LUCIEN'S POV
It's the fourth day of our vacation. Tonight, I'm taking her to a party hosted by an old friend here in Australia. It's been a while since she's truly socialized. I want her to open up to the world again, to return to the powerful, fearless woman who used to devour challenges like oxygen. I want her to succeed in whatever path she chooses—and I want to be there beside her, not in the shadows, but as her equal. Her constant. Her anchor.
I'm waiting at the foot of the stairs. It's been three hours since she started getting ready, and anticipation is crawling under my skin.
Then—
A sharp, deliberate clack of heels echoes from above.
Ah. There she is.
My goddess.
She descends the staircase slowly, and for a moment, the air shifts around her. She wears a red evening gown—fiery, seductive, yet impossibly elegant. The fabric hugs every curve of her body like it was made for her and only her. A thigh-high slit reveals smooth skin and legs sculpted like sin, while the neckline teases just enough to drive a man insane. The gown's backless design shows off her flawless skin, her posture regal, every step commanding attention.
She looks ethereal. Dangerous. Divine.
She looks like she owns the world—and tonight, she owns me too.
When she reaches the bottom, her eyes meet mine with a look that holds heat, hunger, and something deeper. Something only I am allowed to see.
"My love," I breathe, walking toward her, barely holding back. "You look heavenly."
I lean in, and press a kiss to her neck. She smells like wildflowers in spring and warm nights in silk sheets. And suddenly, I regret agreeing with this party. I want to ruin that dress. I want to taste every inch of her until she forgets her name.
My hands find her waist. I tilt her face up and kiss her, slow and reverent. "You're making it so hard for me to leave this villa right now."
She smirks, brushing her fingers along my chest. "We still have a lot of time left on this vacation. Do whatever you want... later."
She's perfect.
I help her into the black Rolls-Royce, and we drive off.
The venue is held in an extravagant mansion overlooking the sea. Tall glass walls shimmer under crystal chandeliers. A red carpet leads to a grand marble entrance flanked by fountains. Cameras are flashing. Elite guests in designer suits and couture gowns chatter over champagne. Business tycoons, celebrities, royalty in disguise—it's a playground of the rich and the ruthless.
As we step onto the carpet, everything falls silent.
All eyes are on us.
In this world, I am known—the cold-blooded dealmaker, the ruthless heir, the man who never bends, never feels. And beside me is Elira Callista—careerwoman, empire-builder, untouchable. The woman men worship from afar but never dare to approach.
Yet here we are, walking hand-in-hand. Unapologetic. Unshaken.
And I have already kissed every inch of her skin.
The thought makes me smirk.
"What's making you so happy?" she teases, gently pinching my hand.
"I'm happy to be with you," I whisper, kissing her forehead as camera flashes explode around us. Let them look. Let them wonder. In this moment, we are untouchable—wrapped in a world of our own making.
And if Eros is watching… I hope it burns him inside.
Because this is proof—no shadow of her past, no ghost from before—can steal her from me.
She's mine now.
"Lucien, my friend! It's been a while!" Martinez greets me, arms open, and smiles wide. He's the host tonight.
People begin to swarm around us—old friends, business allies, parasites looking for clout.
I raise my voice slightly and turn to them, keeping Elira close.
"Everyone," I announce, my hand resting on her back, "I want to introduce the woman I love."
I look at her. Her eyes meet mine with that familiar spark, and for a moment the world holds its breath.
"Elira Callista."
Gasps. Whispers. A rush of movement as people begin to greet her, trying to earn even a sliver of her attention. I release her gently from my hold and lean in close.
"You've got this, my love. Fly higher," I whisper against her temple and kiss her gently.
She doesn't speak—but the way she looks at me, the way she smiles... it's enough to light the entire room.
And in that moment, I realize—making her smile like that... is the greatest achievement of my life.
What I once thought was just curiosity but her strength, her pride, her fire, has turned into something else.
Something enduring.
Because this woman makes me want to live longer.
To clear her path.
To protect her in daylight, and worship her in the dark.
To love her—completely, endlessly.
ELIRA'S POV
As the evening deepens, the conversations around me grow more serious. I spot Lucien across the room, engrossed in a discussion with his friends. Judging by the intensity on his face, they're probably talking about business—his favorite topic.
I don't want to disturb him, so I quietly make my way toward the lavish buffet table. The aroma is irresistible. I take a bite of something rich and savory, pairing it with a sip of white wine. The flavors blend perfectly on my tongue.
