Gentle

Aurora & Lucian

I blink at him slowly, absorbing his manner—the quiet, merciless finality that leaves no room for argument.

“Well, in that case, I won’t let you anywhere near me.”

The words leave my lips in a rush, more defiant than I feel. Before I can fully process the weight of my declaration, I push back my chair. The force sends it clattering against the stone patio behind me, but I barely hear it over the rush of my own pulse. I just need to get away, to put some distance between myself and the man whose presence feels like both a cage and a storm.

But I make it three steps before his fingers wrap around my wrist.

The world tilts as Lucian spins me around with an ease that mocks my resistance, shoving me back until my spine meets the cool glass of the kitchen doors. My breath hitches, heart hammering against my ribs as he steps into my space, his glacial eyes trapping me in place. One hand rises to my jaw, firm but not cruel, forcing me to meet his gaze.

“I wasn’t offering it up for debate, piccina.” His voice is steady, resolute.

I swallow hard, my pride warring with the undeniable truth that his control over this moment is absolute.

“I’m not ready to be a mother,” I murmur, the confession barely audible. Shame prickles at my skin. I’ve never felt more foolish, more exposed.

Lucian’s expression doesn’t change, but something flickers in his gaze. “Don’t be an idiot, Aurora.” His thumb brushes against my cheek, an intimate contradiction to the cold authority in his tone. “You need me more than I need you.”

My stomach twists. “Or what?” I whisper. “You’ll string me up beside my papà? Throw me out on the street just because I won’t let you knock me up right away?” My voice rises, hysteria curling at the edges. “After giving my whole life to you?”

His jaw tightens, but he doesn’t retreat. Instead, his forehead lowers until it rests lightly against mine. His breath is warm against my lips, and despite everything, my body reacts—my breaths come shallower, my skin tingling from proximity alone.

“I don’t want to hurt you, principessa.” The words are spoken so softly I barely catch them. “But I do want to possess you. Body and soul. Like no man ever has.”

My heart clenches.

Lucian exhales, his hands shifting, one wrapping around my waist, the other cradling my face in a gesture that almost feels tender. Almost.

Then he murmurs, “And then I want to fill you until you’re swollen with my child. With our child. The next in my line.”

My blood runs cold.

His meaning is clear. This isn’t just a claim. It’s a vow.

Lucian steps back without another word, leaving behind only the imprint of his touch and the weight of everything he just said.

A shaky breath escapes me as I watch him disappear through the doorway, my mind a tangled mess of rage, confusion, and something dangerously close to fear.

I don’t move for a long time.

---

The next morning, I wake to a flurry of noise outside my door. A muffled chorus of voices, the rustle of paper, the shuffling of hurried footsteps.

Frowning, I throw on a robe and move toward the hallway.

What I find stuns me.

A parade of staff weaves in and out of my room, carrying an endless array of shopping bags and garment boxes. Some struggle under the weight, their arms overloaded with silks and lace, while others seem eager to finish their task as quickly as possible.

Chiara, ever the vigilant presence in this house, steps into view, her weathered face splitting into a knowing grin.

“Ah, you’re up!” She claps her hands together, surveying the scene with amusement. “Lucian sent me to help organize. We’re updating your wardrobe.”

I freeze. My gaze sweeps over the lavish packages now filling my space, the sheer extravagance of it all making my stomach turn.

Is this his way of marking his territory?

Disgust coils inside me. I step forward, reaching for one of the delicate gowns spilling from an open box. It’s stunning, no doubt tailored to fit me perfectly. But none of it is mine. None of it was chosen by me.

“Is this supposed to be some kind of gift?” I ask, voice tight. “Or just another way of controlling me?”

Lucian’s voice cuts through the room like a blade. “I just gave your sizes to a personal shopper, Aurora. I thought you’d like better options than my sister’s old t-shirts.”

I whirl around, finding him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. His gaze rakes over me in a way that sends heat crawling up my spine.

I fold my arms over my chest, glaring. “And I suppose I should be grateful?”

He exhales, irritation flickering across his features. Then, without breaking eye contact, he turns to the staff and issues a single command.

“Everyone else—clear this room. Take everything back.”

A collective pause follows. Some of the staff exchange nervous glances, unsure if he’s serious.

His voice sharpens. “Now.”

Within seconds, the flurry resumes, but in reverse—garments are swiftly repacked, bags lifted, boxes carried out one by one. The air shifts, thick with unsaid words.

Lucian watches me, waiting.

I lift my chin, defiance burning in my chest. “I didn’t say I didn’t want new clothes. I just don’t want you picking them for me.”

A smirk tugs at his lips. “Go ahead, piccina. Pick something yourself.”

The challenge in his voice is unmistakable.

Fine. If he wants to play games, I’ll play.

Thirty minutes later, I stand before my full-length mirror, admiring my reflection with smug satisfaction. The tiniest bikini I could find clings to my body, leaving little to the imagination. Over it, I drape a sheer, see-through beach robe, the fabric whispering over my skin as I move.

I toss my hair over one shoulder, slip on oversized sunglasses, and stride confidently toward the door.

The moment I fling it open, I come face-to-face with a gaping Gabriele.

Lucian’s right-hand man blinks at me, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

I arch a brow. “Something wrong?”

His throat bobs. “Lucian… requested that you leave the room today.” He clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “He also assigned me to accompany you wherever you go.”

I scoff. Of course he did.

“Tell him I’ll be outside,” I say airily, stepping past Gabriele with deliberate ease.

“Oh,” I add, just before disappearing down the hallway. “And tell him I’ll be picking my own damn wardrobe from now on.”

I don’t wait for a response.

If Lucian thinks he can control me, he has another thing coming.