LOGINI understand that not everyone will be pleased with the storyline, the chapters, or my writing style, and that's okay. I am still grateful to everyone who invested their time in this story. Many may not know this, but I am a research student. Writing fiction serves as my escape from the monotony of my work because storytelling is my passion. I enjoy sharing my story with you and am grateful for the love that my story is receiving. So, keep supporting me because your encouragement fuels me to write even on the days when I don't want to.
LucasThe first thing that hits me when I enter Arthur’s office is the smell of smoke. Thick. Bitter. It sits in the room like it belongs here. Arthur takes another pull from his cigar and exhales slowly, eyes never leaving me as I cross the threshold. He looks exactly as he always does when he wants control. Relaxed posture. Sharp attention.The door closes behind me with a quiet finality. No echo. No drama. Just a sound that tells me this conversation is meant to stay contained.Arthur gestures toward the empty chair in front of his desk. I sit, my movements calm, my focus already dissecting the room. The bookshelf behind him. The way his fingers rest near the ashtray. The faint tension in his jaw that suggests he is expecting resistance.“So,” I say, skipping any pretense, “what is going on?”He does not answer right away. He watches me instead, like he is deciding which version of the truth to offer.“Arthur,” I continue, keeping my voice even, “I need to know everything. This is
LucasWhen Arthur called me that night, I did not pause to think. My mind knew it was related to Aurora.That is enough to make every other consideration feel small.Jack argued first. He always does when he thinks I am walking into something sharp. Mikhail backed him up, quieter but no less firm. Coming alone was a bad idea. Walking into her family’s territory without support was unnecessary risk. They were not wrong. I knew that even as I ignored them.I could not bring anyone else into this. If something went wrong, it needed to end with me. So I told them I was going alone.When I reached the estate, Arthur met me before I even fully stepped inside. He looked the same as always. Controlled. Composed. But there was something underneath it that night, something restless.He told me he was going to acknowledge my relationship with Aurora in front of everyone.Not ask. Not suggest. State.He did not give details. He did not explain the timing. He just said it needed to happen tonight.
AuroraThe aura coming off Lucas is something I have never felt before.It presses into the space around him quietly, like the room itself has decided to lean away.There is something so dangerous about him... something you can't pinpoint at, yet you can feel it in your bones.The woman is still talking when he reaches them.She is halfway through another sentence, lips pursed with that familiar mix of pity and superiority, when she notices him. Her words die mid-breath. It is almost comical, the way her confidence evaporates. Her eyes flick to his face, then past him, as if searching for backup that does not exist.Lucas smiles.It is polite. Perfectly shaped. Empty.The kind of smile that makes your stomach drop before your mind catches up. There is no warmth in it, not even a trace. Just restraint sharpened to an edge.“The woman you are talking about,” he says, voice even and clear, “is my woman.”Every sound in the room thins out. Conversations stall. Someone behind me clears the
AuroraPeople start moving toward us almost immediately. It happens in waves, like someone opened a gate and now everyone feels permitted. Smiles, nods, hands extending. Congratulations offered in soft voices and louder ones. I catch fragments as they pass through me.You look beautiful together. Such a striking pair. He suits you. She suits you.I notice the way people look at Lucas first, then at me, then back at Lucas again as if confirming something they already decided. I am used to being looked at, assessed, weighed. Tonight feels different.I always tell myself that opinions do not matter. That I do not need validation from strangers or family friends or anyone who only sees fragments of me. Most days, that is true. Tonight, though, the words slip past my defenses. They land somewhere soft.It makes me feel like I belong here beside him. Like I earned this space without having to ask for it.Because Lucas is Lucas.I know how people see him. I see it every time he walks into
AuroraEach step he takes feels like something clicking into place. The room shifts around him. Conversations lose their rhythm. Glasses pause halfway to lips. Someone laughs too loud and then stops. I catch all of it because my mind does that thing where it notices too much at once. Lucas has that kind of presence that bends attention without trying. The kind that makes rooms rearrange themselves around him. It would take a miracle for him to walk in somewhere and not pull every gaze his way.Mine.The thought hits me fast and unapologetic. A tight, possessive warmth wraps around my chest, not painful, just insistent. I watch the way his shoulders move beneath his suit jacket, how his gaze stays forward even when he knows people are staring. He does not scan the room. He does not look impressed or curious. He walks like he already knows what is about to happen next, already sure of the next move... sure of himself.The Russells stiffen first. Mr. Russells shoulders draw back a touch,
AuroraThe music fades in a soft, polite way, like it knows it has done its job and should step aside now. Lucas loosens his hold first. Always him. Always controlled. He steps back just enough to remind the world where the line is, even if my body wants to pretend that line does not exist.Then he takes my hand.Not possessive. Not rushed. Just his fingers closing around mine, warm and familiar, and he lifts my hand between us. His lips brush my knuckles, light enough to feel like a secret meant only for me. The sensation spreads fast, heat unfurling through my chest, my arms, my mark responding with a quiet throb that makes me suck in a breath.I look at him, searching his face. His eyes are calm, unreadable to anyone else. To me, they say everything.He guides me off the dance floor, releasing my hand only when we reach the edge. For a moment I stand there, watching him walk away like he belongs here, like he has always belonged here. He joins a group of men near the far side of th







