Ariella's first day of "training" started with silence — and ended in fire.
Lucien had her up by seven. No breakfast. No small talk. Just a wardrobe full of designer outfits and an itinerary of back-to-back appointments: etiquette, posture, public speaking, media presence.
She wasn't being groomed.
She was being polished — like a diamond he intended to show off.
By the time they returned to the penthouse that evening, she was exhausted — mentally, physically, emotionally. But Lucien? He looked as composed as ever, unbothered, untouched.
Ariella stood in his office, still wearing the silk blouse one of his stylists had insisted on. Her hair was up, her heels tight. She'd played his game all day.
But now?
Now, she was done.
"I'm not some pet you can parade in front of your business partners," she said sharply, arms crossed.
Lucien didn't look up from the tablet in his hand. "You did well. Especially with the posture coach. You almost looked like you belonged."
Her fists clenched. "I'm not your puppet, Lucien."
Finally, he glanced at her. "No. But you're under contract. And you'll do what I say."
She took a step forward. "And what exactly do you want from me? A trophy? A silent doll? Or something you can bend when the lights go off?"
He stood now, slowly, eyes narrowing.
"Careful," he said, voice cold.
She laughed bitterly. "Or what? You'll punish me? Lock me in some designer cage again? Newsflash, Kane — your money doesn't scare me. You don't scare me."
In one sudden movement, Lucien closed the distance between them. His hands gripped her arms, not hard enough to hurt — but hard enough to show her he could.
"You should be scared," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Because I'm starting to want you."
Her breath caught.
"And when I want something," he continued, "I don't ask for it. I take it."
His mouth crashed down on hers before she could speak.
It wasn't gentle. It wasn't romantic.
It was a kiss meant to claim, to punish, to prove a point.
And the worst part?
She kissed him back.
Only for a second — but it was long enough to feel the way his lips softened when she did. Long enough to feel the burn ignite in her stomach. Long enough to know she hated him, but not enough.
When he pulled away, both of them were breathing heavily.
Her fingers were trembling.
Lucien stared at her like he was surprised. Not just by her reaction — but by his own.
Then he stepped back, adjusting his cufflink like nothing happened.
"Go to bed," he said quietly. "You'll need energy tomorrow."
And just like that, he walked away — leaving her with swollen lips, a racing heart, and a terrifying thought.
She wasn't scared of Lucien Kane anymore.
She was scared of what he was starting to make her feel.