I am sitting on the velvet settee in one of the lesser-used halls of the mansion. A book is open in my lap. This hall is near the library; I don't know why I wander into that part of the wing. My eyes have been locked on the same line for over an hour, not that I can recall a single word.
The library is massive; I assumed it was off-limits like so much of this place. Also, why would my captor let me explore a place where a lot of secrets can be buried? But no one has stopped me from coming into a library, and here I feel like no one is watching me. Not even Lucien.
A low sigh escapes my lips when his name comes to my mind again. I run a thumb along the book's edge. Again, thoughts and questions are barraging my mind. Why Lucien has invited me to dinner with his inner circle like I belonged. When I don't. Not really.
The conversation from last night keeps looping in my head. I keep thinking about Lucien's calm voice, his cryptic statements, and the way he watches me without actually saying anything. Like I am a puzzle, and he has already solved it.
Here I am, the one stuck with missing pieces.
I feel like a lock with no key. full of questions. And absolutely no way to open the damn door.
Footsteps echo down the corridor, and I am confused because you don't have to use this hall until you need to go to my room. Footsteps are sharp and steady, not in any rush.
I look up.
A woman turns the corner like she owns the place, wrapped in a white fur-lined coat over a skin-tight silk dress that shimmers with every step. She wears diamond earrings, has perfect red lipstick, and her dark waves of hair fall down on her shoulders.
Two guards stand behind her, maintaining a stiff posture. Her eyes land on me instantly and I smile.
"Well," her voice is smooth as poisoned honey. "You are not what I expected."
I straighten slightly, setting the book aside. "Hi...I am..."
"I know who you are." She waves her hand as if swatting a mosquito. "The stray Lucien picked up."
Confusion and anger rush into my brain.
She continues to spray her venom. "You have no presence at all. You really are the pet, huh?"
I feel my cheeks burn. My brain is lagging behind, trying to catch up to the whiplash of insult.
She chuckles loudly enough. "Goc, you are even dumber than you look. Cute."
"Valeria." Viviana's voice slices through the hallway.
I turn, surprised to see her standing here, arms crossed, gaze cold.
"Lucien is waiting," Viviana adds pointedly. "In his wing."
Valeria smirks, blowing a kiss in my direction before swaying past. "Don't wait up, sweetheart."
When she is gone, I finally exhale; my throat is tight. Viviana doesn't say anything, just gives me a look that's almost...protective.
I am grateful for the interruption. But why, on earth, does it hurt like hell when Viviana sends Valeria to Lucien?
I look at Viviana, jaw clenched. So what? Let him fuck whoever he wants. It isn't like I care.
"Who is she?" I ask in a voice barely above a whisper.
Viviana doesn't pretend not to know. She looks sideways and makes a perfect line with her lips. "Valeria Armanetti."
I nod once. "She is...intense."
Viviana dryly laughs. "She is a masterpiece...beautiful, heinous, and raised by wolves."
I blink at that detail. "That sounds... a lot. I mean affectionate."
"It's not." Viviana shakes her head. "She is dangerous in ways you don't even recognize yet. But that is not why she is here."
I cross my arms. "So, why is she?"
Viviana shifts slightly. "She is a daughter of Carlo Armanetti. The senator. Been dirty for years. His old money has mob ties so deep they reach the floor of the Senate."
I swallow. "Lucien's political contact."
Viviana nods. "And his ex."
My stomach gives a slow twisting lurch on this one. "She has been around a long time. She knows exactly how this world works. She is trained to obey Lucien, not to question him."
I open my mouth to ask more about their relationship, but Viviana waves her hand. "Good night, Anaya," and walks away. She feeds enough information to light a fire deep inside me.
I pick up my book and walk to my room. I toss the book on my bed and sit right in front of a mirror on my vanity, like it holds some secret I haven't figured out yet.
The lights are low and there is eerie silence all around me but inside my chest there is noise. I stare at my reflection: no makeup, tired eyes, and hair pulled up in a bun at the top of my head. Not ugly. But not that.
Not Valeria.
My mind starts spinning with multiple questions, like if Valeia walked into a room, would Lucien's gaze lift slowly and measuredly? The way he does with me.
Would he blink? Or would he just...know?
Would their eyes meet like magnets, drawn by shared history or, like mine, things left unsaid?
Would there be a similar silence between them, one that is either heavy with meaning or awkward, as I have experienced?
I press my lips together and look down at my hands.
I start imagining how Lucien might look at Valeria, like a man who has chosen her.
And the way he looks at me...?
Curious. studying. Like a problem to solve. A disruption. A fucking complication.
A lock without a key.
My chest is rising with a slow breath, and I don't release right away.
Valeria just walks into his mansion like she belongs to it. Like she was born to excel in Lucien's world. She is truly sharpened by fire and blood and politics.
And I have been dragged in, with the scandal in my name and questions in my head.
What makes a difference?
I shake my head hard and tell myself over and over again. It's ridiculous.
But my mind keeps drifting back there anyway, to Valeria's perfect smirk, to the way the air changes when she walks in, to the way Lucien may look at her when they are alone.
I shake my head again. Then again. Like, I can knock the images out by force. I draw my knees up under my robe and hug them to my chest, staring at my reflection one last time, soft and tired. My eyes are red-rimmed, and I haven't even cried.
I lean forward and switch off the light. I stand up and fall on my back in bed. Darkness wrapped around me, and somewhere between a quiet sigh and a clench in my throat, softening, I doze off, still trying to outrun the image of Lucien and Valeria together alone at this time of night.
And deep down, a wish emanates in my gut that Lucien would look at me the way I am imagining he looks at Valeria.