(Warning: This chapter contains mature intimate content. Reader discretion is advised.)
Marcus appeared at his shoulder as if summoned. "Sir, your car is ready."
Lucien's eyes sharpened. Marcus never interrupted unless there was a problem. He might have realized what was happening.
"Excuse us," Lucien said to their current conversation partners. "My wife needs some air."
He guided Lior toward the exit with controlled urgency, Marcus cleared a path ahead of them. Behind them, Victoria Blackwell watched their hasty departure with growing alarm.
This wasn't how it was supposed to happen.
"Where are we going?" Lior asked, though her words felt thick, hard to form properly.
The car was waiting outside, engine running. Marcus held the door as Lucien helped Lior inside, her legs unsteady beneath the gown.
As they pulled away from the museum, the partition between them and the driver slid up with a soft hum. Privacy glass, soundproof. Marcus had thought of everything.
Lior's skin felt like it was burning. Every brush of fabric against her body sent electricity shooting through her nerves. The scent of Lucien's cologne was overwhelming, making her want to move closer, to breathe him in.
"What's happening to me?" she whispered, pressing her palms against her flushed cheeks.
Lucien's jaw was tight with control that was rapidly slipping. "Someone drugged your champagne."
"But you drank from it too." Her voice was breathless, confused.
"To the hospital," Lucien told the driver, his voice tight with control.
"No." The word escaped her lips before she could stop it. "I don't want to go to the hospital."
She turned toward him, and the movement made her dizzy. Without thinking, she reached for him, her hands finding his chest, pulling him toward her.
Her mouth found his, desperate and needy. He tried to push her away, his hands on her shoulders, but she made a sound of protest that shot straight through him.
"Lior, be good."
"Do you find me repulsive?" she whispered against his lips, and something in her voice-vulnerable, hurt-made his resolve crack.
"Do you know what you're doing?" His voice was rough, strained.
Instead of answering, she kissed him again, and his control shattered completely.
His mouth was on hers, hard and demanding, tasting the champagne and whatever drug Victoria had laced it with. Lior's lips parted under his assault, and he took advantage, his tongue sweeping into her mouth.
Her hands fisted in his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. A sound escaped her throat, somewhere between a moan and a whimper.
He hauled her across the seat and into his lap, one hand tangling in her carefully styled hair, the other gripping her waist through her.
"Sterling Heights," he told the driver.
The rest of the ride passed in a blur. Her dress bunched around her thighs. His bow tie disappeared. Her hands pulling at his shirt, anything that separated them.
They barely made it through the front door.
Lucien's hands gripped her waist, yanking her against him. She reached for his shirt, but he caught her wrists.
He lifted her and carried her up the stairs to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind them. The dress tore as he ripped it away, fabric shredding under his hands.
He dropped her onto his bed and stood over her, taking in her flushed skin, her wide eyes, the way her chest rose and fell with rapid breaths.
Then he was on her. His mouth crashed down on hers, his tongue forcing past her lips, claiming her mouth completely. His hands pinned her wrists above her head, his grip unbreakable.
She arched beneath him as he kissed his way down her throat, his teeth scraping against her pulse point. He positioned her exactly how he wanted her, spreading her legs with his knee.
"Lucien...."
He thrust inside her without warning. She screamed, her back bowing off the bed as her body stretched around him for the first time. The barrier tore, and she felt a sharp stab of pain.
He stilled for a moment, feeling the tightness,her body gripped him. A low growl rumbled in his chest at the sensation.
"Breathe," he said roughly against her ear.
She gasped, her body trembling beneath his weight as she adjusted to the invasion. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes. When she finally relaxed slightly, he began to move.
Slow at first, letting her feel every inch as he withdrew and pushed back in. She whimpered at the fullness,he stretched her completely.
Then his control snapped.
He drove into her with ruthless intensity, his hips slamming against hers. She cried out with each powerful thrust, her hands clawing at his back.
"Too much," she gasped, but her body was already responding, her hips lifting to meet his despite her words.
He growled against her throat, his teeth finding her shoulder.
His muscles bunched and flexed as he claimed her, sweat beading on his skin from the effort. She could feel his heart pounding against her chest, could hear his ragged breathing in her ear.
Her cries turned from pain to something desperate and needy. Her body began to move with his, meeting each thrust. The drug made everything feel electric and overwhelming.
"Please," she sobbed, not sure what she was begging for.
He hooked her legs over his shoulders, driving deeper. She screamed his name, her body arching impossibly as sensation crashed over her.
When she finally broke apart beneath him, her inner walls clenching around him, he threw his head back and groaned deep in his throat. But he didn't stop.
Her eyes met his, dazed and overwhelmed. He watched her face as he moved inside her one final time, she fell apart beneath him once more.
His own release came with a growl that seemed to echo from his chest.
They collapsed together, both breathing hard, marked by what had transpired.
When dawn crept through the windows, she lay broken and trembling in his sheets. Her body ached everywhere. Her thighs bore evidence of his claiming, her throat marked by his mouth.
Lucien was already reaching for his clothes.
"Stay here," he said without looking at her.
She tried to sit up and whimpered at the soreness between her legs. Everything hurt.
Her dress from the day before lay in tatters across his floor.
"I don't have anything to wear," she whispered, her voice hoarse.
He pulled a shirt from his closet and tossed it to her.
The shirt hung to her knees, covering the evidence of his possession. But she could still feel him everywhere.
As she struggled to stand on trembling legs, there was a soft knock at the door.
