Aurora couldn't sleep.
Again.
Last night still lingered on her lips, like an imprint she couldn't scrub away. The warmth of his hands in the water, the burn in his eyes, and the kiss—
She hadn't meant to let it happen.
But she hadn't stopped it either.
Now, wrapped in the crisp linens of her oversized bed, her thoughts ran wild. There had been something desperate in Lucien's touch. Something raw.
Something that scared her.
And something that stirred her in ways she didn't want to admit.
At 5:47 a.m., she gave up pretending she could rest.
She slipped out of bed, took a quick shower, dressed in a navy silk blouse and fitted slacks, and tied her hair up with a soft ribbon. Businesslike. Controlled. No room for weakness.
No room for last night.
Downstairs, she expected the house to be quiet.
Instead, the scent of coffee lured her to the dining room, where Lucien sat at the head of the table—impeccable as always in a charcoal suit, flipping through a business report as if the night before had never happened.
But then he looked up.
And the air between them shifted.
He said nothing at first. Just watched as she walked in and sat opposite him. The silence wrapped around them like an invisible thread—tight, unspoken.
"You're up early," she said, voice clipped.
"I never slept."
Her fingers tightened around the coffee cup.
"Don't you have meetings?"
"I postponed them."
She blinked. "Why?"
He leaned back, gaze unreadable. "Because I wasn't sure how you'd react to last night."
"I see." She stood, suddenly restless. "You didn't have to postpone anything. It was just a mistake."
He stilled. "Was it?"
Aurora turned to him, arms folded. "What else would you call it?"
His eyes were sharp now. Icy. But burning beneath. "Honesty."
She let out a breathy laugh. "Honesty? That kiss wasn't honest—it was impulsive."
"So were your lips on mine."
She flushed. "Don't twist this."
"I'm not twisting anything, Aurora. I'm just done pretending I feel nothing."
He rose, slowly, stepping around the table until he was inches from her.
"I won't cross another line," he said. "Not unless you invite me to."
"Good," she said, forcing herself not to look away. "Because I don't want you to."
He nodded once.
But she saw it—the flicker of something dark in his gaze.
A man on the edge of patience.
A man waiting for the woman he loved to admit she felt it too.
Later that day, Aurora found herself in the lounge, curled up with a book she hadn't been able to finish in weeks.
Lucien had left for the office after all—an assistant had called, practically begging him to handle a brewing scandal with a rival company.
She should've felt relief.
Instead, her fingers kept skimming to the unread message on her phone:
We need to talk about last night.
But only if you're ready.
—L
She hadn't replied.
Not because she didn't want to.
But because she wanted to too much.
Just as she was drifting into uneasy sleep on the couch, a voice broke the silence.
"You're Aurora, aren't you?"
She jerked upright.
A tall woman stood in the doorway, dressed in a designer dress, crimson lipstick perfect and sharp. She looked familiar—too familiar.
"I'm sorry?" Aurora asked.
The woman smiled, slow and sweet like poison.
"I'm Clarisse. Lucien's former fiancée."
Aurora stood slowly, spine straightening on instinct. The name rang in her ears like a dropped glass.
Clarisse.
The woman Lucien had nearly married. The woman rumored to have broken his heart. The woman Aurora knew existed in name only—until now.
"What are you doing here?" Aurora asked, forcing calm into her voice.
Clarisse's smile widened as she stepped into the room without invitation. "Lucien didn't tell you I was coming?"
Aurora swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "No."
"Well, that's just like him. Always forgets the inconvenient parts." Her tone was flippant, but her eyes were sharp—studying every twitch on Aurora's face.
Clarisse stopped just short of the couch, her heels clicking against the marble floor. She leaned in slightly.
"Must be strange," she said softly, "to wake up one day and find yourself married to a man like Lucien Hayes."
Aurora didn't blink. "We're not strangers."
"But you're not lovers either, are you?"
A flicker of emotion crossed Aurora's face—too fast to name, but Clarisse caught it.
"That's what I thought." Clarisse's voice dripped with condescension. "You're just a placeholder, sweetheart. A bandage he needed to slap on after I left."
Before Aurora could respond, the door behind Clarisse opened.
Lucien.
His presence filled the room instantly—dark suit, colder expression.
And fury.
"Clarisse," he said sharply. "What the hell are you doing here?"
She turned to him, unbothered. "Lucien. Finally."
"I told you we're done. You don't show up here."
Clarisse pouted. "I missed you."
