Control. I need to control my instinct.
I look at her. At the fear she’s trying to mask. At the strength she doesn’t know she carries.
“Briar,” I say, voice low, steady only because I lock every muscle to keep it that way. “I will not let him hurt you again.”
Her eyes glisten. “Lucien…please don’t do something you can’t come back from. I can’t live in the underworld again. I can’t live in fear, from both inside my home and out. I just can’t.” She pauses. “Promise me everything you’ll do to fight Matteo will be legal. That you’ll call the cops and have them deal with his threats.”
I inhale sharply. She sees it. She sees the darkness in me. And she’s afraid I’ll step into the world she barely escaped. “I’m not him,” I say, cupping her jaw gently. “I’m not Matteo. And I’m not my father.”
Her breath shivers out. “Then don’t become that man for me.”
The words hit harder than any blow. Because I don’t know if I can protect her without breaking the rules I built my empire on.And I don’t know if I can stay clean… Not when Matteo Romero is hunting the woman standing in front of me.
SEVENTEEN
LUCIEN
I stand therein the middle of my office, hands shoved into my pockets, jaw locked so tight I’m surprised my teeth don’t crack. Don’t become that man for me? How the hell was I supposed to not become that man when she was clearly in danger. Still, I had to try. I had to fight the urge that was as imbedded in me as this woman was starting to become.
I drag a slow breath in, stare at the closed door of my office Briar disappeared through and force myself not to follow her. The urge is vicious—chase her, catch her wrist, make her look at me, demand she understand that every damn thing I do is to protect her—but I promised myself I would never become my father.
Christ. I fucking hate that I might not be able to honor my own promise.
I pace behind my desk, thoughts circling like wolves. Matteo might have legal custody of nothing but his own pathetic pride these days, but he’s still unpredictable. A man like that—cornered, humiliated, losing the only thing he ever controlled—becomes feral. And Briar… She’s finally breathing again. Free. Softening. Smiling. I’ve seen it, piece by precious piece.
I won’t let him take that from her.
Not again. Not on my watch.
But I’d watched the way she stiffened when I said I’d handle it. The way she asked if I meant legally. The way she held her breath for the answer. Like she was standing on a ledge waiting for which way the ground would split beneath her. And I couldn’t lie to her. But I couldn’t promise her, either. So I said nothing, and she walked out.
I scrub a hand down my face, then slam both palms flat against the polished surface of my desk, bending over it and lowering my head. I’ve ordered executions with less conflict than this in the past. When I was under my father’s control and it was a do-or-die situation. There’s a cold efficiency in dealing with problems permanently, and I was raised to believe it’s a mercy—quick, clean, final. Pain is temporary. Silence is forever.
But this isn’t business and I hadn’t been that man for years. This is Briar. And she wants a world where problems can be solved without blood. She wants tobelievein a system that protects people like her—the ones who’ve been chewed up, derailed, left with nothing but shattered ribs and courtroom scars.
I want to believe in that world too. For her. I straighten when a knock hits the door—two sharp raps. “Enter.”
Anthony steps inside, closing the door behind him. I can already see the tension in his shoulders. He’s been my right hand, my security advisor through thick and thin, and the only man besides my brothers who could talk me down off a ledge.
“He caught a cab and headed downtown. No doubt to report back to Romero. I’ve had one of our guys follow him. Try and find out where he’s holded up,” he says.
“Good.” I motion to the chair opposite me. He sits, but I stay standing. I need the height, the distance, something to keepme from feeling cornered by the war tearing through my chest. “Romero…” The name tastes like rot on my tongue.
Anthony exhales. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing yet. But we will.” I move to the windows overlooking the city—my city—and stare down at the streets below. So many ways to disappear a problem down there. So many dark corners. So many men who owe me favors. “I want to handle him legally. At least at first.”
“You realize that might not be enough.”
“I’m aware.” The words grind out like broken glass.
“Briar asked for legal measures,” Anthony guesses, not as a question.
I nod once. Sharp. Contained. Controlled on the outside, even as my insides riot.
Anthony leans forward, elbows on his knees. “What do you want me to do?”
“Start with the official route. I want a restraining order filed by tomorrow morning. Use the best judge we have. I don’t care if you need to pay him to perform. I want that order by breakfast.”
