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I always admired Lucian for his ferocious determination—but I won’t be forced into this. A part of me might resent Tatum for leaving me, but his disappearance gave me more than one lesson. He didn’t only leave because Alex excommunicated him for our father’s crimes. He left for true love. Clara never demanded it of him. He gave it freely. Even without the punishment, he intended to leave everything—his family, his clan, his entire world—for her.
Lucian would never make such a sacrifice for me. I glance down at the part in his open shirt, the whipping scars visible like dark shadows on his olive skin. His suffering has made him strong and driven, but also borderline obsessed about restoring his family’s name. When I say his family name, I meanhisname.Hisreputation. His ambition supersedes everything. Just because it was bred in pain doesn’t make it any less selfish, any less ruthless.
He expects me to renounce my plans for him, but he would never reciprocate. He didn’t stand up for me in the cafeteria. He might have stuck up for me yesterday, but he didn’t lose anything by it. He’d already made up his mind about Roxie. He has done nothing to earn my trust.
Trying to make him understand one last time, I say, “We have nothing to build a marriage on. There’s no trust. No love. No sacrifice. What do you have to offer me to stay for you?”
I pause before answering the question myself. “Nothing, Lucian. Nothing.”
CHAPTER18
STAR
In the end, he lets me go.
I’m sure it’s a calculated move on his part. He’s a tactician, if nothing else, and this is a retreat-to-fight-another-day situation if I ever saw one.
He carefully arranges my clothes until I’m decent. He picks up the ruffled fabric he ripped off my dress earlier and tucks it into his pocket, his vow about the Popescu eagle tat on my breast reverberating in my mind.
Before I have a chance to escape, he takes firm hold of my elbow and doesn’t leave my side until we’re back at the reception.
From the corner of my eye, I see him murmuring low into Anton’s ear as I approach Crina and Gabby and tell them that Lucian is escorting me home. Their eyes betray their concern for me, but now is not the time to discuss the marriage announcement.
“It’s going to be okay,” I whisper to Crina as Lucian returns to my side and wraps a proprietary arm around my shoulder, making my teeth grind and my stomach flip at the same time.
As he leads me away, I glance over my shoulder and Crina makes a gesture of holding a phone to her ear, indicating she will call later.
In the museum parking lot, he opens the passenger door to his sleek, black Maserati coupe. I drop into the cool leather seat. My hips instantly shoot up—my bottom’s sizzling. Heat blazes across my cheeks. Even my ears go red at the memory of how he took a belt to my ass.
Sweet Jesus, what was I thinking?
Beneath his smirking face, I slowly lower my butt onto the smooth leather and yank at the seatbelt. He taps my hand away, takes hold of the rayon belt, and smoothly buckles me in.
Warmth spreads through my chest at his gesture, but that only adds to the churn of chaotic feelings inside me.
“I could have done that,” I rebuff him. Why is he so calm when I’m still thrown after everything that happened in the temple. The punishment, the hot sex, the marriagewhat’s-it-called… I can’t exactly call it a proposal. A marriage demand, maybe?
I wipe my brow. Good grief, that’s not even a thing.
He doesn’t react to my snub. He simply closes the car door and goes around to the driver’s seat.
We speed up the ramp of the museum’s underground parking, passing the illuminated fountains on the plaza in front of The Met before turning onto Fifth Avenue. It’s well past ten o’clock, but the city streets are hopping.
As we wait at a red light, I peek at his profile, outlined by the light cascading down from the streetlamps. His sensual bottom lip protrudes, much fuller than his top, and I lick my own lips remembering his kisses. His kisses on my lips, on my breasts, on my pussy. The last memory has me squeezing my legs together.
Noticing the movement, Lucian shifts slightly beside me. His gaze moves to my pressed thighs, his eyes a molten sheen like two silver coins. I recognize that look. He’s aroused, and dammit, so am I, even after his attempt to ruin my life. God, it just makes me want to smack him.
I snap my head in the other direction and concentrate on the people walking along Central Park. The leaves of the great elm trees lining the park create a canopy of bright spring green.
He smoothly drives in and out of traffic, the only sound penetrating the tense silence between us is a passing car blasting hip-hop. We stop at another light on 59thStreet, in front of The Strand Bookstore kiosk, with its booths and rows of long tables piled high with used books and other quirky mementos.
His composure puts my teeth on edge, and I ache to rattle him. I only pull myself off the ledge because I still need his cooperation. He has got to abandon this ridiculous marriage business and allow me to escape.
Once I’m gone, I can take care of myself. I have money from the trust fund Tatum left me and Mama, which I’ve controlled since I turned eighteen years old. I haven’t told Tatum about my plans. He was the Lupuconsilierfor ten years so I can’t imagine he’d act any differently than Lucian. He’d only try to persuade me to stay. For my own safety, of course. As the saying goes, it’s better to ask for forgiveness than permission.
We speed over the East River into Queens. The crisscross of steel bars from the Queensboro Bridge slashes light and dark over Lucian’s features, making him look more devil than human.
Fitting, to be sure.
