The drive back was quieter than the night before.
Not the comfortable kind of quiet.
Elara stared out the window, replaying the way Lucien's hand had held her in place, the kiss on her temple that still burned like a secret. Her chest felt too tight, her thoughts too loud.
She was in danger.
And she knew it.
When they arrived at the mansion, the lights were on—but the air felt different. Heavy. Charged.
A maid approached hesitantly. "Sir… the storm damaged the guest wing. Repairs will take until morning."
Lucien's jaw tightened. "So?"
"So Madam's room is unavailable tonight."
Elara froze.
Lucien looked at her.
Silence stretched.
"There's another room," she said quickly.
He shook his head. "No time to prepare it."
Her heart pounded. "Then I'll take the couch."
"No," he said firmly. "You're my wife. I won't have staff gossiping."
The words settled like a verdict.
One bedroom.
One bed.
Lucien's.
Inside, the room was darker than hers—sleek, controlled, masculine. The bed sat at the center like a challenge neither of them wanted to face.
"I'll sleep on the couch," he said at last.
Relief washed through her.
But when he turned to leave, the thunder crashed—so loud the walls trembled.
Elara flinched.
Lucien stopped.
"You're afraid of storms," he said.
She hated that he noticed.
"A little," she admitted.
He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Get in the bed."
Her eyes widened. "What?"
"I won't touch you," he said quietly. "I swear."
She hesitated—then nodded.
They lay side by side, a careful distance between them. The rain pounded outside, each thunderclap sending her pulse racing.
"You didn't have to humiliate him," she whispered.
"I wanted to," Lucien replied.
She turned toward him. "Why?"
His voice was rough. "Because he made you feel small."
Her throat tightened.
No one had ever said that for her.
The lightning flashed, illuminating his face—unguarded, almost vulnerable.
"This is dangerous," she said softly.
"Yes," he agreed.
Their eyes locked.
Slowly, unconsciously, their hands brushed.
Neither pulled away.
Lucien's breath hitched.
"Elara," he warned.
"I know," she whispered.
But she didn't move.
Thunder roared.
Lucien rolled away abruptly, gripping the sheets like they were the only thing keeping him grounded.
"We stop here," he said hoarsely. "Before this becomes something we can't undo."
She lay awake long after he fell asleep, staring at the ceiling, heart racing.
Because she already knew the truth.
It was too late.
They had crossed a line the contract never accounted for.
And love didn't care about rules.