THIRD PERSON'S POINT OF VIEW
Steam curled from the pot in Lucian's hands, carrying the rich scent of tomatoes, garlic, and beef caldereta, slow-cooked since dawn. He stepped out of the kitchen to find Sera standing by the table, her head tilted slightly as if she'd tracked the sound of his footsteps. Her voice was thick with sleep.
"What's that?"
He raised an eyebrow, his grip tightening on the pot's handles. How had she found her way here without a hand to guide her?
"How did you even get to"
"Good morning, best friend!"
The words cut through his question, bright and loud. Kidd emerged from behind the door, where he'd clearly been hiding, grinning as he clapped Lucian on the shoulder. He'd been staying at the house for nearly a week now.
"Ah… right." Lucian muttered, setting the pot down with a soft thud on the wood. "Caldereta. That's what we're eating."
Sera laughed a warm, breathy sound that made the tension in his shoulders ease just a little. "Wow. Feels like every meal's a celebration with how much you cook."
"Yep! She's not lying," Kidd chimed in, carrying a stack of plates that clattered against each other as he set them down.
Lucian shot them both a look sharp, but not unkind. "Complaining? If you don't like it, you're welcome to skip eating altogether."
"Hey! No way right, Kidd?" Sera said quickly, reaching out until her fingers brushed the edge of the table.
Kidd nodded so hard his hair fell over his forehead. "Your cooking's insane, man. So good I might just fall for you." He winked, and Lucian scowled.
It had been a week since Sera learned the truth about the marriage contract. A week since he'd sat across from her in this same room and told her why they'd kept it hidden.
Marrying her had never been part of his plan he'd turned Madamé Cathy down three times, knowing what their life required, knowing the risks of tying himself to anyone. But when he'd gone to fetch her, he'd found her parents shoving her out the door, haggling over her price with a wealthy old governor who'd been eyeing her for months.
The sight had hollowed him out. It reminded him of a friend he'd lost years ago, and he'd felt Sera's terror like a fist around his own heart. Blind from saving a stranger, then cast aside by the people who were supposed to love her…
It was wrong. It was exactly why he'd chosen this work so he could make people like that pay.
He wasn't a savior. He wasn't gentle. But he wasn't cruel, either.
If he was honest with himself, he was the softest one in their circle. The others were harder, more willing to do what needed to be done. Only he and Kidd still held onto anything that looked like conscience. Which was why he'd been walking on edge all week. A "happy life" was a luxury their rules forbade.
And still, he couldn't shake the way she'd looked at him that day scared, but not broken. He couldn't figure out why she got under his skin like this.
"Shut up, Kidd. We both know you don't know love from a business deal."
Kidd clutched his chest, staggering back like he'd been shot. "Ouch! That's low! What even is love, anyway can you eat it? Trade it? Make money off it?" He burst out laughing, slapping the table. "Just kidding." His chatter was starting to grind at Lucian's temples.
"When are you going home?" Lucian asked, spooning stew onto his plate as they sat him and Sera side by side, Kidd across the table, far enough away to feel like a buffer.
"There you go again kicking me out before I've even finished eating." Kidd sighed dramatically, pressing the back of his hand to his forehead. "Am I not your favorite? Why is fate so cruel to me!" He pretended to wipe away tears.
Sera chuckled, her shoulders relaxing as she listened. Since Kidd had arrived, the tight space between her and Lucian had lightened a little no more long silences that stretched until they hurt.
"Stop acting like a kid. They need you there Kieran called earlier. You know how he hates waiting."
Kidd shot up from his chair so fast it scraped against the floor. He was out the door in three strides, no goodbye needed. That left Sera and Lucian alone.
Sera cleared her throat, her fingers tracing the rim of her bowl. "Where's Madamé Cathy, by the way?"
Lucian took a bite of stew, chewing slowly before he answered. "Working. Italy, I think." His voice was flat, no warmth to it, and he saw her shoulders slump a little.
For a week now, this was how it had been. He spoke to her, but only in short, careful sentences. He kept his distance, even when he helped her cut her food or guide her to the couch. She felt like she was talking to a wall solid, but impossible to reach.
She let out a heavy sigh, the sound carrying more frustration than she meant it to. "Can we talk about something else? Please?"
He looked up then, his eyes meeting hers though she couldn't see it, she felt the weight of his gaze. She crossed her arms over her chest, her jaw tight.
