"It's simple, really. Send a chest filled with whips, ropes and shackles before her estate," Lucian said, his grin stretching further, "And then, add a note saying: 'My beloved, I can't wait for our next encounter.'"
"Huh? That's it?" Jax's face fell, "That's lame. Why don't we just send her a box filled with spiders and snakes? That would scare the shit out of her."
"Send both, and see which one she responds to more," Lucian chuckled, his voice sounding ominous, "Every single ripple in her expressions will be reported back to me."
"Okay." Jax yawned and leaned his head against the cushion, closing his eyes, "Why can't you do it yourself? Just buy a whip and shackle and tie her up yourself."
"I'm just helping you out with your revenge, Jax," said Lucian, throwing the small box with the brooch toward him, "You mentioned that someone nobles gave you a hard time in the past. Use that title to play around a bit, and see how much of a difference it makes. I bet it will be entertaining."
Jax opened the box and examined the brooch carefully, "An Earl?" his eyes widened, "I'll be an Earl?! Hell yeah! Wait till I show them, those rich bastards. I'll show them, alright! Earl Jax the Great!" he exclaimed, laughing and kissing the brooch happily, "Earl Jax the Great is back and here to stay!" He then threw himself at Lucian's feet like a devoted disciple, sniffing dramatically, "Boss… this is too much. I don't deserve this honor."
"I'm conveniently your Boss now, huh?" Lucian smiled, nudging Jax away with his boot.
Jax was like a little brother to him, and although they weren't related by blood, they were bound together by their friendship. He wasn't the most elegant or refined gentleman, but he had a big heart.
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The carriage stopped before a villa, and Jax jumped outside, still laughing and kissing his newly assigned title.
Lucian followed behind.
It would take Jax five days to reach Rochefort's territory. Celine should be staying in one of the family villas close to the capital, which meant that they would be taking the same route.
It didn't take long for Lucian's subordinates to report back. The defense the duke set up around her was impenetrable, and not even Lucian's connections could get him access to her, much less the information regarding her health or the state of her recovery.
That woman knew her opponents well; after all, knowing your enemies was also a part of her curriculum.The question was, who were her allies? She couldn't possibly depend on her father alone, could she? She made an enemy out of every single bachelor in the capital, yet somehow managed to stay safe.
Lucian rubbed the bridge of his nose, recalling moments he had shared with her.
"Old goats triple my age."
"Old farts who haven't seen their prime in decades."
"Old coots with a taste for the young and fresh."
Her parties were attended by the nobles, the influential families and the wealthiest merchants and businessmen. Her balls were famous, and her invitations were highly coveted.
Of course, she had supporters and sponsors. Ones that cared little about one's reputation, and more about their influence. Profits mattered more than morality and honor, and connections could wash away the dirtiest of crimes and sins.
Rochefort's duchy had been flourishing, and it was a perfect place to invest, especially if the profits were guaranteed, and the returns were high. Celine wasn't just an object. She was a valuable tool, and the key to many doors, which was why she could get away with being an arrogant and shameless little hussy.
She could be dissing the young masters in public and buy their parents'permission in private. She would continue to invest in them and they would continue to cover for her, all for the sake of a share in the profits.
Lucian sighed. Just because he spent the last five years expanding his influence didn't mean she didn't do the same.
She squeezed all the benefits she could out of Rochefort's name, and made the most of her father's "doting" to establish her own network, her own connections, and her own support.
It was all an assumption, but the subtle clues he was getting from his sources pointed him in the right direction.
'You are doing it again. You are putting her on a pedestal. Stop glorifying her. That is not how you win.'
Lucian shook his head, dropping on his bed face down. Seeing her after such a long time was harder than he imagined. She looked so cute all dolled up like a porcelain doll. The effort she put into her appearance must have taken hours to prepare. And all he wanted to do at that moment was to ruin it. He wanted to rub her cheek and smear her rouge all over his own face.
His fingers twitched, recalling the way he loosened the corset, continuing down the line, untying the ribbons until the dress slipped off her body.
He buried his face into his pillow, muffling a groan. He didn't come here to fall in love with her all over again, he came here to crush her, and destroy her, and make her suffer.
This time, it would be his turn to hold the reins, and make her cry and scream his name. This time, he would be the one to toy with her. The one who would make her beg for his mercy.
His heart pounded in his chest as he got off the bed, taking out the handkerchief from his pocket.
He needed a cold bath.
A really, really, really cold one.
And this thing, this little scrap of fabric, needed a thought scrubbing, and a thorough wash too.
He would make sure it was clean.
So clean it would carry nothing but his scent.
His, and his alone.