Her mind raced; she did not know what to say; she was at a loss for words, and when she finally regained her composure, she turned to him and her eyes narrowed.
He was just there acting as though everything was fine; all of this was normal when it was not. They were talking about her life as though it was just a business deal, but then again, that was normal within their family; it had always been like that. It was why she ran away in the first place and chose Kael.
Everything about the family was power and image, no place for something as futile as fleeting love, as they call it, a delusion that would fade with time, something that people create for themselves in order to feel secure.
Her fists clenched at her sides and she took a deep breath before swallowing. "Who?"
"Darian Vellgrave," he said without hesitation. "Heir to the Vellgrave syndicate. Disciplined. Ruthless. And interested."
Her eyes widened and a shiver ran down her spine. She knew and heard of that name before; it was not one that she thought would ever be involved in her life, yet there she was, listening to his name as though it had a right to be in her life.
"Obsessed, you mean," she snapped.
Lucien smirked as he leaned forward, looking at her from head to toe and his eyes narrowed. "You know him?"
She didn't answer, her mind swirling with the new information, one that she was still trying to process under all of the other emotions she was feeling at the moment.
That was enough of an answer; he did not need to ask any further questions. All he needed to do was look at her facial expression and he could already tell she did not like him.
He continued, undeterred by her reaction or what she even thought of the situation. "The Vellgraves are powerful. Old money. Quiet influence. This alliance will keep the other families in check and strengthen ours and give you some recognition that your past mistake will not affect the present or the future to come."
Her eyes widened slightly when she heard that; she knew he was calling her previous marriage with her love a mistake and that was one thing she was not going to tolerate, even from so-called family. "I'm not marrying some psychopath so you can play politics."
His gaze sharpened at her defiant stance. "You are."
"I'll disappear again. I will not let you sell me off like some sort of trophy to be paraded around by some rich monster," she said and his brows furrowed at her choice of words.
He leaned forward, his voice low and dangerous. "You are not that naïve. You think we didn't learn from the last time you ran? You think you were not followed? Watched? That we didn't know where you were—who you were with and what you were doing?"
Her blood went cold when she heard what he said, and then she glanced at the door, the bodyguard that was standing there, the very one that dragged her here. It was him; she knew it and it did not take much for her to figure out what was really going on and it made her feel sick to the stomach.
"I let you have your little fantasy," he said, tone casual, almost bored. "Your little affair with the scarred stray. I even let you mourn him. But now it's time you understood—nothing you have is yours. Not your name. Not your freedom. Not even your grief."
"You used me; you cannot tell me how to live my life; this is my life," she hissed, her gaze fixed on him and the bodyguard's eyes narrowed as he looked at the tense exchange between the two of them; he knew this was not going to end well.
"I own you," he corrected, rising to his feet with a slow, deliberate motion. "Every resource we gave you, every favor we cleaned up after. We have kept you alive, girl. And now it's time to pay the debt. I do not care if you are my granddaughter; even you have your responsibilities, and it is about time that you fulfill them."
She stared him down, chest rising and falling, every breath a fight to keep herself from falling apart, from not breaking down completely. She felt trapped; it was as if all the open doors her late husband had created for her were closing around her at a rapid pace.
"Darian doesn't want a wife," she said. "He wants a weapon, maybe not even a weapon, just someone to satisfy his sick needs; who knows?"
Lucien smiled at her. "Then be a sharper blade; you will have choices. What happens and what he does will vary to you as well."
She stepped back, shaking her head. She did not want any of this; she did not want to be tied to another man, especially not so soon after her husband was gone and this very day, they had his funeral. "No. No, I won't—"
"You will," he cut in, making the room go quiet. "Or we will dig up everything you buried with that husband of yours. We will rip apart every safe haven you have built. There won't be a corner of this country where our eyes aren't watching."
The words struck like a slap across the face; he was threatening what she had with the man she loved, all the sacred moments were at stake; she knew she could not let that happen.
He turned, dismissing her already. "You'll have dinner with Darian tomorrow. Wear something respectable. Try not to embarrass us."
She stood there, frozen.
"What you are doing is wrong, but you people do not care about the difference between wrong and right as long as it gets you what you want. Do you think I'll go quietly?" She asked, her voice trembling slightly and her knuckles turning white from the pressure.
Lucien didn't even look at her. "No. But you'll go. Because we have already taken your silence as consent."
She did not need to hear any more of what he had to say; she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.