"Hm?"
"What's wrong with you?" Her voice was sharp now. "You haven't really talked to me in days. It's like you're not even here like I'm just something you're supposed to look after."
"Nothing's wrong." He said it simply, and she frowned, pushing her bowl away.
"Really? Fine. If you say so." She stood slowly, her hand finding the back of her chair for balance. "I'm not gonna beg you to talk to me. Who am I to ask for that, anyway?"
Silence settled over the room again. They finished their breakfast without another word just the scrape of spoons on bowls, the hum of the fridge in the kitchen. Afterward, Lucian helped her back to her room, his hand light on her elbow, and told her he'd be back when it was time to shower.
Now she was sitting on her bed, her hands folded in her lap, waiting for the sound of his footsteps in the hall.
"Why am I even worrying about him?" she muttered, lying back against the pillows. The sheets were cool against her skin. "It's not like we're actually married."
Darkness stretched out in front of her always there, always the same. The only sound was the electric fan spinning overhead, a soft whir that filled the quiet. Since she'd come here, her thoughts had grown heavy, slow. Maybe it was the blindness when you couldn't see, you had nothing to do but think.
"Ha. Ha. What else would it be? Am I losing my mind?" She laughed, but it came out bitter, sharp.
"I wonder how they are now…" Images flickered through her head her mother's tight mouth, her father's calloused hands as he counted money. The ones who'd let her go so easily.
She found herself wondering if she hadn't run when she'd heard them talking, if Lucian hadn't been there to take her away what would have happened?
"Probably… he would have bought me. Used me. Thrown me away when he was done."
That was why the governor had wanted her, after all. Young, blind easy to control.
"I'm not pretty. My skin's not smooth. I've got marks from when I fell, before I learned how to move without seeing." She traced a scar on her arm, laughing through the tightness in her throat. "Why me?"
She didn't know Lucian was standing in the open doorway, his shoulder leaning against the frame, watching her every move. He'd been there since she'd sat down, listening to every word.
How do I tell her? He ran a hand over his face, his palm rough against his stubble. How do I explain I've been acting like a bastard because I'm frustrated?
"Fuck I think I'm going crazy too." He cursed under his breath, his jaw tight.
The truth was ridiculous, embarrassing. The reason he'd been so cold, so distant? He was disappointed. A week ago, she'd asked him to help her shave to take care of the parts she couldn't reach on her own. And he'd been waiting ever since, fighting the urge to ask again, fighting the way his body had reacted when he'd imagined it.
All week, he'd avoided being alone with her. When he'd helped her bathe, he'd kept his eyes on the wall, even when she was wrapped in a towel. When she'd gotten dressed, he'd turned away, his hands clenched into fists to keep from reaching for her.
It was insane. He felt like a teenager, not a man who'd built an empire with his own hands. A billionaire, a leader and he was losing his grip over a woman he was supposed to keep at arm's length.
He wanted to touch her, to feel the soft curve of her skin under his hands. He wanted to tease her, to take his time with her, to do exactly what she'd asked him to do.
But she hadn't brought it up again, and he'd been left twisting every look, every brush of their hands, making him want more than he should.
What am I supposed to do? he whispered, then heard her mutter to herself:
"Damn you, Lucian! What's wrong with that man? He's probably ugly anyway. Get a grip, Sera!"
He let out a quiet laugh she was just as confused as he was, just as caught off guard by whatever this was between them.
A smirk touched his lips. Hmm. Could this be my chance? He bit down on his lower lip, feeling the sharp sting of his teeth.
This time, he let his footsteps be loud heavy on the wood floor, so she'd know he was there.
"L Lucian…?"
"Seraphina." His voice was low, rough from disuse, and he watched her shiver saw the goosebumps rise on her arms.
"W Were you there the whole time?"
He stopped at the edge of the bed, saying nothing as he slid his hands under her arms and lifted her into his chest. She was lighter than he'd expected, warm against his skin.
"Lucian!" She gasped, her hands flying to his shoulders, fingers curling into his shirt.
"You owe me something."
Her heart was beating so fast he could feel it against his own chest. "W What? What are you talking about?"
"A week ago… you asked me to help you shave." He leaned his face close to hers, so she could feel his breath on her cheek. "Let's do it now."
He felt her go still in his arms, then heard the soft sound of her jaw dropping.