Caliste stirred beneath the silky sheets, her eyelashes fluttering open. For a moment, she forgot where she was—until her eyes met his.
Lucian.
He was already dressed in a crisp black shirt and tailored pants, sitting on the couch like a shadow—silent, brooding, dangerous. His elbows rested on his knees, hands clasped, those piercing eyes never leaving her face.
She quickly sat up, the sheet clutched to her chest. Her heart pounded.
"Lucian…"
His expression didn't change.
"I—I just want you to know… You were my first client," she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. "I never… I didn't sleep with anyone. You were the first and… the only."
Lucian scoffed lightly and looked away. "Don't insult me with explanations I didn't ask for."
Her chest tightened.
"You think I care how many men came before me?" he muttered, standing to his full height. "You should've never been here in the first place."
Then his voice dropped into a command. "Get dressed."
Caliste obeyed, silently slipping into the robe on the edge of the bed, her fingers shaking.
Lucian pulled out his phone and dialed. "Theo. Bring Tanya. Now."
Not long after, there was a knock at the door. It opened with a dramatic flourish as Theo, Greg, and Tristan stumbled in, all grinning.
"Well, well," Theo teased. "Lucian Velmore finally had some action—should we call the press?"
"Who's the lucky—" Greg stopped mid-sentence, his gaze locking onto the woman sitting at the edge of the bed.
"Caliste…?" Tristan murmured.
The teasing died instantly. All three men stood frozen, eyes darting between Lucian and Caliste in stunned disbelief.
"What the—" Theo whispered. "That's… your ex-wife?"
The tension in the room was palpable.
Before any of them could speak again, Tanya, the elegant manager in red heels, arrived behind them. Her smile faltered when she saw Lucian's stormy expression.
"Mr. Velmore," she greeted nervously.
He turned slowly. "Explain."
Tanya swallowed. "Caliste—Cassy—was sold to us by Desmund Winslow. We were told she had no legal rights left… and her background checked out. She's new here. You were her first."
Lucian's jaw clenched.
"Do you sell people now, Tanya?" he asked icily. "Or just women you think won't be missed?"
She panicked. "It wasn't like that—Mr. Velmore, I swear—"
"I'm buying her. Name your price."
"I—Yes! Of course. I'll have the papers drawn right away."
Lucian turned to Caliste, grabbed her wrist, and pulled her to her feet.
"We're done here."
Before she could react, he was already leading her out of the room, leaving behind stunned silence.
Theo blinked. "Did… that just happen?"
Greg looked around. "He just bought his ex-wife."
Tristan shook his head, a slow smile forming. "Lucian Velmore never moved on… he was just waiting to find her again."
Theo chuckled. "Guess the only woman who can tame the devil… was his wife all along."
The black car glided like a phantom, its tinted windows hiding the storm brewing inside.
Caliste sat stiffly in the passenger seat, the seatbelt across her trembling chest. Her hands fidgeted on her lap, her robe loosely tied, revealing the angry red marks on her skin—marks left by him.
Lucian.
The man behind the wheel gripped it with one hand, the other arm draped casually over the center console. But there was nothing casual about the fire burning in his dark eyes, nor the way his jaw clenched every few seconds.
Caliste exhaled sharply and unbuckled her seatbelt. "Stop the car. Let me out."
Lucian didn't even flinch. "Sit down."
"I'm serious, Lucian! You can't just drag me away like this—"
Before she could open the door, his hand shot out like lightning, gripping her wrist in a firm, unforgiving hold.
Her breath hitched.
"I said," he growled, "sit. Down."
She froze, his strength anchoring her in place. Her heart thundered against her ribs.
"I am not going back to that place," she whispered. "I'm not property—"
Lucian pulled the car over to the side of the road, slamming the gear into park. The silence inside the car was deafening.
He turned to her fully, eyes burning.
"You want to go back there?" His voice was low and dangerous. "To Silken Rose? Be passed around to desperate rich men? Sold again, used again?"
Caliste turned her head away.
Lucian leaned in, his breath brushing against her cheek. "Or will you serve only me?"
She blinked rapidly, her chest rising and falling.
"I am not something to be used when nature calls," she snapped. "I'm not a thing, Lucian!"
He smirked cruelly. "You are now. You were bought. Or did you forget?"
He leaned back, voice hardening. "So choose, Caliste."
She turned slowly to face him, meeting the cold intensity in his eyes.
"Be mine," he said. "Or go back to them. Be anyone's."
The air inside the car grew thick with tension. Her lips parted, but no sound came out. Her wrist still throbbed under his grip, but she no longer tried to pull away.
"Choose now," Lucian whispered.
Caliste looked down, her long lashes shadowing her expression. Slowly, the fight left her body. Her shoulders slumped, and her trembling stilled.
She didn't speak.
She didn't nod.
But the silence was answer enough.
Lucian released her wrist and started the car again, his lips curled in satisfaction.
"You made the right choice," he said.
Caliste leaned against the cold window, staring out, wondering if this was fate's cruel joke—or just the price of returning home.
The ride to Lucian's penthouse was silent, thick with unsaid words and emotions that clawed at the space between them.
Caliste sat stiffly in the leather passenger seat, her gaze fixed outside the tinted window, though her eyes didn't see the city lights blurring past. Lucian's presence was overwhelming, his grip earlier still lingering on her wrist like a brand she couldn't erase.
When they arrived, Lucian didn't wait for a doorman or any formalities. He stepped out and rounded to her side, opening the door with swift finality.
"Let's go," he said, voice tight.
She hesitated for a second, but the fierce glint in his eyes left no room for resistance. Wordlessly, she followed.
The elevator ride was unbearable. The moment the doors opened to the private floor of his penthouse, Lucian grabbed her hand—not roughly, but with urgency—and led her into the grand, modern space. She barely had time to register the familiar scent of leather and cedar before he shut the door behind them with a loud click.
"Lucian, I—"
But before she could finish, he spun toward her.