CH 10

HIS POV — PENTHOUSE

I leaned against the balcony railing, the cold evening air doing little to cool the fire burning in my chest.

She had no idea what she was playing with.

No idea how close she was to stepping into something she wouldn’t be able to handle.

Eleanor.

Even her name grated on my nerves.

The sound of the penthouse door opening pulled me from my thoughts. I didn’t turn around—I didn’t need to. Her presence was obvious, the quiet shuffle of her heels against the floor, the slight hesitation in her steps before she finally spoke.

"You asked me to come."

I exhaled slowly, still facing the city. "And you came."

"Did I have a choice?" she muttered, irritation lacing her voice.

I smirked, but it was bitter. "You always have a choice, Eleanor. You just keep making the wrong ones."

Silence.

I finally turned, my gaze locking onto her. She stood near the door, arms crossed, chin lifted like she was ready for battle. Like she was waiting for me to attack first.

"Are we going to talk about what happened earlier?" she asked.

I tilted my head. "Which part? The part where you overstepped? Or the part where you pretended it didn’t matter?"

Her jaw tightened. "I didn’t pretend anything, Lucian. I just—"

"You just what?" I took a step closer, my voice sharp. "Thought you could pry into things that don’t concern you? Thought you could throw my past in my face like it was your place?"

She swallowed but didn’t look away. "I wasn’t trying to hurt you."

I let out a short, humorless laugh. "Hurt me? You think you have that kind of power?"

Something flickered in her eyes—hurt, maybe, or frustration. I didn’t care.

"You don’t," I said coldly. "So don’t fool yourself."

She exhaled, shaking her head. "You can push me away all you want, Lucian, but I’m not going anywhere."

I scoffed. "You’re so sure of that?"

"Yes," she said, stepping closer. "Because you can hate me all you want, but I’m still here. And whether you like it or not, our lives are tied together now."

I stared at her, my pulse thrumming in my ears.

Eleanor had always been stubborn. Always been infuriatingly relentless.

And right now, standing there, challenging me with those damn eyes—I hated her for it.

"Then maybe it’s time you start regretting that," I muttered.

_____________________________

I walked away from her, each step deliberate, controlled. I needed distance—needed space to breathe before I said something I couldn’t take back.

But she didn’t let me go that easily.

"That’s it?" Eleanor called after me, her voice laced with frustration. "You just shut down and walk away every time something gets too real?"

I stopped. My fingers curled into fists at my sides.

"You think this is about me shutting down?" I turned, my voice dangerously low. "No, Eleanor. This is about you not knowing when to stop."

She threw up her hands. "Because I refuse to tiptoe around you like everyone else? Because I dare to talk about the things that clearly affect you?"

I let out a slow, humorless laugh. "Clearly affect me?" I echoed. "You think my past is up for discussion just because you happen to be here now? Just because you were forced into my life?"

Her eyes darkened at my words, but I didn’t stop.

"You think you can waltz in, poke at my wounds, and expect me to sit there and take it?" I stepped closer, my voice razor-sharp. "You don’t get that privilege, Eleanor."

She exhaled, her expression torn between anger and something else—something I didn’t want to name. "I never said I wanted to hurt you, Lucian."

"But you did," I said flatly. "And the worst part? You don’t even realize how deep your words can cut."

Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.

Eleanor swallowed, her posture stiff, but she didn’t break eye contact. "I just… I just want to understand you."

A bitter smirk tugged at my lips. "Understand me? You can’t, Eleanor. You won’t. Because no matter how hard you try, you’ll never know what it’s like to be left behind."

Her breath hitched—just barely, but I caught it.

Good. Let her feel it. Let her know what it’s like to have something ripped away and be expected to keep standing.

I turned away again, but her voice stopped me.

"She didn’t deserve you," Eleanor said quietly.

I froze.

For a second, the world tilted.

I turned my head just enough to look at her over my shoulder. "What?"

Eleanor took a breath, as if steadying herself. "Your first wife. She left, Lucian. She made that choice. And no matter what happened, that wasn’t your fault."

I exhaled sharply, shutting my emotions off like flipping a switch. Enough of this.

"You’re overstepping," I said flatly, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Eleanor frowned, her arms crossing. "Excuse me?"

I leaned back in my chair, my expression unreadable. "You’ve been crossing boundaries since the day you stepped into this office. It's time we establish some rules."

She scoffed, shaking her head. "Rules? Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I’m joking?" My tone was cold, businesslike—exactly the way it should be. "You work for me. Nothing more, nothing less. So from now on, no personal questions, no unsolicited opinions, and no pushing into matters that don’t concern you."

Eleanor’s lips pressed into a thin line, but she said nothing.

I continued, my voice firm. "During working hours, you do your job and nothing else. You keep your thoughts to yourself, and you don’t test my patience." I narrowed my eyes. "Understood?"

She let out a slow breath, looking at me as if debating whether to argue. But in the end, she just gave a small, mocking smile. "Crystal clear, boss."

Good. That’s how it should be.

"Anything else?" she asked, tilting her head. "Or is that all for today’s lesson on how to be as emotionally constipated as possible?"

I shot her a warning look, but she only smirked before turning toward the door.

"Glad we had this talk," she said over her shoulder. "Really productive."

Eleanor’s smirk didn’t last long. Her expression shifted as she turned back to me, arms crossing over her chest.

"Wait a damn minute," she said, narrowing her eyes. "You called me here to your penthouse just for this?"

I stared at her, unbothered. "Yes."

Her jaw dropped slightly before she scoffed, letting out a humorless laugh. "Are you serious, Lucian? You could’ve texted me. Hell, you could’ve just sent an email with your precious ‘rules.’" She gestured wildly, her frustration evident.

I kept my voice calm. "This needed to be said in person."

She let out a breath, shaking her head. "Unbelievable."

"If you’re done complaining, you can leave," I said smoothly, turning back to my laptop.

But Eleanor wasn’t done. Of course, she wasn’t.

"Oh, I’m sorry," she said sarcastically. "I didn’t realize I was dealing with a man who enjoys wasting both our time. If you were so eager to put distance between us, why the hell did you drag me here at this hour?"

I closed my laptop with a sharp click, my patience thinning. "Because you don’t listen, Eleanor. You push, you prod, you test limits that aren’t meant to be crossed." My voice dropped lower. "I needed to make sure you understood."

She met my gaze, defiant as ever. "Oh, I understand just fine. You don’t like me. You don’t want me here. You’d rather pretend I don’t exist—except when it’s convenient for you to bark orders." She stepped closer, her eyes burning with something I couldn’t quite name. "But guess what, Lucian? I’m not going anywhere."

My fingers curled into a fist on the desk. "That’s not your decision to make."

She tilted her head, her lips curling slightly. "Isn’t it?"

I didn’t respond.

Because we both knew the answer.

She was here because of them—our parents, their expectations, their ridiculous desire to tie us together like some business transaction. And no matter how much I wanted her gone, she wasn’t going to walk away.

Eleanor must have seen the flicker of realization in my eyes because her smirk deepened. "Thought so."

I let out a slow exhale, reigning in my temper. "Then at least learn your place."

She rolled her eyes. "Oh, don’t worry. I know my place, Lucian. It’s right here—annoying the hell out of you."

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