The experience of being punished by Lucius completely shattered both my spirit and my body. Here, my friend, I have a confession to make: it felt perfect. That's a fact. But as the hours ticked by and sleep eluded me, I felt wired, completely exhilarated. I kept playing that scene over in my head—me, back arched, bent over, willing and waiting for his strength whenever he chose to give it to me, whenever he desired, at the mercy of his absolute will…
Right then, in that exact moment, I realized something was wrong. My craving for more Lucius, more domination, was growing to the point where I knew I had to take back the reins. I had to control myself, or I'd lose my very soul to the erotic spiral Lucius was dragging me into.
By 7:00 a.m., I was standing in the grand hall waiting for him, dressed in my white shirt but ready to defy him. He walked in a few seconds later, looking like he'd stepped straight out of a fashion magazine: dark blue suit, irresistible cologne. He greeted me from a distance and barked an order.
"We'll practice the waltz once and the ballad once, and that's it. Make it perfect. Let's go!"
The first dance was flawless. During the ballad, his movements were smooth, but I felt it: he closed the gap between our bodies and pretended to adjust my collar. In reality, he gave it a subtle but deliberate tug forward to get a better look at my breasts. I just kept dancing until the music stopped. And at that exact moment, instead of letting me go, he pulled me even closer to make me feel exactly how much my body was turning him on.
He released me when he noticed my breathing quickening. He checked his watch with a look of distaste, shook his head, and scoffed.
"You just don't get it, do you? You never learn. You need to know your place, girl… turn around!"
But I didn't obey, even though my body was screaming at me to bow before his power, to be receptive to this dominant, gorgeous alpha. No, not this time. I didn't budge, and I spoke with a feigned tone of innocence.
"If my place is down in the dirt, like you're always implying, Mr. Lucius Longfield, then yours is so high up the food chain that your hand and my ass are a thousand miles apart, you know? Too far to ever collide, even if they wanted to. Don't worry—you can try your luck tonight with the President's daughter…"
I walked away, satisfied by his indifferent gaze, but as I left, I saw something in the mirror I had never witnessed since arriving at the Longfield Mansion… Lucius smiled.
Halfway down the hall that leads to the garden windows, he caught up to me.
"Wait, girl, don't go. I promised to save you from Ursula today. Look out the window. See her? She's out there with Manuel, waiting for you to head to the gardens so she can spit her venom."
He was right. Manuel was giving instructions to the groundskeepers, and beside him, Ursula stood with her hands on her hips, staring at the door, waiting for me to step out so she could make my life a living hell.
Lucius took out his phone and sent that wicked woman a message: I'm going to need Carmilla for a while longer.
Through the glass, I saw her fly into a rage the moment she got the notification.
"Why does she hate me so much?" I asked Lucius.
True to form, he ignored me and said:
"Wait for me in my office on the fourth floor. Salazar, my head of security, will stay with you until I get there. I'll let him know you're authorized."
I had never been to the fourth floor, but honestly, I'd do anything to avoid that woman, so I accepted the sanctuary. Gradually, the mansion began to fill with armed guards patrolling every corner of the grand hall and the perimeter. On the stairs, I crossed paths with three tall, blonde employees in their forties. They looked like clones, identical in their black uniforms. I tried to greet them, but they looked terrified and hurried past to avoid me—exactly what had happened with the cleaning girls. I'm convinced Ursula is behind all of this, and now I'm just thinking: Why the hell did I summon her by saying her name?
Because there she was.
With fake sweetness, she told me:
"The fourth floor is for important staff and the masters of the house. Your place is with those below."
I told her I was following Lucius's orders, but she cut me off.
"Look, Carmilla, I don't know what Mr. Lucius is planning, but don't fail me. If I lose control of this mansion, you'll lose control of your house… or what's left of it."
When she saw I didn't understand what she meant, she clarified:
"My sister has the keys to your place, remember? So imagine this: if you turn the Longfield brothers against me, when you leave this place, you'll find nothing but smoking ash where your home used to be. I'll have it burned down. I am this mansion… respect the contract and stay away from them!"
I wanted to shove her down the stairs for threatening Mary Garden, but I could only think of one thing. You felt it too, didn't you, my friend? She implied I have some kind of influence over the brothers. What the hell?
Lucius's office is majestic, filled with marble statues, and Salazar, his security chief, is kind as he keeps me company. On a desk, there are folders labeled Ritual Instructions.
I couldn't help but ask:
"What is the ritual? Please tell me I'm not in a mansion full of cannibals—that's all I ask."
Salazar laughed.
"'Ritual' is just the code word for when Mr. Longfield leaves his room, gives a few important instructions to his inner circle, and goes back to his quarters. That's it. He usually does it once every two months; everything else is handled remotely."
"So it's true, then," I said. "The reporters suspect he has agoraphobia. I don't know anything about the Longfields beyond what I've read. All the thousands of companies… but what exactly do they do?"
Salazar didn't answer because Lucius was already at the door, listening. He entered the office, dismissed the guard, and looked at me.
"Girl, I'm tired of your questions. You get three. Ask whatever you want to know, I'll answer—and in exchange, you keep your mouth shut for a week."
"Deal," I said excitedly. "What exactly does your father do?"
Lucius answered automatically:
"He advises leaders on economic and security matters. That means he decides who wins and who loses in the business world."
"And what are all of you doing here?" I asked.
He said, nearly yawning:
"We're all in the same business: making money."
Then I blindsided him with my third question.
"Have you ever been in love?"
And there it was… for a fraction of a second, his eyes seemed to glisten with tears, but he recovered and snapped:
"Never. Stop talking nonsense, girl."
I know he's lying. I like to think that someone once reached his heart—that he pretends to be made of steel, but behind that facade hides a soul wounded by love.
Two helicopters landed, and the Secret Service deployed across the grounds, awaiting the President's daughter.
Lucius looked out the window, checked the time, and pointed to a door behind the desk.
"Stay here. I'm going to take a shower and I'll be back. By the way, the ritual is tomorrow, and I've asked for you to be added to the list. You'll get to see my father. Don't you dare let that personality of yours show around him, or you'll lose a lot more than this contract. Understand this: if my father sees you and accepts you, Ursula will be forced to leave you alone and find someone else to hunt."
Lucius went through that door but left it ajar behind him. And there I was, alone in his office. What would you do in my place? Yeah, exactly. I couldn't help myself—I peeked in to see what was behind that door…
It was a wide hallway with a bed and armchairs, and beyond that, a mini-spa. It had a sauna, a massage table, a jacuzzi, and showers. And right there, completely naked, was Lucius, his eyes closed as he let the water fall over his lean, muscular, and very, very well-endowed body. I already told you I've never been kissed, never had a boyfriend, but a couple who were friends of Carol's stayed at the house years ago, and I accidentally walked in on them having sex. I saw more than I wanted to… so, technically, I can compare—and Lucius is much bigger.
Of course, I wanted to step under the water with him, but I turned to leave, and then I heard his voice…
"Don't go…" he said.
I froze, paralyzed with shame.
He asked:
"Did you want to see me? Well, turn around and look."
I obeyed. He was drying himself off, wrapping a towel around his waist, but he did it slowly, as if he wanted me to see everything. He stepped toward me, grabbed my waist firmly with one hand, and with the other, stroked my face, bringing his lips close to mine. My mouth parted, waiting for his kiss…
And just as I was thinking, To hell with it! I'll do whatever he says, I'll be his damn slave if he asks, we heard the office door swing open, followed by Killian's unmistakable voice:
"Lucius, you in here?"