The daylight filters through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the hall while I sit on a couch, wrapping my hands around a mug of coffee and trying to make myself ease and calm in this gothic and cold mansion. Today I draw the curtains back for the first time and let sunlight enter to get rid of shadowy vibes.
I look around and see that Clara is arranging flowers like the rest of the world doesn't matter to her. "Clara." I clear my throat, keeping my voice even. "Can you help me meet Lucien?"
She lifts her head and pinches her brows. "I don't know anyone here who can help you with that."
She just shakes her head and goes back to her flowers. Frustration rushes through my body, so I walk away and look for someone else who can help me.
I find Beatrice and Viviana lounging near the back terrace. "How can I talk to Lucien? There is gotta be some way you guys contact him, or at least tell him when you have got something to say."
Beatrice looks at me like she has just asked for the moon, then gives a lazy shrug. "That never happens. Lucien is the one who decides when to meet us and when to talk to us."
I raise my brow. "What about if you have something urgent or important?"
Beatrice shakes her head. I tighten my mouth. "So you are telling me he is untouchable?"
"That is exactly what I am telling you," Beatrice smirks faintly.
Viviana doesn't even look up from her book.
I shake my head, refusing to accept it. No way I am going to sit here like a piece of furniture waiting to get his invitation.
I am still thinking about how to talk to Lucien when Elena walks in the hall. "Are you okay?" she asks with concern in her voice.
I squint and lean back slightly. "It was all planned, right? I know everything, so please drop it."
Elena blinks. "What are you talking about?"
I cross my arms. "Lucien, sending me out. Bumping into my evil best friend, and then conveniently, a phone was left out in the open. " I poke my temple. "Buzzing something."
Elena holds up her hands. "I don't know if it was all planned."
A flicker in her eyes tells me she is not lying, so I ask her. "Where can I find him?"
Elena hesitates, then says. "He is in his wing. With Rafe. No one ever goes to him unless he invites."
I walk towards her. "Take me."
Elena is staring at me like I have lost my mind. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious."
A few minutes later, I am standing in the wide, darker corridor of Lucien's wing. The air feels heavier here, cooler somehow, with the walls covered with framed maps and old photographs.
Lucien is by the window when we enter; Rafe is leaning against a desk nearby. Lucien turns his head just enough to see me, his expression, like always, unreadable.
"I need to speak to you," I say before he can dismiss me.
He nods to Rafe, who slips out silently.
"I didn't break any rule." I begin, "Nor was I trying to contact anyone outside. I told you, I have no intention of running away from...from this mansion."
I don't know why, I wanted to say from you. But I stop myself from saying it and change in the last moment.
Lucien is watching me in a way like he always does, measuring my every word.
"But I have nothing to do all day here." I go on, taking a step closer. "I have no phone. No laptop. I don't know anything about the outside world. I am twenty-eight and in all these years, I have never been cut off like this."
My voice starts to falter, not from weakness or any fear but from the weight of saying it all out loud. "Even in prison, we occasionally allowed to watch TV."
Lucien's voice maintains the same authority, but this time it makes no sense. "So you want a TV?"
I blink a few times to make sure what I heard is right. Then I shake my head and scrunch my nose. "No."
Lucien raises his brow. I squeeze my eyes and continue. "I mean. Not that I will mind for TV, but..."
I roll my lips and nod. "Yeah. All I want is a TV."
I turn around and walk out of his wing. I curse myself for even trying.
An hour later, I find myself sitting on the couch, struggling to resist the urge to throw the nearest vase at someone's head. The screen guys have just finished bolting the brand-new TV to the wall, wiping their hands and acting like they have installed the crown jewels.
Lucien handed me this "gift" like it solved everything. "Something to keep you busy," he says and walks away.
Busy.
Right.
Because clearly the problem was that I didn't have cable. I tried to explain it to him and how I am not plotting some grand escape or running secret comms with the FBI. Mister Mafia Boss stood silently with an unreadable expression, gazing at me as if I were speaking underwater.
How does somebody run an entire criminal empire if he doesn't understand simple logic? Does he just grunt at meetings and let Rafe and Elena do the job?
My jaw tightens as my fingers drum against my thigh.
Sure, Lucien. Give me a TV. That fixes every problem of my life.
Right now, I half-expected him to offer me a coloring book next.
Still, I am not gonna reject it. A TV is a TV. I haven't watched anything since what? it feels like forever. My nerves are twitching for something to distract me before I actually go for a vase.
Lucien comes back and smirks at me like he has solved world hunger. I have just nodded, because fighting him is like arguing with a brick wall in an Armani suit.
"Thanks," I mutter and now I have a remote in my hand, sinking into the couch like a sulky teenager.
I flip channels, not really caring what is on, just glad to hear voices that don't belong to anyone in the mansion. I watch game shows, cooking competitions, and a sitcom rerun before my thumb freezes mid-click.
My thumb freezes mid-click.
The news anchor is talking about a big merger deal. The screen flashed two men shaking hands with ear-to-ear smiles. Ethan Brooks and Cole Bennett.
My stomach drops. I sit up straight, leaning forward, eyes locked on the screen. Tickers at the bottom. "Multi-million dollar agreement."
"Solidifying market control."
The way anchors are talking about Ethan and Cole, it feels like they are saints building orphanages. But I know better. This is all boiling my blood.
My blood boils, a mixture of fury and dread clawing its way through my chest. I can already imagine Lucien's reaction if he sees me watching this. He'll probably twist it into a new accusation.
So I immediately turn off the TV and, stomping my feet, walk out onto the lawn to get some fresh air. I need to clear my head, as their happy faces are triggering me hard from inside.