I could sense the music was coming to an end. Riding the final swell, I guided her toward the edge of the floor, our bodies moving in lightning fast movements. Then I spun her around my body and bent her until she was laid back across my knee once more. I dragged my hand across her throat, reminding her who she belonged to, claiming her in front of every man who had had his hands on her tonight. For a moment, her dark eyes cut through the sound and motion, cut right to me, and then I pulled her back into my arms just as the music ended.
There was a short silence and then scattered applause. No one knew how to react, but I didn’t give a shit. I had made my point. Beside me, Olivia was flushed with embarrassment, her body now small and pressed against my side.
Duran ducked out of the crowd. “Jesus Christ, I think I need a cigarette after watching that,” he said. “What the hell, Lucien?”
“Look at Romano,” I said under my breath.
We both looked over at our capo, standing by the bar. His fingers were tight around his glass and his eyes were narrowed. There was a tightness in his body that hadn’t been there before and when I met his gaze, it was glacially cold. He was livid, angry that despite his best efforts to undermine me, he was inferior. Olivia was mine.
Duran frowned. “So was that little performance about your wife or about your boss?”
Olivia stared up at him, her throat bobbing as she swallowed.
“I needed to send a message,” I said shortly.
“Next time just piss on her. It’d be a lot easier,” Duran said, turning away and taking Iris’s hand to lead her back into the crowd.
Shaking off my annoyance at my brother’s tone, I turned back to my wife, but she was gone. I scanned the room and caught a flash of red disappear around the corner as she fled into the hall. What the hell was wrong with her? She knew how I felt, knew that I hated the thought of anyone putting their hands on her body. If I’d had the freedom to do it, I would have snapped Romano’s neck the moment he laid eyes on her.
I stepped into the hall just in time to see the door at the far end swing shut. Shoes clipping against the floor, I pursued her soft footfalls through the kitchen and into the back of the house. She was probably headed to the servant’s staircase and from there, our bedroom, where she would inevitably cry or rage at me.
The back hallway was empty and cold from being shut off from the rest of the house. At the far end, Olivia was struggling with the back door, but it was locked. We always kept it locked in the winter. As I drew near, she gave a frustrated cry and kicked the door hard with her heeled foot.
“Where the fuck are you going, Olivia?” I snapped.
“Anywhere that isn’t with you,” she said, spinning around and pushing her back against the door.
“Why?”
“Because I thought that dance was for me, but it turns out you’re just performing for Romano, the man who assaulted me. Why does everything have to be for fucking Romano?” she seethed.
“Because it does, because he put his hands all over you and I can’t do a goddamn thing about it,” I snapped, struggling to keep my face blank.
“Maybe I was angry enough to just give up and let him!”
“Why the fuck would you do that?”
“Because you lied when I asked you about your father,” she cried. “You force me to go along with all of your plans, you lie to me, you shut me out. I’m your wife, Lucien, and I deserve to know what happened to your father.”
My blood pumped cold and slow in my ears. I advanced on her slowly and she shrank back, her perfect, red mouth shaking with fear. Dear God, I wanted to fuck her even now. I needed to press her up against the door, rip away the fabric between us, and thrust into her hot, little cunt until she screamed. Until every man in this house heard what I did to her and knew who she belonged to.
“Do you really want to know?” I asked quietly. Her face was inches from mine. I felt the cold air seeping through the door against our bodies. “I turned off all the monitors, I drugged my mother and my brother, and then I went to my father’s room. He was sleeping, but when I wrapped a razor-sharp wire around his throat, he woke. His eyes were open, looking up at me. I killed him and every day since I have lived without an ounce of regret for putting that motherfucker six feet underground.”
Chapter Sixteen
Olivia
My heart beat impossibly fast and my mouth was so dry it felt like cotton. Lucien hovered close, his beautiful, cold face just inches away. An achingly long moment passed and then he leaned forward and his mouth brushed over my throat, his hot tongue flicking against the sensitive spot where my neck met my shoulder.
“Lucien,” I breathed, my hands struggling up.
“What, baby, you want to run from me now?” he murmured. “Because I had the balls to do what needed to be done? I’ll bet you won’t complain after I slit Romano’s throat and make you a queen. You want power as much as I do and you know it.”
He was right. As much as it had angered me, my pussy had throbbed with need with every touch of his hand. I bit hard on my lip, the pain a welcome distraction, and raised my eyes to his endlessly cold gaze. Our gazes locked for a long moment and then he pushed off, striding to the center of the hall, his hands behind his back. He cut an austere figure, surrounded by opulence, stained with desire and sin.
He was consuming me, eating me alive, drawing me into a world where there was nothing but power and the constant need to spill blood.
Who had I become?