Chapter 10 – I Almost Obeyed
(Lucien Moretti's POV)
I do not avoid people.
People avoid me.
Yet as I walked down the long corridor toward the dining hall that afternoon, I found myself slowing my steps.
Ridiculous.
I was not avoiding her.
I simply did not feel like entertaining her attitude.
Her sharp tongue. Her defiance. Her refusal to bend.
For a brief second, I considered turning back.
Skipping breakfast.
But no.
I maintain discipline in everything — including my health. I do not skip meals. I do not neglect routine.
Control begins with the body.
So I continued walking.
The dining hall doors were already open.
Sunlight filtered through the tall windows, reflecting against polished marble floors. The long table was set perfectly — silverware aligned, crystal glasses gleaming, fresh flowers arranged at the center.
And then I saw her.
I stopped.
What… is she wearing?
She sat at the table as if she owned it, back straight, legs crossed casually.
Wearing nothing but her bathing robe.
The soft fabric wrapped around her loosely, tied carelessly at the waist. Her damp hair fell around her shoulders, slightly messy, slightly wild.
Eating.
Peacefully.
As if nothing had happened.
As if I hadn't grabbed her face. As if she hadn't rejected my clothes. As if we weren't standing on a battlefield disguised as a mansion.
But that wasn't what stopped me.
It was what she was wearing.
A white bathrobe.
Soft. Loose. Barely tied.
The fabric clung lightly at her waist, the collar dipping just enough to expose the delicate curve of her collarbone. Her hair was slightly damp, falling naturally over her shoulders.
She looked…
Unbothered.
Casual.
In my dining room.
In a robe.
I frowned slightly as I walked closer.
She looked up mid-bite.
No panic.
No scrambling.
Just calm eyes meeting mine.
Then she gestured casually to the chair beside her.
"Sit."
Not a request.
A gesture.
An instruction.
For a moment—
I felt something unfamiliar.
A flicker of guilt.
For grabbing her earlier. For the aggression. For the unnecessary force.
I exhaled quietly and pulled the chair out.
I sat.
And then—
I paused.
What just happened?
I stared ahead.
Did I just… obey her?
The realization hit like a slap.
I stood abruptly.
The chair scraped loudly against the floor.
She blinked at me.
Confused.
I pulled the chair back into place with more force than necessary and walked away from the table without a word.
Behind me, I heard her sigh.
A soft shake of her head.
"Psycho," she murmured.
I heard it.
I kept walking.
Back in my office, I shut the door firmly.
What is wrong with me?
She sits there in a bathrobe in my house, eating like she owns it, gestures for me to sit — and I almost comply without thought?
I walked toward the wall of security monitors.
My eyes scanned until I found her.
She was no longer in the dining hall.
The feed switched.
There.
The study she slept in.
She was standing near the shelves, running her fingers across old book spines, reading titles with mild curiosity.
Still in the robe.
Still.
In the robe.
I exhaled sharply.
So she'd rather wear a bathrobe than the expensive dress I provided?
I rolled my eyes.
Incredible.
She rejected the dress. Called it awful.
Refused to wear it.
And now this.
A bathrobe.
God.
I pressed the intercom.
"Send the guards in."
They entered within seconds.
"Yes, boss."
"She's going shopping."
They blinked.
"Boss?"
"She will choose what she wants. Something that 'feels like her.'"
The words tasted strange.
Unnecessary.
Yet I said them anyway.
I removed my debit card from my wallet and handed it over.
Their eyes widened slightly.
"Take her to the mall. Do not let her step out of the car unless you are physically present. She is not to walk alone."
"Yes, boss."
I paused.
I wasn't worried about her running.
And even if she did—
I would find her.
That was simple.
If she runs, I pick her up.
End of story.
"She does not leave your sight," I added firmly.
"Yes, boss."
They exited.
I turned back to the monitor.
Moments later, I saw them knock on her door.
This time, they knocked.
She opened it cautiously.
They delivered the message.
And what happened next—
Surprised me.
She jumped.
Actually jumped.
Joy lighting up her entire face.
She rushed back inside the room.
I watched as she spun once in excitement, dancing slightly, hands in the air like a child given unexpected freedom.
And without meaning to—
I smiled.
A real one.
Subtle. But real.
I leaned back slightly, watching the screen.
She was happy.
Over clothes.
Ridiculous.
And yet…
It felt strangely satisfying.
Then—
She reached into the pile on the bed.
And pulled out the rejected dress.
My smile faded.
She held it up again.
Studying it.
Then she placed it down and reached for the knot of her robe.
My body reacted before my mind did.
She was about to change.
Right there.
On the screen.
Her fingers loosened the fabric slightly at her waist—
My eyes widened.
Heat rushed instantly to my face.
I switched off the monitor.
Immediately.
The screen went black.
Silence filled my office.
My heartbeat was louder than it should have been.
What is wrong with you?
Why didn't I just look away sooner?
Why was I watching?
She's infuriating. Disobedient. Provoking.
Not pleasing at all.
And yet—
My chest felt tight.
My ears were warm.
My pulse slightly uneven.
I ran a hand through my hair, exhaling sharply.
This is weakness.
Distraction.
A lapse in discipline.
She is nothing more than a problem tied to stolen money.
And yet—
The image lingered.
White fabric. Bare shoulders. Unaware of being watched.
I closed my eyes briefly.
This is unacceptable.
I do not react like this.
Not to anyone.
Especially not to someone who calls me psycho.
My jaw tightened.
Get control, Lucien.
She is temporary.
A situation.
A complication.
Nothing more.
And yet—
For the first time in years—
My heart did not feel entirely steady.
And that unsettled me far more than her defiance ever could.