The silence inside the car was heavy—stifling.
The doors shut them off from the world outside, from the flashes of cameras and the whispers, but inside… a storm was brewing.
Lucian sat rigid beside her, his jaw clenched, fists on his lap.
Caliste stared out the window, arms crossed, refusing to meet his eyes.
The tension was unbearable.
"You didn't have to do that," she finally muttered, her voice tight, sharp.
Lucian didn't look at her. "You paraded around with him like it meant nothing."
"And you brought your secretary like a trophy," she snapped. "Why do you care who I bring, Lucian?"
His voice dropped, low and deadly. "Because you're my wife."
Caliste scoffed. "Only when it suits your ego."
Lucian turned his head slowly toward her, eyes burning. "I kissed you because I wanted to. I wanted them to see who you belong to."
She looked at him then—really looked—and her heart stung.
"Is that all I am to you? Some possession you need to show off to the world when someone else comes too close?"
He didn't respond.
She turned away again, blinking fast, furious tears threatening. "You're unbelievable."
The rest of the ride was silent. And cold.
----
The moment they stepped inside Lucian's penthouse, Caliste tore her arm from his grasp.
"Don't ever drag me like that again," she hissed, walking straight into the living room, heels echoing on the marble floor.
Lucian followed, still furious. "Then don't give me a reason to."
She spun to face him. "A reason? What—being civil to a man who actually listens to me? Who sees me as more than a deal you signed on paper?!"
Lucian threw his jacket onto the couch. "He's in love with you."
"So what if he is?" she snapped. "At least he's honest. You… You kiss me in front of everyone like you mean it—then act like nothing happened!"
Lucian's jaw ticked. "I told you before, Caliste. This marriage is complicated."
"No," she said, voice rising. "You made it complicated. I've tried. I've tried to be patient, to be respectful. But I'm tired, Lucian. I'm tired of pretending we're strangers when something real is trying to happen between us."
He stared at her, and for a moment, something vulnerable flickered in his eyes.
But then he shook his head. "Feelings only ruin things."
"You're impossible!" Caliste shouted, her voice echoing through the marble walls of the penthouse.
Lucian's eyes flared with frustration. "And you're driving me insane! We keep dancing around this—"
"Because this marriage isn't real, Lucian!" she shot back, chest heaving. "It never was!"
He stepped forward, gaze locked onto hers like a storm brewing in the dark. "Then let's make it real."
Her breath caught.
"What?" she whispered, heart hammering.
Lucian didn't answer with words. Instead, he crossed the distance between them, grabbing her wrist and pulling her flush against him.
"Let's do what married couples do," he murmured, voice low, hungry.
Before she could protest, his lips captured hers in a searing kiss—hot, urgent, full of everything they'd kept bottled up for far too long.
Caliste gasped against his mouth, her hands bracing against his chest. "Lucian—wait—"
But his grip tightened gently around her waist, grounding her, igniting something wild inside her. She could feel his heartbeat thundering through his shirt—fast, matching hers.
She wanted to push him away.
She didn't.
Instead, her fingers hesitantly slipped beneath his collar, trembling as they began to unfasten his shirt, one button at a time.
Lucian stilled—his breath ragged—as her palm brushed his bare skin.
"You have no idea what you're doing to me," he growled softly.
Caliste looked up at him, her lips parted, her cheeks flushed.
"I'm still a virgin…" she whispered, eyes wide with both fear and trust.
Lucian froze.
Then something shifted in his gaze—tenderness softening the edges of his desire. He cupped her cheek with surprising gentleness.
"I'll be gentle," he whispered, brushing his lips against her temple. "I promise."
The next moments blurred in a haze of tangled limbs, soft moans, and whispered names. Clothes were shed, barriers shattered. Their bodies met with growing intensity, each touch stoking the fire between them higher.
The moonlight cast silver shadows across the sheets as their breaths filled the room.
Lucian held her as if she'd break—and Caliste clung to him like he was the only truth in a world that never made sense.
And when they finally surrendered to the storm they had fought for so long, there were no more words—only gasps, kisses, and the sound of two hearts finally colliding.
As dawn peeked through the curtains, their bodies lay tangled in satin sheets, breathless and exhausted, with nothing but the sound of silence and the warmth of something unspoken lingering between them.
Something had changed.
Forever.
The morning sun spilled gently across the penthouse bedroom, illuminating the tangled sheets and clothes scattered across the floor like forgotten secrets.
Caliste stirred first, eyes fluttering open to find the unfamiliar warmth of Lucian's arm draped across her waist. His face, relaxed in sleep, looked softer than she'd ever seen—no cold glances, no sharp words. Just him.
For a moment, she let herself stay still.
Safe. Wrapped in the warmth of something dangerously close to love.
But as reality returned, so did the sharp sting of his past words:
> "This marriage is only political."
Her chest tightened.
Carefully, she slipped out of bed, gathering the silk robe from the floor and wrapping it tightly around her trembling frame. She stood by the window, staring out at the skyline, arms crossed, heart thudding like a ticking clock.
Behind her, Lucian stirred.
"You're up early," his voice rasped, still heavy with sleep.
She didn't turn. "Couldn't sleep."
Silence stretched between them.
Lucian sat up, running a hand through his tousled hair. "About last night—"
"Don't," she cut in, her voice firm but not angry. Just... sad. "Don't say it was a mistake."
He paused. "I wasn't going to."
She turned then, eyes meeting his. "Then what were you going to say?"
Lucian opened his mouth... but the words died in his throat.
He didn't know. He couldn't say what this meant. All he knew was that when he kissed her, touched her, held her—he didn't want to let go.
But he was still Lucian Velmore. And feelings... weren't part of the deal.
"I have a meeting in Singapore. I'll be gone for a few days," he said instead.
Caliste nodded. "Of course. Business as usual."
Her cold response pierced him more than he expected.
He wanted to say something else. Anything. But all he did was dress in silence, sparing her one last glance before walking out the door.
As the elevator doors closed, the warmth they'd shared last night turned into silence.