Chapter 6 – The Man Beneath the Monster
[Aria's POV]
I couldn't sleep.
Not in that bed. Not in this house. Not with him just down the hall.
Lucien Moretti's presence lingered like smoke—rich, suffocating, and impossible to ignore. Even behind the walls of the penthouse, every creak of the floorboards felt like his shadow. Every breath I took was laced with the weight of our deal.
Except it wasn't just a deal anymore.
It was a sentence. A slow-burn punishment disguised in silk sheets and whispered threats.
I slipped out of bed, the marble floors cool against my feet as I wandered toward the hallway. The house was too quiet—too polished. No life in it, just like the man who owned it.
But then I heard something.
A voice. No—two.
Low and urgent, from behind the door that led to his private study. I moved closer, quiet as a whisper.
"...the Russians won't back off. They want blood," a man's voice said.
Lucien responded. "They'll get a message. One body at a time."
Chills crawled up my spine.
There was no emotion in his tone. No hesitation. He wasn't bluffing. Lucien dealt in death the way others dealt in currency.
But then something shifted. His voice dropped.
"And make sure Aria doesn't know about the threat. Not yet."
My breath hitched. I stepped back, heart racing.
Why… was he protecting me?
---
[Lucien's POV]
The walls were thin.
I knew she heard.
It was deliberate. I didn't warn her about the threat because I needed her to feel safe. But I also didn't close the study door tight enough because I needed her to know—part of her new world was built on corpses.
The sooner she stopped flinching, the better.
Still, I didn't expect to see her shadow disappear down the hallway like a ghost.
She wasn't sleeping. She was watching. Listening. Testing me.
Good.
She needed to understand I wasn't her enemy—but I wasn't her savior, either.
---
[Later that Night – Aria's POV]
He knocked.
Lucien never knocked. But tonight, he stood outside my door like he belonged there. His tie was gone, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal a dark tattoo slashed across his collarbone.
"I didn't mean to scare you," he said, voice like thunder trapped in velvet.
"You didn't," I lied.
He stepped closer, eyes searching mine. "You heard."
"I'm not deaf," I said, chin raised.
His gaze dipped to my lips. "You're not stupid either. That's why I chose you."
"Chose? You mean bought."
He smirked, dark and slow. "Same thing in this world."
I should've slapped him. I should've screamed. But instead, I stood frozen as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from my cheek like I was something fragile.
"I don't want you afraid of me, Aria," he said, fingers lingering.
"Then stop acting like I should be."
He exhaled—a sharp, tired sound. "Too late for that."
Then he leaned in.
His mouth hovered near mine, and my breath caught. There was a slow, aching pause in the air, like the world was waiting to collapse. My heart thundered.
But he didn't kiss me.
Instead, he whispered, "Lock your door tonight. You're not the only one watching."
And just like that, he was gone.
---
[Lucien's POV – Hours Later]
I watched her on the security feed, curled in bed, eyes wide open.
The girl was too strong for her own good.
Too brave.
She hadn't screamed. She hadn't broken. Even when she should've.
But I could read fear in the tension of her fingers, the way she clutched the pillow like a lifeline. I hated that.
I wanted her to fear me—but only me. Not the world. Not the wolves I was keeping at bay.
She had no idea what kind of darkness I was shielding her from.
Not yet.
---
[Next Morning – Aria's POV]
I found him in the kitchen.
Shirtless.
Lucien stood at the stove, flipping eggs like he hadn't threatened an international crime syndicate last night. His back was a canvas of muscle and ink. There was a deep scar trailing along his right side, old and brutal.
I stared, caught between awe and confusion.
"Hungry?" he asked without turning.
"You cook?"
"I kill, I clean, I cook." He glanced over his shoulder with a smirk. "Aren't you lucky?"
I didn't reply. Not because I had no words—but because I didn't want to let him see me smile.
He placed a plate in front of me. Eggs. Toast. Strawberries.
"Trying to fatten me up?" I asked.
"No," he said, eyes locking with mine. "Trying to keep you alive."
The silence that followed was thick.
Finally, I spoke. "You could've just taken the money from my father."
"I didn't want his money," he said. "I wanted something that hurt more."
I stared at him, horrified. "So I'm a punishment?"
He leaned in close. "No, Aria. You're the only part of this deal that doesn't disappoint me."
My cheeks flushed.
And just like that, he walked away again—leaving me alone with the one thing I feared more than him:
The possibility that I might start to want him.