“That bad?” I asked.
“Worse.” She took another sip anyway. “But it burns, and right now, that’s my only requirement.”
She offered me the bottle, but I politely declined. Instead, I leaned forward and placed my elbows on the bar. “You can’t stay here tonight, Isadora.”
She didn’t immediately answer. Just stared at the bottle in her hand. After a few moments, she finally said, “I’ve already lost everything, Lucien. I won’t lose my bar too. This place is mine, and I’ll fight for it.”
Her voice cracked, just a little, at the end. This was important to her. I could understand that. No one could pry me from The Crimson Veil if I didn’t permit it. Seemed she’d developed a similar relationship to this unnamed bar of hers.
So, I nodded. “Then I’ll station someone outside.”
Her gaze snapped to mine.
“Someone discreet,” I added. “They’ll keep watch, just in case.”
Another pause.
“Fine,” she muttered. “But if they spook Bernard, you’re dealing with the consequences.”
“Of course,” I said, utterly serious. “I wouldn’t dream of offending your chandelier.”
Her lips twitched again. A real smile this time, though exhausted.
I stood slowly, smoothing the front of my suit jacket. “Try to get some sleep. I’ll handle the rest.”
She didn’t thank me. Of course she didn’t. That would’ve been too easy.
But as I turned to leave, her soft voice stopped me.
“Lucien.” She didn’t rise from her stool. Just looked at me, her pitiful bottle in hand. “I still don’t know what to make of you.”
That made two of us.
I stared at her for a heartbeat. Then I decided—fuck it.
In one step, I stood in front of her.
She blinked, startled but not frightened. I reached down and took the bottle from her hand. My fingers brushed hers as I set her drink down on the bar.
Her gaze followed my movements. But she didn’t pull away. Nor did she tell me to take a hike.
I lifted my hand and tilted her chin up. Her eyes, stormy and uncertain, searched mine.
A smarter man might have walked away—Isadora came with a lot of baggage. A better man would have left her alone—she needed time to rebound from her failed mating bond. But right now, at this moment, I was neither smart nor better. Because, gods help me, I wanted her. There was something about her that captivated me, despite my mother’s warnings, despite the developing situation, despite the fact that we were soon to be rival business owners. I didn’t want to play the role of the monster. I wanted to be the savior—her savior. I wanted to be the one she leaned on and confided in. And if ever she gifted me with her trust, I would never betray it. Not like he had.
My parents would call me weak and sentimental. Juliette had already voiced her concerns. Loudly. But I didn’t care. I wanted Isadora.
So, I kissed her.
And my whole fucking world imploded.
Her lips were even softer than I expected, and warmer. They molded perfectly against mine. Usually, this was where I would take control—claim her mouth, dominate the pace, remind us of who was stronger. But Isadora unraveled something inside me, something I hadn’t realized needed unraveling.
I wanted to take things slow with her. Show her that I could give as much as I could take. I wanted to be that rock for her.
When my other arm slipped around her waist, her breath caught, and her lips parted against mine. She slipped her hand inside my suit jacket, her fingers skimming over my dress shirt, her palm pressing lightly against my side. A simple touch—through a layer of fabric—and still, it felt like she branded me.
I instinctively deepened the kiss, chasing the feeling. I needed more. Needed her. I cupped the back of her neck, threading my fingers through her hair and anchoring her to me. Her hand gripped my shirt and pulled me closer. And, oh, did I go willingly—too willingly. She fit perfectly against me, like she belonged here.