"Sir?" came a woman's voice. "Would you like breakfast prepared?"
Lucien was already dressed. "Mrs. Chen. Yes. Something substantial for Mrs. Pembroke. She needs to recover her strength."
Lior's face burned with humiliation. The housekeeper knew exactly what had happened.
"Of course, sir. I'll prepare extra portions."
When the footsteps retreated, Lior stared at him in horror.
He straightened his his clothes with casual indifference. "Get some rest. I have calls to make."
During the whole process, Lior had cried out several times as she felt her entire body respond, coming alive for him in ways she'd never imagined.
Her voice had turned hoarse from screaming his name, obsessed with the sensations he'd wrung from her.
Thinking of this, Lior clenched her fists and flushed. She walked unsteadily toward the bathroom, desperate to escape the evidence of what had happened.
Her arms were aching, her legs felt uncertain, and she stumbled after two steps.
Damn it. She flushed at the memory, and she couldn't even bring herself to think about it clearly. He was so ruthless.
He'd claimed her for hours. Hours.
In his study downstairs, Lucien buttoned his shirt slowly as he reviewed emails on his phone. Obviously, the night had satisfied something primal in him. But his expression darkened when he saw movement on the security monitor - Lior trying to leave his bedroom.
"Where are you going?" His voice cut through the intercom system.
She froze at the bathroom door. Even from downstairs, he was still controlling her movements.
"I need a shower," she said quietly, her voice barely audible through the speaker.
"Mrs. Chen will bring you what you need."
Twenty minutes later, there was a soft knock. Mrs. Chen entered with a breakfast tray, her expression carefully neutral.
"Mr. Pembroke said you'd need this," she said, setting down a tray laden with food. "And I've drawn you a bath with healing salts. It will help with the soreness."
Lior's face burned. The housekeeper's matter-of-fact tone somehow made it worse. This was normal in Lucien's world. Staff who accommodated the aftermath of their employer's appetites.
"Thank you," Lior whispered.
Mrs. Chen moved efficiently around the room, gathering the torn remnants of the midnight blue dress. "I'll have replacements sent up. Mr. Pembroke left specific instructions about your wardrobe going forward."
Of course he had. Even her clothes were now under his control.
"Mrs. Chen?" Lior's voice was small. "How long have you worked for Mr. Pembroke?"
"A long time ma'am. Since he bought Sterling Heights." The older woman's expression softened slightly. "He's a good employer. Fair. Protective of what matters to him."
The implication was clear. Lior now mattered to him, which meant she was under Mrs. Chen's protection as well.
After the housekeeper left, Lior attempted to eat, but her stomach churned with each movement.
Her phone buzzed with a message from Maya.
"How was the fancy gala? Did you feel like Cinderella?"
Lior stared at the message, not knowing how to respond. How did you tell your best friend that you'd been drugged and claimed so completely by your contract husband that you could barely walk?
"It was... intense," she typed back.
"Good intense or bad intense?"
Lior's fingers hovered over the keyboard. She didn't know.
Meanwhile, in his office at Sterling Heights, Lucien was reviewing footage from the gala with Marcus. The security team had been thorough.
"There," Marcus pointed to the screen. "Miss Blackwell approached Mrs. Pembroke at 9:47 PM. She specifically selected the champagne glass from the waiter's tray."
Lucien's jaw tightened as he watched Victoria's calculated movements.
"The drug?" he asked.
"Rohypnol, most likely. Enough to incapacitate but not enough to cause permanent harm. The lab is still running tests on the glass we retrieved."
Marcus pulled up additional footage. "Security cameras show she had a room reserved at the Plaza. Under an assumed name. She also had a photographer on standby in the hotel lobby."
The picture became clear. Victoria had intended to drug Lior, then compromise Lucien while photographing the results. She definitely had something for him too ,a scandal that would destroy his marriage and position Victoria as the wronged party who'd tried to save him.
"And my mother?"
"Mrs. Pembroke met with Miss Blackwell three times this week. Phone records show extensive communication."
Lucien's expression went cold. His own mother had orchestrated this attack on his wife.
"Sir?" Marcus waited for instructions.
"Handle Victoria quietly. She'll find her social standing has deteriorated significantly. As for my mother..." Lucien's voice carried deadly calm. "She's no longer welcome at Sterling Heights."
"And Mrs. Pembroke? Should we inform her of the conspiracy?"
Lucien considered this. Lior was upstairs, probably struggling with what had happened between them. Learning that his family had drugged her, that their first time together had been orchestrated by his own mother and family friend, would devastate her.
"No need. Let her recover first."
"Sir, there's something else." Marcus hesitated. "The Chen-Nakamura representatives were asking questions. They're concerned about Mrs. Pembroke's sudden departure from the gala."
"What kind of questions?"
"Whether the marriage is legitimate. If there are problems it might affect the merger."
Lucien's eyes sharpened. The merger that had necessitated this entire arrangement was now threatened by the very people trying to destroy it.
"Schedule a private dinner with them. We will meet them Mrs Pembroke."
"Sir?"
"It's time they meet with my wife properly."
Marcus nodded. "I'll make the arrangements."
As Marcus left, Lucien's phone chimed with a text from an unknown number: "Did you enjoy the champagne? - V"
Victoria's arrogance would be her downfall.
He deleted the message and climbed the stairs to his bedroom.
Lior was curled in his bed, wearing one of his shirts, looking small and vulnerable against the dark sheets. She looked up when he entered, her green eyes wary.
"How are you feeling?" he asked, settling on the edge of the bed.