll be right back,” she murmured, then stalked after the older woman.

Lucien barely noticed. The drug was coursing through him, heating his blood, sharpening his senses, unraveling the control he was known for. He turned, and found Maya again.

She was near the bar, carefully collecting empty glasses, pretending not to notice him. Pretending she wasn’t aware of the weight of his stare.

Lucien moved toward her, each step deliberate, as if some magnetic pull tethered them together.

“Maya,” he said, his voice rougher than usual.

Her breath caught.

Maya set her tray down on the bar, hands pressing against the polished wood to steady herself. She didn’t have to look up to know he was there — his presence wrapped around her like heat, pressing against her skin.

“Sir,” she murmured, keeping her voice neutral. “You should return to your guests.”

Lucien ignored the suggestion. His hand came down beside hers, trapping her in place. His breathing was uneven, his pupils dilated. It wasn’t the composed, controlled man she’d grown accustomed to seeing, this was something else.

“You’ve been running from me all night,” he said, his words low and thick, as though dragged through fire.

Her heart hammered. She glanced up, truly looking at him now, and the truth made her stomach plummet. Georgia had slipped something into his drink. Maya hadn’t imagined it. And now… it was taking him apart from the inside.

“Lucien—” she began carefully.

His gaze was molten, unreadable. “Say my name again.”

“Lucien.”

A sharp exhale escaped him, his jaw tightening as though the sound alone unraveled him further. He leaned in, his lips near her ear. “You don’t know what you’re doing to me.”

She swallowed hard, torn between fear and something that tangled far too close to desire.

If she left him like this, she knew what could happen. That kind of drug… it needed an outlet. Otherwise, it could become dangerous. Even deadly.

And he wasn’t reaching for Georgia. He was reaching for her.

Maya barely had time to think before Lucien’s hand wrapped around her wrist. Not hard, not cruel, but with a weight that brooked no refusal. He guided her through the crowd, his stride purposeful, his shoulders cutting through clusters of partygoers like a blade.

No one dared stop him. No one dared even look too long.

Her pulse roared in her ears. She could have pulled back, she told herself. She could have protested, shouted, done anything to call attention. But she didn’t. Maybe it was the way his hand trembled slightly against her skin, or the shadow of strain etched in his jaw. This wasn’t about dominance. It was desperation.

The hallway was deserted, muffled music echoing from far away, when Lucien’s hand closed around Maya’s wrist. His touch was firm, burning, and before she could protest, he was pulling her down a side corridor lined with locked doors. His movements were purposeful, almost too sharp, and she knew the drug was coursing through him like wildfire.

He stopped at an unoccupied room, shouldered the door open, and tugged her inside. The click of the lock echoed in the stillness.

“Lucien—” she began, her voice trembling, but her words cut off when his body pressed hers against the wall. His breath was hot against her ear, ragged in a way she had never heard before.

“I can’t—” He broke off, his jaw tense, eyes black with need. “I can’t stop.”

Maya’s heart pounded. She knew what Georgia had done, what the drug demanded. If he didn’t work it out of his system, it could destroy him. She should push him away, scream, run—yet her hands betrayed her, curling into his shirt, holding him close.

When his lips crashed against hers, it was fire and hunger and desperation all at once. She gasped, and his tongue slid into her mouth, claiming, devouring. Every line of his body pressed into hers, hard, unrelenting, yet it wasn’t just aggression. There was a tremor in his hands, like he was fighting himself, barely holding on.

Her pulse thundered in her veins, heat flooding her, drowning every thought but one: she wanted this. Him. Even if it was wrong. Even if it terrified her.

Lucien’s hand slid to the back of her neck, holding her in place, his kiss deepening until her knees weakened beneath her. His other hand gripped her waist, pulling her against the evidence of his arousal, and she whimpered into his mouth.

That sound broke something in him. With a growl, he lifted her effortlessly, carrying her to the bed in the center of the room. He laid her down but didn’t let go, his body following, pressing her into the sheets.

“Tell me to stop,” he rasped, his forehead resting against hers, his chest heaving. “Tell me, Maya…”

But she couldn’t. The word wouldn’t come. Instead, her fingers slid up into his hair, pulling him back to her lips.

That was all the permission he needed.

Lucien’s mouth trailed down her throat, his teeth grazing sensitive skin, leaving sparks in their wake. Maya arched beneath him, her breath catching as his hand slid up her thigh, slow but possessive, pushing the hem of her dress higher.

Her heart raced. This was her first time, the moment she’d always feared and yet, caught in the storm of his need, she couldn’t bring herself to push him away. Every touch ignited something deep inside her, something she hadn’t known existed.

Lucien cursed under his breath, his control fraying. He tugged at the thin straps of her dress, sliding them off her shoulders, baring her inch by inch. His gaze raked over her, burning, reverent and hungry all at once.

“Maya…” His voice was a growl, thick with restraint. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

Her lips parted, but the only sound that escaped was a soft moan when his hand cupped her breast, his thumb circling until her body trembled. Heat coiled low in her belly, every nerve ending alive.

When he tore the rest of her dress away, leaving her bare beneath him, she flushed, instinctively covering herself. But Lucien caught her wrists gently, pinning them above her head.

“Don’t hide from me,” he said, his gaze locking with hers. “Not tonight.”

Then he kissed her again, deeper, harder, while his body pressed her into the mattress. She felt the hardness of him against her core, urgent and demanding. Fear and desire tangled inside her, but when his hand slid between her thighs, stroking softly, her fear melted into a desperate, aching need.

“Lucien…” she gasped, her back arching.

He groaned at the sound of his name on her lips, his fingers teasing her until she was trembling, slick, ready. Then, with one last shred of hesitation, he positioned himself at her entrance.

“This will hurt,” he warned, his voice hoarse, almost pained. “Tell me if it’s too much.”

Maya met his eyes, her chest heaving, and whispered, “I trust you.”

With a thrust, he entered her, breaking through her innocence. Pain lanced through her, sharp and shocking, and she cried out, clutching at his shoulders. Lucien stilled instantly, his jaw clenched, his body trembling with restraint as he pressed kisses to her face, her temple, her throat.

“Breathe, piccola,” he murmured, his voice rough but tender. “I’ll go slow.”

Her body gradually adjusted, the sharp ache giving way to a strange, overwhelming fullness. When she nodded, he began to move, slow and careful at first, his rhythm gentle. Each thrust drew a new sound from her lips, the sting fading into pleasure, building higher and higher until she was clutching him desperately, lost in the heat of his body over hers.

Lucien’s restraint frayed with every passing second, his pace deepening, faster, until his growls mixed with her moans in the shadowed room. Maya’s world dissolved into sensation, the slide of his skin against hers, the heat of his breath, the way he said her name like a vow.

When release finally tore through her, it was blinding, shaking her to her core. Lucien followed, his body tensing above hers before collapsing against her, his breath harsh and ragged.

For a long moment, neither spoke. The only sound was their breathing, tangled and uneven.

Then Lucien lifted his head, his dark eyes searching hers with something unreadable. His look that of guilt and accusation.

Maya felt her breathe catch in her throat. apprehension coursing through her.