“I'm sorry, sir—”She had practised the tremble in her voice, just enough breath to make it sound nervous but not foolish, like a girl too green to be dangerous, the kind men like Lucien Torres never looked at twice unless they were undressing them with their eyes.And that was exactly what she needed. She stepped through the rising mist of the private spa, her tray trembling just so, crystal glasses balanced like promises on polished silver.The scent in the room was teakwood and something darker—cardamom maybe, or smoke—coating the marble with a kind of heat that didn't come from the steam alone. Lucien didn't answer. He hadn’t even looked up yet.He was half-submerged in the steaming bath, one arm flung lazily over the edge of the stone rim, black ink curling up his forearm, a scorpion caught mid-sting. His chest rose and fell slowly beneath the rippling surface, dark hair slicked back, lashes wet.His silence was deliberate. Designed to make people sweat. Valentina—no, not here, C
Last Updated : 2025-10-28 Read more