I wake up with a strange peace in my chest. No pressure weighs me down. Just...silence. Peace.
My lashes flutter open, and for a second, I don't even recognize the feeling.
When was the last time I woke up like this?
Not even at Brooks mansion. That place has been nothing but high walls and higher expectations. I lived in a constant state of motion, planning, calculating, and surviving. I used to wake up with a mental to-do list screaming in my head.
Every morning used to feel like waking up mid-sprint.
But this?
This is different.
I sit up slowly, my back brushing the velvet headboard, the sheets pooling around my waist. My fingers brush my temples as flashes of last night creep in.
Lucien.
The way he walked into my room like a storm and he stayed like a shield. His raw concern for me, combined with the quiet gentleness of how he held me, grounded me while I fought off the ghosts that were clawing at my sleep.
The version of Lucien Moretti that I experienced—quiet, present, and human—was not the same icy cold mafia king I had met on my first night in this mansion.
Who was that man last night?
I look around the room, my eyes catching the faint glow of morning sneaking past the heavy drapes. A smile tugs at the corner of my lips when I remember what Rafe teased me with a few days ago.
Lucien has eyes on you all the time, even in the room.
At the time, I ignored him. But now...
Smile vanishes from my lips and my eyes-widen.
Was Rafe actually telling the truth?
My heart does an odd little flip.
I slip out of bed, walking across the hardwood floor. After a hot shower that does little to cool the strange warmth rising in my chest, I wrap myself in a towel and step into my room.
And freeze.
Lucien is sitting on my bed like he owns it. Actually, he owns the damn mansion. His one leg drapes over the other, hand resting on his knee. His eyes meet mine and linger.
too long.
too slowly.
Like he is undressing me with his eyes.
I clutch the towel tighter around my chest.
"Ever heard of knocking?" I mutter, trying to sound annoyed.
He smirks. That lazy, wicked smirk.
"Remember? No locked door in this house, especially not between you and me."
I make a tsking sound. "Can you at least turn around?" I ask him.
Lucien doesn't even move a bit. "I have seen more than that, sweetheart."
His tone is smooth, almost bored. Like it's not a big deal to see me naked or in a towel.
I clear my throat and pull open my dresser with a loud yank, desperate to shift the energy. I change behind the wardrobe door, still feeling his eyes like heat on my back.
After slipping into jeans and a tank top, I walk toward him. "I need to go out."
My brows rise. "Out?"
"Yes. As in outside this heavily guarded, gorgeous-but-claustrophobic mansion. I need a few things."
Lucien tilts his head. "No."
I blink. "Why? Do you think I will run?"
"Do you think you can?" His voice is firm. Too firm.
I narrow my eyes. "Lucien. All I am asking is to go to a store. A hardly damn hour outside of these gates."
His jaw tightens, clearly battling with himself.
I soften my tone. "Please. You can send an army of your men to keep a watch on me."
A beat pass.
Then, with a frustrated sigh, he stands. "Fine. But it's just a one-time thing."
I nod with a smile on my face. "Yes, I promise."
As he disappears down the hall, I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
I go to the kitchen, where my coffee and croissant are waiting for me. I start sipping coffee at the kitchen island and biting a buttery croissant. This is starting to feel dangerously normal. I am halfway through my second bite when Elena struts in like she owns the entire morning.
"Okay." She tosses her oversized sunglasses on the counter. "I am going with you. But let me make one thing painfully clear. I am not gonna play fashion expert. You are not gonna drag me through some emotional meltdown over lush pink versus hot pink. I have boundaries."
I throw my head back and burst into laughter, nearly choking on my croissant. "No guarantees for that. You should see my closet. Only solid colors. No evidence of life."
Elena frowns. "Hey. I choose them."
I finish the last sip of my coffee, wipe my fingers on a napkin, then stand and adjust the hem of my tank. "Alright, let's get this over with before I regret agreeing to it," Elena says, grabbing her sunglasses.
I chuckle. "You say that like I am dragging you into war."
Elena shoots a look at me. "Have you seen mall parking lots on a Saturday?"
Fair enough.
It feels like after ages I am experiencing the mall music, perfumes mixed in the air, shoppers buzzing with weekend energy. It all seems too bright, too loud. Too alive.
I try on two strappy heels and roll my eyes when Elena holds her hands and says. "Pick one. Or neither. Or both. Just don't ask me. I am just here for some favor, I am returning to Lucien."
I laugh, holding up sparkly blue heels. "At least tell me how..."
I stop in the middle of my sentence because in that exact second, I turn around and freeze.
Autumn.
Autumn is standing a few feet away. Holding a designer bag, flanked by shopping bags.
She is one of the people who stabbed me and threw me out of my own empire. All memories start to flash through my head that I had almost forgotten.
Autumn's eyes widen, lips parting. "A-Anaya?"
I blink. Just once. Then smile, too wide, too easy.
"Hey, stranger."
Autumn looks like she has seen a ghost. "But...you are...how..." Her eyes are moving up and down me; maybe she is not sure what she is watching. "You are supposed to be in..." She lowers her voice. "Prison."
I clench my jaw. Of course. That is what they all thought. What they wanted to believe.
"I was." I shrug and brush an invisible lint speck off my tank. "But apparently, I don't follow the rules. Shocker, right?"
Autumn steps closer. Still scanning me. "You look...good."
I tilt my head and smile perfectly. "You too. Very Stepford Wives go luxury. Tell Ethan her sister said hi."
Autumn's expression falters...is it guilt? Maybe. Or maybe not. Maybe I just want to see it.
"I...I didn..." She stammers.
I cut her off, still with a picture-perfect smile. "It's okay."
In reality, it isn't.
And I'll be damned if Autumn sees the crack forming in my chest. I lean in slightly. "You and Ethan probably think I have been rotting somewhere in a cold cell. Miserable. Forgotten. But babe..."
I let out a delicious laugh.
"Could you both be any more wrong?"
Without waiting for her response, I turn on my heel and walk off. Head high. Shoulders square.