And then, without meaning to, my mind wanders back—to the first night I met Lucien. It was also at a party, just like this. I hated him then. Or, maybe I hated how I was drawn to him—those cold, all-knowing eyes that stripped me bare. Like he could see everything: my pride, my secrets, my past.
But now… now I am willing to be bare before him. In my past. In my truth. In his arms. In bed.
My face flushes at the memory of the nights we've spent together.
"I must be crazy," I whispered to myself, smiling softly.
"Yeah, you are—crazy gorgeous," a voice interrupts beside me.
I turned, surprised. A man I don't recognize is standing a little too close, smiling like he owns the world.
"Do I know you?" I ask, confused.
He shrugs, unfazed. Probably one of the guests who introduced themselves earlier.
"What's crazy about me, sir?" I ask, my tone is sharp now.
He chuckles. "Well, you showing up alone in a place like this. A woman as stunning as you should have someone strong to protect her." His hand reaches out to touch my hair.
I step back immediately.
"I'd appreciate it if you kept your hands to yourself," I say, voice cold as steel.
"Ooh, feisty," he smirks.
"I don't tolerate men like you," I snap. "The kind who think power or money gives them the right to touch whatever they want. Let me guess—you don't even run your company. Just another trust fund brat waiting for daddy to buy him a new car."
His face twists in anger. "Bitch," he hisses, grabbing my arm. "You act all high and mighty. But you're just another gold-digger at these parties, fishing for a man to latch onto. Just another plaything—"
The slap I give him is loud, sharp, and the room falls into a stunned silence.
"If you think you can scare me, you're dead wrong," I say coldly, staring him down. "You're just another insect I won't hesitate to crush beneath my heel."
He reels, his face red with fury, and raises his hand to strike me.
But it never lands.
A hand clamps around his wrist, and then slams him against the wall. Lucien.
His face is thunderous, voice like ice. "You dare touch my woman? I will tear you apart."
The man turns pale, his bravado crumbling instantly. He looks at me with pleading eyes.
I smirk, leaning in slightly. "Bastard," I mouth.
His hands tremble, and Lucien lets go just before things spiral out of control. Still, his glare could kill.
He turns to me, eyes scanning over every inch of me, checking if I'm okay.
"Are you alright?" he asks flatly, his voice tight.
The coldness of his tone stings more than the incident itself.
"Let's go home."
And just like that, he turns and walks ahead. I follow in silence, heart thudding, confused and aching.
The car ride is suffocating. Not a word is spoken. Tension fills the air between us like fog.
Why is he acting like this?
When we reach the villa, he storms toward his office without a glance back.
"Lucien, stop right there."
He freezes, but doesn't turn around.
"What is your problem? You barely looked at me. You didn't even try to comfort me. I'm not asking for a dramatic scene—but a single word of reassurance? That's all I wanted. Instead, you're acting like I did something wrong."
He remains silent.
"I can't understand you. It's frustrating. And honestly, it hurts."
My voice cracks. I turn and storm toward the door. I need air. Space. Quiet.
But before I can make it down the steps, arms wrap around my waist. Cold, familiar. His scent tells me who it is even before I look back.
"I'm sorry… Please don't leave me. I'm sorry, my love. I'm sorry."
I take his arms off of me, gently but firmly.
"If you can't even explain why you're acting like this, don't try to stop me. You know what I'm going through, Lucien. The last thing I need is this. You're hurting me."
Tears fall before I can stop them.
Lucien slowly sinks to his knees.
His face—raw, broken, dejected.
His voice trembles. "I was jealous… when I saw that man talking to you. My mind went crazy—spinning worst-case scenarios. I imagined you… laughing with him, walking away with him. It made me furious. Not at you—but at myself. I should have stepped in right away. I should have seen what was really happening. But instead, I let jealousy cloud my mind. I failed you. I promised I'd protect you, and tonight… I let you get hurt. And worse, I hurt you myself."
My heart breaks at the sight of him on his knees, trembling.
I kneel with him and wrap my arms around him tightly.
"Lucien… I just didn't know what to do when you looked at me like I wasn't important to you."
My voice shakes with grief. "Please don't do that to me. It hurts so much I can't even breathe."
He holds me as if I'm the last thing anchoring him to the earth.
And in that quiet, broken embrace, we both realize something:
Love, no matter how powerful, still needs tenderness. Still needs words. Still needs to be chosen—over pride, over fear, over the ache of the past.