The elevator doors opened with a soft ding. Velvet walls, golden lights. And him.
Lucien.
He stepped in like the air belonged to him, like the world should bow. Black suit. Sharp jaw. Eyes like burning storms. Everyone in the office froze. Even the lights seemed to flicker.
I didn't move.
I couldn't.
I shrank behind my desk in the corner—where no one looked, where no one noticed. Except him. His gaze landed on me like a slap. And he didn't look away.
"You're late," he said.
I hadn't spoken to him before. Not like this. I was just the assistant. One of a hundred. But today… Today he spoke my name like it was a sin.
"Ivy."
My voice cracked. "I—I'm sorry, sir. I—"
He walked closer. Slow. Dangerous. Like a storm in a suit. My hands shook. My heart beat too fast.
"You're not invisible to me," he said slowly, like a secret no one else should hear. "Don't try to be."
I swallowed hard. My stepfather's voice echoed in my head—Useless. Weak. Always afraid.
Lucien didn't look away. And I hated that I wanted him to keep looking.
He turned and walked into his glass office, leaving me breathless. His shadow lingered long after he shut the door.
My phone buzzed. A message. Unknown number.
"You're mine now. Don't forget it."
I froze.
Who sent that?
Another message popped in. From Lucien.
"Don't keep secrets from me, Ivy."
My blood ran cold.
How did he know?
The moment I stepped outside for air, I felt him.
Not saw.
Felt.
Lucien's presence wrapped around the air like smoke—dark, thick, choking. I turned fast, heart thudding.
He was leaning against the black car outside the building, arms folded. Waiting.
How long had he been watching me?
"You walk alone at night?" His voice was quiet. Dangerous.
"I needed air," I whispered, hugging myself. My jacket was too thin. My courage was thinner.
Lucien's eyes traveled over me slowly. "Where do you live?"
"No—no need. I can walk."
"I wasn't asking."
He moved closer. I backed up.
"Do I scare you?" he asked.
"Yes," I said honestly.
A cruel smile touched his lips. "Good."
His driver opened the door. Lucien nodded toward it. "Get in."
"I don't even know you," I whispered, trembling.
"You know me enough to shake in front of me."
He stepped closer. I pressed my back against the wall. I was trapped.
Lucien reached out. His fingers brushed my cheek—soft, slow.
"You look like someone who's been broken too many times," he said. "I hate broken things… but I like fixing them when they fight."
"I'm not a project," I whispered.
His gaze darkened. "You're something. I'll figure out what."
He opened the door for me.
"Get in the car, Ivy. Or I'll carry you."
I hesitated.
His jaw tightened.
I got in.
The doors shut.
And I knew something in my life had just ended.
Or begun.