Chapter 56 –L U C I A N
The problem with silence is that you hear things you don't want to.
The faint scrape of her slippers on polished wood. The quiet hesitation at my doorway. The way her breath hitched like she was stepping into dangerous ground.
I had lived most of my life inside walls built to keep people out. And yet, this morning, she walked in.
Not because she wanted to. I knew better than to believe that. She walked in because the girls' eyes were sharp, because they were watching, waiting for her to prove she wouldn't run. That knowledge stung more than it should.
Still, when she stood there with her chin lifted in stubborn defiance, I couldn't stop myself from teasing.
"You don't have to stand like I'm about to swallow you. Relax. I'm not hungry."
Her glare could've melted steel.
"Ridiculous," she muttered.
But she stayed. She stayed in my room.
The deliveries arrived not long after. Racks of clothes, boxes stacked high, packages sealed in ribbon and embossed logos. Everything a woman like her would need not because she asked, but because I had ordered them.
The look on her face was priceless.
"What… is all this?"
"Your things."
Her voice rose. "These are not my things."
"They are now."
Her lips parted, outrage burning. "I was going to the boutique tomorrow. From there I could've gone home and"
"Home?" My voice was sharper than intended, cutting across her protest like a blade. "You mean that empty apartment you kept as a shadow life? That's not home anymore, Rina. Not for you. Not for them. They belong here. With me. With us."
Her eyes flashed, but she didn't argue. She knew I was right, and the knowledge infuriated her.
"You think you can buy comfort," she said finally, voice low.
"I think I can remove discomfort," I corrected. "And if you have everything you need here, you'll stop thinking about running."
Silas chose that moment to make himself useful or useless, depending on how you looked at it.
"Sir," he said with mock formality, "forgive me, but if Madam doesn't want these clothes, I'd be delighted to accept donations. I've always wanted to try red bottom heels."
Rina actually choked on a laugh.
"You're impossible."
"Thank you. I work very hard at it," Silas replied, bowing.
I shot him a look. "Do you ever go home?"
He pressed a hand to his chest. "Home? This estate is my home. My sacred duty. My oxygen. Without it, I'd wither."
"Without me to torment, you mean," I muttered.
He grinned. "Exactly."
Rina covered her mouth, laughter spilling despite herself. And that sound God, that sound. I hadn't heard it under this roof before. I wanted it again.
When Silas finally left,after making a grand show of inspecting the heels and sighing dramatically about them not being his size, Rina walked to the racks. Slowly, as though the dresses might bite her.
She touched the fabric, brows furrowing. Silk. Cashmere. Lace.
"This is too much," she whispered.
"You deserve too much," I said before I could stop myself.
Her head snapped up, eyes locking onto mine. Something unspoken charged the air between us, so thick I could feel it in my veins.
She dropped her gaze first, fingers curling into the fabric of a pale blue dress. "I don't even know where to put all this."
"Then I'll have another wardrobe installed."
"That's not the point." She shook her head, frustration written all over her face. "Lucian, I don't want to lose myself in all of this. I already feel… disoriented."
Her honesty disarmed me.
"You won't lose yourself," I said quietly. "Not while I'm watching."
Her lips parted, but no words came. Instead, she turned back to the clothes, muttering under her breath about trying some things on later, about needing space. But she didn't reject them outright. She didn't push them away. She stayed.
That was enough for me.
Later, when the girls came barreling in and squealed at the sight of the boxes, I stood back and watched. Isla tugged at a ribbon, lila twirled in front of a mirror, Rina tried to scold them for tearing into the packages like puppies but ended up laughing as they paraded around in scarves three sizes too long.
I watched her then. Really watched her.
The way her eyes softened when they laughed. The way her hand lingered on their hair. The way she bent down to tie ribbons around their waists. She didn't look like a woman overwhelmed by my world. She looked like she belonged in it.
And for the first time in years, my estate didn't feel like a fortress. It felt alive.
That night, when the twins were finally coaxed into bed, I lingered outside Rina's room. I could hear her moving inside, the faint sound of drawers opening, clothes rustling. She was organizing her things. My things. Our things.
It struck me then this wasn't supposed to be permanent. We told ourselves this arrangement was for the girls. A performance. A temporary act.
But the longer she stayed, the more I wondered if I was the one pretending.
Because when she laughed earlier, when she stood in my room despite her nerves, when she touched those clothes with reluctant hands I wanted it all to mean more.
And God help me, it already did.