Chapter 2 - Shadows of the Past
Lucas did not answer immediately. He took a slow sip of his drink, his dark eyes never leaving my face. The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken histories, until the hum of the city far below felt like a distant heartbeat.
“I don't make a habit of letting battered strangers sleep on my leather,” Lucas finally said, his voice level. “And Lorraine is my cousin. If someone brought blood and fear into her life—and by extension, mine—I make it my business to know why.”
“Your business,” I echoed, a bitter taste rising in my mouth that had nothing to do with the whiskey. “Is that what you call running a background check on someone who stumbled into your penthouse?”
“It’s called self-preservation.” He set his glass down on the mahogany table with a soft click. “Now, do I need to guess, or are you going to tell me the name of the man who thought he could mark what doesn't belong to him?”
“His name is Derek,” I whispered, the name feeling toxic just passing my lips. “Derek Vance.”
The moment the syllables left my mouth, the atmosphere in the room shifted. It wasn't a dramatic explosion, but rather the sudden, chilling drop in temperature before a winter storm. The relaxed, almost conversational air vanished from Lucas entirely. The man sitting across from me suddenly looked every bit the apex predator who ruled Riverton’s underworld with an iron fist.
Lucas went entirely still. The lines around his mouth hardened into carved stone.
“Vance?” he repeated, the word clipped, dangerous, and dangerously quiet. “Derek Vance? Senior partner at Vance & Associates?”
I blinked, surprised that he recognized the name. “Yes. You know him?”
“Know him?” Lucas let out a short, humorless breath that sounded more like a threat. “Derek Vance has been trying to worm his way into my real estate portfolios for six months. A slick, corporate shark who smiles while he drives knives into his competitors' backs.” Lucas’s gaze snapped back to mine, sharp as a razor. “And apparently, a coward who beats women behind closed doors.”
“He’s… he seemed different when we met,” I said, looking down into my untouched glass. The amber liquid mirrored the distortion of my own thoughts. “Charming. Brilliant. He made me feel like the only person in the world. It didn't start with violence, Mr. Moretti. It started with love. Too much love. Too much attention. By the time I realized it was a cage, the door was already locked.”
“Don’t call me Mr. Moretti,” he said curtly. “Lucas.”
“Lucas,” I corrected softly.
He stood up, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. He looked out over the sprawling city lights, his broad back turned to me, though I knew he was tracking every movement I made in the glass reflection.
“Men like Vance don't change,” Lucas said, his voice dropping into a register that sent a shiver straight down my spine. “They collect things. They acquire art, property, and people, and when those things don't bend to their will, they break them so they fit back on the shelf.”
“He thinks I’m his property,” I said, my voice cracking despite my best efforts. “He tracked my purchases, he isolated me from my colleagues, and tonight… tonight I dropped a coffee cup. Just a ceramic mug. It slipped from my hand and shattered on the kitchen tile. He looked at me like I had committed a treasonous crime. When I flinched, he lost his mind.”
I pulled the silk sleeve back slightly, exposing the dark, ugly bruises shaped like fingertips wrapping around my forearm.
In the reflection of the glass, I saw Lucas’s hands clench into fists so tight his knuckles turned bone-white. The muscles in his forearms strained against his rolled-up sleeves.
“He’s going to look for me,” I whispered, the terror finally breaking through the numbness. “He knows Lorraine. He knows where the gallery is. If he finds out I’m here—”
“He won't find you,” Lucas interrupted, turning around. His voice left zero room for argument. It was absolute. Unyielding. “Vance thinks he owns this city because he won a few corporate real estate bids. He doesn't know the first thing about actual power.”
“You don't understand what he’s capable of,” I insisted, standing up, ignoring the protest of my ribs. “Derek is meticulous. He leaves nothing to chance.”
“Neither do I, Lily.”
May you like
He closed the distance between us with startling speed. Before I could step back, he reached out. His fingers hovered millimeters from my bruised jaw, not touching the sensitive skin, but warm enough that I could feel the radiant heat rolling off him. His eyes burned into mine with an intensity that made it difficult to draw breath.
“You are safe in this penthouse,” Lucas said quietly, his gaze locked onto mine. “And tomorrow, we are going to find out why a high-flying corporate lawyer with a pristine public image is so desperate to keep you locked away. Because a man like Derek Vance doesn't hide a wife like a dirty secret unless he’s hiding something much worse.”