His jaw clenched. "Leave."
"I just wanted to see the new Mrs. Hayes. She's… pretty. Fragile, though." Her gaze flicked back to Aurora with clear intent.
Aurora stood her ground, shoulders squared.
"She's not fragile," Lucien said, stepping protectively between them. "And she's my wife. That means you don't get to talk to her."
Something in his tone made Clarisse's expression slip for the first time.
She recovered quickly. "So possessive. I almost missed it."
"You should leave," Aurora said suddenly, stepping out from behind Lucien. Her voice was calm, but her hands were clenched at her sides. "Whatever history you have with him doesn't concern me. Or you."
Clarisse's lips parted in surprise, then curled into a smirk. "Well, look at that. A backbone."
"I don't need one to deal with you," Aurora replied. "Just a front door."
Lucien's gaze flicked toward Aurora for a split second—something like pride lighting his eyes.
Clarisse looked between them, then exhaled a short laugh. "This won't last, you know. Lucien doesn't do love."
Aurora didn't flinch. "Then we're perfect for each other."
Clarisse finally turned toward the exit, heels clicking like gunshots. "We'll see."
After she left, silence settled like thick fog.
Lucien turned to Aurora, eyes unreadable. "Are you okay?"
She nodded, though her breath came short. "You should've told me she might show up."
"I didn't know. She's… unpredictable."
"Clearly."
He stepped closer. "I didn't—what she said, about you being a placeholder—it's not true."
"I know."
"You do?"
Aurora's voice dropped to a whisper. "Yes. Because you're too controlled to use someone that way."
Lucien's expression shifted. Softened.
"I'm not that controlled anymore," he said. "Not with you."
Aurora turned away from him before his words could sink too deeply into her skin.
Not with you.
She didn't want to hear that. Not from him. Not when her own emotions were a mess of contradictions she couldn't sort through.
"I need some air," she muttered.
Lucien didn't stop her as she walked out to the balcony. The wind was cool against her cheeks, but it did nothing to ease the heat pulsing in her chest. The city spread out before her, glittering and endless—just like the distance between them.
Why did he say things like that? Why did he look at her like she was more than just a contract?
Because she wasn't. She couldn't be.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket.
Olivia.
Aurora picked up. "Hey."
"Are you okay?" her friend asked. "You sound… weird."
Aurora forced a laugh. "Just a long day."
"You mean a long marriage."
"That too."
There was a pause on the other end. "Rory… are you falling for him?"
Aurora's heart skipped. "No."
Another pause. Longer.
"That's not a no."
"I can't fall for him. This isn't real."
"But it feels real, doesn't it?"
Aurora didn't answer.
Later that evening, she wandered into the library—Lucien's favorite room. It was quiet, filled with leather and warm light. She didn't expect him to be there
But he was.
Sitting on the couch, sleeves rolled up, shirt unbuttoned at the collar. He looked… tired. Not in the way that came from work—but in the way of someone carrying too much alone.
He looked up as she entered.
"Couldn't sleep?" he asked.
"No."
"Me neither."
A beat passed.
"I shouldn't have let her talk to you like that," he said, voice low.
"You didn't know she'd show up."
"That's not an excuse."
Aurora walked to the window, arms crossed. "She said you don't believe in love."
He was silent.
"Is that true?" she asked.
Lucien exhaled. "I didn't. Until you."
She turned to him, slowly. "Don't say things like that."
"Why not?"
"Because they sound too much like the truth."
He stood, walked toward her. "What if they are?"
"Then they're dangerous."
"I'm already ruined," he said softly. "You can't hurt what's already broken."
Aurora looked at him—really looked.
The perfect, powerful CEO everyone feared. And underneath?
A man who had never been loved the way he needed to be.
Maybe she wasn't the right person.
But she couldn't walk away.
Lucien stepped closer.
She didn't move.
He raised a hand—slowly, as if afraid she might shatter—and touched her cheek. Just barely.
"You can hate me in the morning," he whispered. "But tonight, just let me feel something."
She didn't answer.
Didn't speak.
Just reached up—and kissed him first.
This time, there was no hesitation.
No restraint.
Just fire.
Just skin.
Just everything they'd been pretending not to feel.
They didn't make it to the bedroom.
By the time the moonlight faded through the curtains, and Aurora lay tangled in his arms, she knew something had changed.
He wasn't just the man she'd married for safety.
He was the man she could destroy herself loving.
And he had already started to fall.