Chapter 2 LUCIEN'S POV

"I told you not to follow her."

My voice dropped lower than usual, the kind of quiet that made men flinch. Marcus didn't flinch. He leaned against the hallway wall like he owned the building and wore that same smug grin he always wore when he was about to ruin something.

I wanted to punch it off his face.

"She looked surprised to see me," he said.

"You were never part of this. Stay out of it."

Marcus pushed off the wall and walked toward me, slow and confident like he still had leverage. "I wasn't part of it, Lucien, until I found out you made her your little project. You sure you're ready to play with something that fragile?"

"That fragile woman could bankrupt your entire existence if I let her."

"But you won't," he said. "You like your toys beautiful and broken, not dangerous."

"Get to the point."

Marcus stepped close, close enough that I could smell his expensive cologne and the lie beneath it. "You marrying Ivy Monroe makes me nervous. And when I get nervous, I start talking to people. Like journalists. Lawyers. Old investors who still think your daddy walked on water."

I didn't blink. "Threats are boring, Marcus."

He smiled wider. "Good thing this one's real. You marry her and I go public with what really happened the night of the Verona deal."

"That's your move?"

"Unless you walk away."

I looked past him, down the hallway she had just disappeared into. "You still don't understand how this works."

"You always think you're five steps ahead."

"I don't think. I know."

"Then explain something to me," he said, voice dropping. "Why her? You could have picked any woman in this city and had them signed and sealed by lunch. Why drag up the one girl who told you to choke on your own ego?"

"Because she meant it when she said it."

"And that turns you on?" He asked, his eyebrow cocked.

"No. That makes her honest."

Marcus blinked like that answer didn't fit his game board. I stepped around him and opened the door to the suite again, already done with him, already thinking two plays ahead.

"Tell your lawyers to sit tight," I said.

"You're not listening to me."

I turned slowly. "You're bluffing. You've always been a coward hiding behind people who can spell. The Verona deal is buried, and you know it. You blow it open and your name goes down with mine."

His jaw twitched.

"Get out of my building, Marcus."

"I'll be back."

"You won't make it past the lobby."

He turned with a mutter I didn't care to hear. The second the elevator doors closed behind him, I pulled out my phone.

"Get eyes on Monroe," I said the second it connected. "He followed her. She doesn't know yet. Make sure she gets home safe, and stay invisible."

"Understood."

I hung up and walked back into the penthouse.

The room still smelled like her. Vanilla and citrus. Warm, real, nothing like the polished socialites that normally floated in and out of my life.

I poured a drink I didn't want and sat down at the bar.

"You let her get to you," Julian said from the doorway.

"You're late."

"You're in denial."

I didn't respond. I swirled the drink in my cup.

Julian took a seat across from me, dropped his briefcase on the marble counter, and flipped it open. "Board meeting in three days. Any sign she'll say yes?"

"She'll say yes."

"You sure?"

I looked at the untouched contract sitting on the bar. "She'll say yes because she's scared. But she won't run. Not when it counts."

"You're betting a billion-dollar empire on that."

"I'm betting on her pain being stronger than her pride."

Julian winced. "That's cold."

"It's honest."

He leaned back. "You sure you're not enjoying this more than you should?"

I didn't answer that. I finished the drink in one swallow and stood.

"Ivy Monroe is a risk," he said carefully.

"And risks are why I'm not the one sitting in that chair across the room begging for my next paycheck."

Julian closed his folder. "Just don't get sentimental. You're good at playing the villain, Lucien. But this time, your pawn has a heart. And a sister. And a past that doesn't belong to you."

I met his eyes. "Then it's a good thing I never play fair."

The next morning, she came back.

Ivy didn't knock. She walked in like she had every right to be there and dropped the signed contract on my desk like it weighed nothing.

"You sure about this?" I asked.

"You don't get to ask me that. Not after everything."

I picked up the contract and flipped through the pages. "You didn't even redline anything."

"Didn't think it would matter."

"You could've asked for more."

She crossed her arms. "I'm not greedy. I'm desperate."

"You'll have your own wing. Staff. Driver. Anything else?"

"I want complete control of my schedule. I'm not parading around in designer gowns at charity galas unless I want to."

"Fine."

"And I want Mia's doctors switched. The hospital she's in now is terrible."

"Already handled."

She blinked. "You already-"

"You signed late. I had time to make calls."

Ivy stared at me like she was trying to see through me. I stared back because I wasn't trying to hide.

"When do we do the whole wedding thing?" she asked.

"This Saturday. Small. Clean. No press."

"So fake vows, fake dress, fake smile."

"You're good at pretending things don't hurt. Remember?" I said.

She looked away.

"You can back out, Ivy."

She looked back. "You want me to?"

"No."

"Then stop pretending you're doing me a favor."

"Is that how you see this?"

"I see this as survival. And you as the knife I had to pick up to cut the rope."

I didn't let that show on my face. She turned to leave.

"Ivy."

She paused at the door.

"You'll need to move in today. Wardrobe fittings, house walkthrough, interviews with the staff. We have a week to make this look real."

She gave a bitter smile. "Real was never the problem. It's surviving the fake that's going to cost me."

Then she was gone.

And I was left with a signature on paper and a war I couldn't afford to lose.

She moved in that night.

Watched every staff member like they might bite. Refused help carrying her single suitcase. Ignored the walk-in closet full of custom designer clothes.

"You really went for the whole billionaire cliché," she said, flipping through a rack of dresses with a scoff.

"You agreed to wear what I choose."

"You agreed to stay out of my bedroom."

"That clause went both ways."

I turned and walked down the hall to my office. She followed me.

"What do you want out of this, Lucien? Really?"

"I already told you."

"The inheritance. The board. The press. Yeah, I know all that. But what's the thing you're not saying?"

I paused with my hand on the door.

"You think I'm lying to you?"

"I think you're lying to yourself."

I stepped closer.

"Careful, Ivy. You're starting to sound like you care."

She didn't blink. "I care about knowing who I just signed my life away to for the next twelve months."

"And if I told you that you already do?"

"Then I'd say you're full of yourself."

"Maybe."

She stepped back. "This whole thing is insane."

"Yet here you are."

"Yeah. Here I am."

Ivy turned, walked toward her new bedroom, then paused at the door and looked over her shoulder.

"Did you know Marcus would be outside the suite yesterday?" She asked.

My silence was answer enough.

"You said I wouldn't fall for you. But you never warned me about the people waiting to use me against you."

Before I could respond, she disappeared into the bedroom and slammed the door.

And I didn't have time to chase after her.

Because my phone lit up with a photo.

It was Ivy.

And she wasn't alone.

She was in a dark alley.

And someone had a hand around her arm.