Tempting

Lucian Ashford POV

"What?!" she gasped, eyes widening in shock.

If only she knew how true my words were—her scent, her presence, driving me to the brink of madness.

How dare the Winget family—and Dalton Maris—treat her like they did.

They would all pay. Every single one of them.

"Stop wriggling," I murmured, my voice low, "you're only making me want to kiss you more."

"Have some shame," Janet snapped, pushing against me. I tightened my hold, her struggles only fueling my need.

"I'm still your nephew’s fiancée," she hissed.

My lips curled into a slow, mocking smile. "You still have the guts to call yourself that? After he threw you in jail? After he humiliated you today?"

More than anger, I felt pity. She really is clueless.

After everything Dalton had done, clinging to that title was nothing short of pathetic.

Janet stiffened in my arms, her fists pressing weakly against my chest. She wouldn't meet my eyes. Maybe she already knew how pathetic it sounded.

"Let go of me, Lucian," she whispered, her voice trembling.

I leaned closer, lowering my head until our foreheads nearly touched. Her breath hitched, sweet and shaky against my lips.

"Why?" I murmured. "So you can run back to him? Beg for crumbs after he spat on you?"

Her hands faltered, the fight bleeding from her body. She stood frozen, trapped between pride and humiliation—and I savored every second of it.

"You don't belong to him anymore," I said, my voice rough. "You never did."

For a moment, all I heard was her unsteady breathing.

"I don't belong to you either," she answered, finally, her voice breaking on the last word.

A bitter chuckle rumbled from my chest. "No," I agreed softly. "But you will."

She flinched, and guilt—sharp and unwanted—nicked at the edge of my anger. I crushed it down. Now wasn't the time for weakness.

"You deserve better, Janet," I said, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "And whether you like it or not, I'm going to make sure you get it."

"Why are you doing this to me?" she choked out, tears spilling down her cheeks. "I don't want 'better.' Who even are you? Why would you want to help me?"

My chest tightened, everything inside me crumbling at the sight of her. Without thinking, I leaned forward and touched my tongue to the salty trail of her tear.

"Don't waste your tears, Janet," the words escaped as my lips brushed over her trembling eyelashes, tasting the salt of her sorrow.

I pulled her into my arms, my hand gliding along her back in slow, soothing strokes.

She meant more to me than she could ever understand.

Even if I couldn’t tell her yet why I was doing all of this, watching her break only awakened something darker inside me—something I could barely control.

"You are so bad," she cried, her voice breaking into sobs, as if accusing me—and yet sounding heartbreakingly innocent.

"Yes, I am bad."

"You're not even telling me why you're acting like this," she hiccupped. "You're just... doing whatever you want."

I tightened my hold, feeling the tremors rippling through her small frame.

"I already told you," I said quietly, my lips brushing her temple. "This situation benefits me too. Why does it matter why I'm doing this?"

She pushed weakly against me, her fists trembling with frustration. Her tears soaked through my shirt, each drop burning hotter than the last.

"You don't understand anything," she mumbled, her words muffled against my chest.

A bitter smile tugged at my mouth.

No—you’re the one who doesn’t understand.

Not yet.

But soon, she would.

I pressed a kiss to the crown of her head, inhaling the sweet scent of her. A dangerous kind of satisfaction coiled in my chest.

"I’ll make sure this is the last time you cry, Janet," I said, breaking the hug to gently cup her cheek. "You don’t look good when you’re crying. Aren't you hungry? How about having dinner with me? It’s already late."

She didn’t answer—just stood there, small and trembling in my arms.

I took her silence as a yes.

Wiping her tears with the sleeve of my shirt, I laced my fingers around hers and led her toward the car, where my driver was already waiting.

The night air was cool against her flushed cheeks. She shivered slightly, and without thinking, I pulled her closer, wrapping an arm around her as we walked.

At last, I had Janet in my arms.

How long I had waited for this—how unbearable it had been.

Seeing me approach, my driver immediately stepped forward and opened the car door.

I guided Janet inside first, making sure she was settled before sliding in after her. The door shut with a soft click.

She stared out the window, silent, lost somewhere deep inside herself. Her fingers twisted nervously in her lap.

I watched her for a moment.

"You can take a nap. Close your eyes, Janet," I said, pulling her gently into my lap.

Her eyes widened. "Huh?"

"Sleep," I murmured, settling her head against my chest. I patted her hair softly, feeling her warm breath falling over me in slow, uneven waves.

"You're so strange," she said, her voice soft, almost tender.

"I can be anything for you, Janet," I said, brushing my hand through her hair in slow, steady strokes. "One command from you, and I’ll do anything."

"Why so?" she asked, barely louder than a breath.

"I don’t need a reason when it comes to you."

"Scary," she said, flinching as she lifted her head and met my gaze.

God, why is she so tempting?

Does she even realize what she does to me?

The way she's looking at me now—she could make me do so many bad things she isn’t ready for... not yet.

Up close, I could see it all—the exhaustion weighing down her delicate frame, the way prison had dulled her brightness.

Three years of hell had stripped so much from her.

Yet in my eyes... she still looked like the most precious thing in the world.