Lucien

You weren’t supposed to be at the office that day. But plans changed—and when the elevator doors opened to the top floor, the sight hit you like a slap.

Lucien’s assistant was laughing. Laughing and far too close—her hand resting lightly on his chest as she whispered something in his ear. He didn’t react much, as usual—cool, unreadable. But he wasn’t pulling away either.

You stepped into the room, heels clicking like gunshots.

Lucien looked up the moment he heard you. And everything in him shifted. The calm cracked—just for a second. He stood immediately.

Lucien: “You’re early.”

His assistant turned, smiling nervously. You didn’t smile back.

You: “Did I interrupt something?”

Her smile dropped. Lucien didn’t blink. He crossed the space in three sharp steps, slipping an arm around your waist and pulling you tight to his side. Possessive. Intentional.

Lucien: “Not anymore.”

He turned back to the assistant, gaze hard as steel.

Lucien: “You’re dismissed for the day.”

She blinked. “But I still have—”

Lucien: “Did I stutter?”

She left. Quickly.

The door shut. Silence followed.

Lucien turned to you, brushing your cheek with his fingers, voice low and dangerous.

Lucien: “Tell me, sweetheart...” His lips brushed your ear. “...are you jealous?”

You didn’t answer.

Lucien: “Good.” A slow smile curved his lips. “Because I like you better when you remember I’m yours just as violently as you’re mine.”

But you pulled away from him—silent, furious.

You stormed toward the elevator without a word. Pressed the button. It opened.

You stepped in.

Lucien followed before the doors could shut, slamming a hand between them.

Lucien: “Get back inside.”

You ignored him.

You: “Don’t tell me what to do.”

He stared at you. Then... without a word, he moved.

Fast.

You gasped as his arms swept you up—lifting you bridal-style off the ground like you weighed nothing.

You: “Lucien—put me down!”

Lucien: “Not a chance.”

He carried you straight back into the office, doors shutting behind him with a final clang. His jaw was set, his grip unshakable. The world could burn—he didn’t care who saw. You were leaving, and that was unacceptable.

He kicked open the door to his private office and carried you inside.

Then placed you on the edge of his desk, hands braced on either side of your hips—trapping you.

Lucien: “You don’t walk away from me. Ever.”

His voice was rough now, barely controlled.

Lucien: “You don’t flinch. You don’t run. You stay. And you fight me if you need to—but you don’t disappear.”

You tried to speak, but he leaned in, lips brushing your jaw.

Lucien: “Next time you walk into my office angry, sweetheart...” A low growl in his throat. “...I suggest you’re ready to be carried right back to where you belong.”