The barn

Lucian

I drum my fingers against the polished surface of my desk, the steady rhythm doing little to settle the simmering irritation in my chest. Across from me, Nico drones on about shipment delays, but my attention is elsewhere.

Aurora.

My jaw tightens as I recall the scene from this morning—the way she stormed downstairs, wrapped in nothing but my robe, like she owned the place. Like she belonged. The sight of her, drowned in the heavy fabric, should have been comical, yet it was anything but. The open front had revealed just enough to send my patience hanging by a thread.

I had told myself it didn’t matter. That I had more important things to focus on.

But then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch a flash of color beyond the window.

I shift, turning my head just enough to see her.

And immediately, my fists clench.

Aurora has found another robe—if you could even call it that. The sheer fabric is as good as nothing, fluttering in the breeze as she lets it slip from her shoulders, revealing the kind of bikini that should be illegal.

The red fabric barely conceals anything. Sunlight glistens against her skin, outlining every curve in a way that makes my throat go dry.

A muscle ticks in my jaw.

What the hell does she think she’s doing?

A heavy silence settles in the room. I don’t have to look to know my men have noticed my reaction. I can feel their eyes on me, their nervous energy pressing against my skin like static before a storm. No one dares speak.

Nico clears his throat. “Boss?”

I shove back my chair. “I need to have a chat with my fiancée.”

The words taste sharp on my tongue.

I don’t wait for a response. I stride from the room, dismissing Gabriele with a flick of my chin. He practically flees.

By the time I step onto the patio, Aurora is stretched out on a lounger, completely at ease beneath the morning sun. A pair of oversized sunglasses rest on her nose, but I can tell she knows I’m here.

She tilts them down just enough to peer up at me.

“Enjoying the sun, principessa?” My voice is low, rough.

A slow smile tugs at her lips. She stretches, deliberately languid, her arms rising above her head in a way that only draws my eyes to places they shouldn’t be.

“I was,” she muses, voice thick with amusement. “Care to join me? There’s plenty of room.”

I step closer, casting my shadow over her sun-warmed skin. “You think this is funny?”

She raises a brow. “Something wrong, Lucian?”

The way she says my name—soft, taunting—sends heat licking down my spine.

“You promised not to touch me yet,” she reminds me, as if she can sense the way my restraint is slipping.

I lean down, bracing my hands on either side of her head, caging her in.

“I don’t think you want to test me, Aurora.” My lips brush the shell of her ear, my voice dropping to a whisper meant for her alone. “The only reason you’re not over my knee right now is because I haven’t decided if I’d rather punish you here… or somewhere more private.”

She shivers. It’s subtle, but I catch it. And damn if it doesn’t make me want to push her further.

Her lips part, but she doesn’t look away.

I smirk. “Get dressed.”

She sighs, reaching lazily for the discarded robe. “As you wish,” she murmurs, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

I watch as she rises, her movements fluid and effortless. The tiny flush staining her cheeks betrays her, though. She’s not unaffected.

Good.

I wait as she disappears inside, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Today, I need more.

By the time she returns, she’s wearing a flowery dress, the very picture of innocence. It’s a lie, of course. A carefully crafted illusion meant to taunt me further.

I don’t react.

Instead, I lead her to the garage, where her eyes widen at my collection of cars. She hesitates for a fraction of a second before sliding into the passenger seat of my black Porsche.

I slide in beside her, gripping the wheel.

The air between us crackles with unspoken tension.

She shifts, casting a sideways glance my way. “So,” she says lightly, “where are you taking me, Lucian?”

I don’t answer. Instead, I press my foot to the gas, sending the car roaring forward, the world blurring past us.

Let’s see how long she keeps up this game.

We pull up outside a nondescript barn on the outskirts of my property, far from any prying eyes or curious ears. The sun hangs low, casting long shadows over the cracked earth, the air thick with the scent of hay, rust, and something sharper—something metallic.

I kill the engine and sit for a moment, my fingers drumming lightly against the steering wheel. The silence stretches between us, weighted and expectant. Aurora stares straight ahead, her face unreadable, but I can feel the tension coiling in her.

She asked for this.

I step out first, the heavy afternoon air wrapping around me as I move toward her side of the car. When I open the door, she hesitates for only a breath before placing her palm in mine, her skin warm against my own. A flicker of electricity snaps up my arm and straight to my core.

