It was about to rain for the third time today. I had always hated the rain—the scent that came along with it, the shuffling of trees. It all irked me in ways I couldn't describe, maybe because it reminded me of the day my conceited father promised me to Xaden Lanchester.
I very much remember how my father dragged a four-year-old me to visit the Lanchesters in their unrealistically huge home without my mother's knowledge.
Seventeen years ago, my father went bankrupt after three of his companies were burnt to ash due to arson. At first, he thought he could recover from the loss, but he was always so full of pride. He lived lavishly and acted as though the incident had no effect on him, just to impress The Associates and prove his enemies wrong.
His whole act brought the Harrison empire to rubble. We became the joke at every high-class social gathering—until Noah Lanchester offered my father a deal of partnership.
The Lanchesters didn't save my father out of kindness; they saved him the way wolves save injured deer. Noah Lanchester was the only man alive whose hunger for power rivaled my father's.
Noah offered to invest in my father's crumbling empire in exchange for a marriage union between his ruthless son, Xaden Lanchester, and me. He wanted control of my father's empire, and the easiest way to get that was through a union—but my father was too blind to see it.
The rain fell aggressively, and I was reminded of how much I cried under it when Mr. Lanchester informed me about his deal with my father. I quickly pushed the memory to the back of my mind and ran into my car, still trying to avoid the rain.
For some reason, the car refused to start—as if the day couldn't get any worse. I tried to kick-start my engine like Father taught me, but it didn't seem to help. The mechanic was an hour's drive away, so I was stuck in the rain while my brain flooded me with every horrible experience I had ever endured beneath it.
The sound of my phone ringing snapped me out of my thoughts.
It was Lucas—my boyfriend and the leader of the Tenth revolution group—calling to let me know he was on his way to my apartment to discuss the potential usurp of Devin Rosetti.
Devin, unlike his father, was a master of wine and cards. He was rumored to be best at two things: drugs and women. I had always believed that was a farce after the two encounters I'd had with him—he was far smarter than half of the Associates members my father paraded around with. It was no coincidence that the heir to his father's business happened to be a victim of a "random open fire" just before his father's health drastically declined.
Lucas picked me up from the middle of nowhere, where my car had broken down, thanks to a few descriptions and pictures I sent him.
The drive back to my house was quiet—unlike usual. Lucas and I had been going through some issues lately. Our relationship took a sad turn right after I told him about my father's deal with the Lanchesters. Lucas had never liked my father. He despised him for his greed, his oligarchy, and his involvement with the Associates, but he had never thought of putting him on the radar—not until the day I broke the news to him.
He had the right to be angry. I didn't blame him.
I had left out a crucial piece of information—one that could determine how our future would turn out. I knew Lucas had visions for us. He mentioned them several times after sex, how much he wanted me to be his wife, the mother of his children.
I got down from the car with a frown etched across my face.
"Luc," I called in a hushed tone. I could have sworn he wouldn't hear me if he hadn't gone so still.
I gulped and took three steps closer to him. We were so close I could almost hear his heart racing.
I let out a deep sigh. "Luc, I'm sorry for keeping it from you. I thought it was something I could handle alone, and I was scared you would leave."
I placed a hand on his chest. Surprisingly, he didn't try to remove it—but he said nothing.
I took his silence as permission to continue. I placed my palm on his chin, and his ocean-blue eyes—eyes that had seen through the entirety of me—locked with mine.
God, he looked so good today.
I tried to speak but couldn't form any words, not with those beautiful eyes staring at me. All I could do was imagine a million ways he could punish me—on a counter, in his chambers, on the balcony. I pushed every sexual thought away and gave him a slight smile.
"I'm sorry, Luc. Do whatever you want to punish me, but please—talk to me. I can't stand this silence any longer."
After a minute, he finally spoke.
"Was I just a toy you used to pass time? Why would you make me love you if you knew you weren't mine to keep?"
His voice broke after the last line. His anger slowly faded, and for the first time since I met him five years ago—during the campaign against the Associates, kleptocrats, and oligarchs—he was vulnerable.
I didn't know when a tear rolled down my cheek.
"You weren't a toy. You've always been more than everything to me. How many times do I have to say I love you before you believe me?" I paused, trying to steady my breath before continuing. "I didn't choose this life. I didn't make this decision. I do not want to marry Xaden. These are the decisions of my father. How can we possibly go against him if we don't try to fight for our love?"
My voice cracked as I continued.
"You're so busy fighting the mafia and the Associates that you can't even try to fight for what we have. I told you we could run away. I've been saving—it will be enough to get a house in another country, along with a small business for support."
He gritted his teeth, and every ounce of vulnerability I had seen in him snapped.
"Run away? It's impossible to run away from the Associates. How do you run from your father and Noah?" Before I could interrupt, he continued. "I do not want your father's dirty money. Even if we ran, I'd never take money that dirty."
Ouch.
He must have seen how badly his words hurt me. He wrapped his hands around my waist and leaned in for a gentle kiss.
Considering the tension between us, the kiss burned with desire and every unspoken word we couldn't bring ourselves to say. It wasn't rushed, but it wasn't slow either. It felt like the kind of kiss people share knowing they are about to die—the kind that has nothing to lose.
He swooped me off my feet and carried me gently into the house. His tan skin gleamed under the sunlight, and I stared at him in admiration.
He unlocked the door with the spare key I'd given him and placed me on the countertop. Slowly, he slid off my underwear and let his hands explore me. He kissed me again, but this time it was soft—not burning with desire. Slow. Gentle. As if he never wanted this moment to end, as if he wanted to savor the little time we had together.
I let out a soft moan. My skin yearned for him. It had been weeks since I'd last seen him.
He took off my top.
Then the doorbell rang.
Fuck.
Perfect timing for the others to show up.