It is creeping past 11:55 p.m., the kind of quiet that feels too thick for a normal night. The only sound in my room is the soft tick of the wall and the click of chess pieces sliding across the polished wooden board between me and Lucien.
I fix my gaze on the board, my lower lip twitching between my teeth. I have been planning my next move for a solid three minutes, thinking I have him this time...when Lucien's hand moves. Not a rush, but not hesitation either. Just that slow, deliberate reach of his long fingers, the pad of his thumb brushing over the bishop before he claims it.
My breath hitches. "You..." I lean back, blinking like he has just pulled the rug out from under me. "How could you do this? You took my bishop."
Lucien leans back in his chair, the ghost of a smirk playing at his mouth. "You are the one who wanted to play. This is my world. My rules." His voice is low, but there isn't the usual bite.
My heart thuds a little harder, not that I have to admit it. I scoop up my knight and let it tap down on the board, knocking one of his pawns aside with more force than necessary. "Your world's got lousy rules."
Lucien chuckles under his breath, eyes still on the board. The lamplight catches in, making that dark brow look almost dangerous. "Yet you are still here."
I ignore the heat creeping up my neck and keep my eyes on the game. My fingers hover over my rook, then slide it forward, cornering one of his knights. He never flinches, no matter how hard the situation is on the board. He always studies as if it is a map to something only he understands.
His hands move again, casual as fuck, and this time my queen disappears under his palm.
I snap up my head. "You are enjoying this way too much."
"Maybe." His lips curved into something that isn't quite a smile. "Or maybe I am just better at it."
I roll my eyes, pushing my hair back over one shoulder. "There is only one way to find out who is better, and that is to finish the board."
Lucien rests his elbow on the table, leaning in slightly. "And I just want to see your face when you lose." His voice is controlled, danger wrapping around the words.
I swallow hard. The air in a room feels charged, though I can't tell if it is the game or him. Maybe both.
I look at him. "Not a chance."
We trade pieces for a while, marking every tiny victory and loss. I take his rook; he claims my last pawn. My hands are steady, but my pulse isn't. His moves are not rushed but intentional, like he wants me to feel the pressure.
I am lining up a defense when his phone chimes in his pocket. Short and sharp. Lucien reaches for his pocket, takes out his phone, and his eyes flick to the screen. Whenever he makes his expression tighten, that means he gotta go. And I was right; he started rising from the chair.
"Really?" I lean back, crossing my arms. "Eleven months, Lucien. Eleven. And every single time—" I point at the board. "Something or someone pulls you away before we finish one damn game."
He stops, looking down at me. For a moment, his expression is, like always, unreadable. "I know."
I pull together my brows. "Then stay. Just this once." I don't know how, but finally tonight I said it, in a flow of frustration about his going away every time, in the middle of the game.
A beat of silence. He ticks his jaw, eyes locking with mine in that way that feels like he can see every thought in my head. Fuck, he can't see the mess of my head. He shouldn't; otherwise, I won't be able to take my revenge on those four evil souls.
Without saying a word, he walks toward the door. No rush in his stride, no explanation, just that quiet certainty that says he doesn't owe me one. I look at the half-played board, my fingers curling around the base of my remaining queen. I hate that part of me wants to follow him, to ask what is more important than this—than us, even if "us" isn't a real thing.
The click of the door closing feels louder than the clock ticking. I sit here in the dim light, eyes drifting over the board, over the empty spaces where my pieces were standing.
In Lucien's world, I think you never see the end coming.
And in my world? You never get it at all.
I don't remember leaving the chair—just the vague ache in my neck when I wake up, curled on the couch. The morning light pushes through the curtains. I stand up and walk into the bathroom. After taking a shower, I go to the kitchen.
There is no sign of Clara, Beatrice, and, for the first time, Viviana. My coffee and croissant are waiting for me on the island. To be honest, this kitchen looks incomplete without Viviana's presence in it.
I finish my breakfast and pour myself another cup of coffee, and walk outside the kitchen. The cup is warming in my hands, and I am drawn toward the floor-to-ceiling windows at the far end of the east wing.
Here I can see the drive.
A black Maybach rolls through the gates, and Lucien steps out. Same suit he was wearing last night, no tie, sunglasses, his stride unhurried but commanding as usual.
I tighten my fingers around the cup. Watching him has become a habit I won't admit to, even to myself. He feels like a distant storm until he's not; then suddenly he's everywhere at once.
"You know." A voice takes me back from Lucien's trance. "Wanting him is one thing. Surviving him is another one."
I turn my head. Viviana is standing here, holding a flower vase. I force a smile I don't feel. "Morning to you, too."
She tilts her head and continues. "You think you know what you are looking at, but you don't."
"I am not—" I don't know what to say, so I shut my mouth in the middle of the sentence.
Viviana smooths her dress. "Anaya, now is the time you should know his rules. He doesn't play small. And when you are in his orbit, you either burn out fast...or you get used to the heat."
I shake my head. "Careful, Anaya," she sighs. "The line between wanting and surviving isn't as wide as you think."
Before my mind processes what she just said, Viviana turns on her heels and walks away. Leaving me restless.
I hate how Viviana's words struck. Surviving him. The phrase curls in my chest like smoke. Did Viviana know anything about my aim—about my plan to earn Lucien's trust? Or is she just guessing? Or maybe she is not even guessing. She is just warning me, like everyone else who lives in this mansion.