She knows it.

Aurora says nothing as she follows me toward the barn, but I catch the way her shoulders tighten, the way her throat works around a swallow. She knows where we are.

I push open the doors, and the scent inside is thick—old wood, dust, and the unmistakable tang of blood. The interior is dim, the light filtering through the gaps in the walls casting fractured beams across the dirt floor. My eyes adjust quickly to the gloom, and I hear Aurora’s sharp inhale as she spots them.

Two figures hang from the rafters, wrists bound, their toes barely grazing the ground. Their bodies are battered, broken.

A slow, deliberate smirk tugs at the corner of my mouth as I watch her reaction.

Her father is the first to stir, his head lifting weakly. His face is an unrecognizable mess of bruises and lacerations, one eye swollen shut, the other glassy with pain. The man beside him—Aldo—fares no better, his once-sharp features now a pulpy ruin. They moan pitifully, struggling weakly against their bonds.

Aurora takes a slow step forward, her hands curling into fists at her sides. The look in her eyes is not horror. Not hesitation.

It is satisfaction.

“I’ll remind you now,” I murmur, stepping in close, my voice a whisper against her ear. “You said you wanted this.”

She doesn’t blink. “And I meant it.”

My chest tightens at her words, something dark and possessive unfurling inside me. This is the Aurora I’ve been waiting to see—the one who has been forged in the fires of suffering, who has emerged from the wreckage of her past harder, sharper. A queen in the making.

She tilts her head, considering the man who gave her life but spent years trying to break her. When she finally speaks, her voice is calm, almost amused.

“Oh, Papà. You don’t look so good.”

Paolo groans, his head lolling forward, bloody saliva dribbling from his split lips. Aldo merely glares, rage and defiance flickering in his swollen eyes.

Aurora tsks, reaching out to lift her father’s chin between two fingers. “Haven’t you missed me?” She pouts, mockingly. “Our fun little games?”

Aldo grunts, voice thick with pain. “Crazy fucking hag.”

Aurora moves before I do. The sharp crack of her palm against his face echoes through the barn. Aldo yelps, his head snapping to the side.

I exhale slowly, a smirk curling at the edge of my lips.

Oh, she’s really something.

Her father coughs, choking on his own blood. “Aurora, figlia… please…”

She ignores him, her attention still locked on Aldo. Her hand drops to the hem of her sundress, and in one slow, deliberate movement, she lifts it.

Fuck me.

I watch, heat curling low in my stomach, as she hooks her thumbs into the delicate lace at her hips and drags them down, stepping out of the fabric in one smooth motion.

Aldo’s glare falters.

Aurora’s lips curl. “Isn’t this what you wanted, Aldo?”

Before he can react, she grabs him by the jaw, prying his lips open. He struggles weakly, but he is nothing compared to her fury.

She stuffs the lace straight into his mouth.

Aldo chokes, sputtering, his eyes bulging. Aurora only watches, her expression serene as she forces the fabric deeper.

When she finally steps back, Aldo is gagging, retching, his face flushed red with the effort to breathe.

Aurora sighs dramatically, brushing nonexistent dust from her dress. “Silence is a better look on you, I suppose.”

I have to bite down on my knuckle to stop the laughter bubbling in my chest.

Fuck, she was right.

She’s just as psychotic as the best of us.

She turns then, facing me, her chin lifting in that perfect defiance that makes my blood run hot.

“I have to admit,” I murmur, stepping closer, “I’m impressed.”

Her lips twitch, but she says nothing.

I lift a brow. “Did you enjoy that, principessa?”

Aurora tilts her head, considering. Then, slowly, a sly smile spreads across her face. “More than I thought I would.”

A dark, satisfied chuckle rumbles in my throat.

Pride and lust swirl in my gut in equal measure as I move to the ropes, hoisting each broken man back up until they dangle again, like slabs of rotting meat.

Aurora leans against the car outside, her face tilted up to the fading sunlight, contentment smoothing the sharp edges of her expression.

As I step up beside her, bracing my hands against the frame, I lower my voice to a warning murmur.

“When the time comes, I’ll let you take the next pair off yourself.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes, but the way she bites her bottom lip tells me all I need to know.

We’ll be back.

And next time?

It will be even better.