Something that made my heart race every time I thought of him standing in that office, watching me with those dark, calculating eyes.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
“I hate you,” I whispered into the empty room, but the words sounded weak.
Because beneath the anger, beneath the grief and confusion, another truth pulsed quietly inside me.
One I wasn’t ready to face.
CHAPTER 30
Lucien
She had retreated. Good. She needed space, she needed to feel the fire inside her, but I could not stop thinking about her. Every corner of the estate seemed empty without her presence. The offices, the halls, the terrace, they all ached with her absence. I walked through them slowly, imagining her movements, her expressions, the way her hair fell across her shoulders, the tilt of her jaw, the fire in her eyes.
I could feel the city shifting beneath us. Belladonna’s operatives testing boundaries, rivals probing weaknesses, all beneath the calm surface I presented, however, none of it mattered, seeing as none of it compared to her.
I closed my eyes, imagining her rage, her grief, the raw edge of her shouting in my office. I had kissed her, tasted her fire, but she resisted, although, she had returned my kiss. That contradiction, that blend of fury and desire, consumed me.
Ronan moved silently beside me, ever vigilant, ever aware. “She is fragile,” he said quietly.
“Fragile?” I asked, a dark smile touching my lips. “She is fire.”
Ronan did not respond immediately.
He rarely did.
The man had spent years at my side, long enough to understand when silence served better than words.
We stood together on the terrace overlooking the dark city below. Marseille stretched endlessly into the distance, its lights flickering like stars against the night.
This city belonged to me.
Every street.
Every port.
Every hidden deal and whispered alliance, and yet, my thoughts remained fixed on one woman pacing somewhere inside this estate.
Sera Moretti.
Even her name carried weight.
Her father had ruled half the underworld before his death. His network had been vast, powerful, and carefully built over decades.
Now it belonged to me and she hated me for it.
I rested my hands against the cold stone railing, letting the night air settle around us.
“She will not forgive you,” Ronan said eventually.
His voice carried no judgment, only quiet observation.
“I do not require forgiveness.”
“That may be true,” he replied calmly. “But you want something else.”
I glanced at him.
