Chapter 7

Around men, I’ve built walls—higher, colder, sharper. Every smile feels suspicious, every word like bait with a hidden hook. I’ve learned the hard way that hearts don’t just break, they bleed. And I refuse to bleed so easily again.

Sometimes I wonder if my brain chemistry has been rewired forever because of that asshole Jacob.

The room suddenly feels suffocating. The truth is, I do want to see him—maybe even need to—but the thought makes my skin prickle with heat. Desire clashes with dread, leaving me burning, restless. I don’t want him to think I’m desperate, or that I’m begging for his attention.

My heart sinks as blood roars in my ears. I stare at the ceiling, silently pleading for air. Cold, crisp air. I sit up, dragging in a deep breath, my gaze locked on the glowing phone in my lap. My fingers hover over the screen, trembling. What do I say? Yes? No?

Mc: You don’t need to set something up so soon just to placate me.

I fling my phone onto the bed and press a hand to my chest, feeling my pulse hammering beneath my palm. It’s been less than a week since Lucien and I started talking, and already the thought of meeting him sits like a live wire under my skin. Am I ready for this?

On one hand, I ache to finally see him face-to-face, to unravel the enigma behind the words, the voice, the allure. On the other hand, the questions coil tighter and tighter. What if he’s not what I expect? What if it’s dangerous?

The contradiction is maddening—excitement bubbling just beneath my nerves, fear dragging me down just as quickly.

Mc: You have the right to decide your pace when speaking to someone.

I type it quickly, buying myself more time. I need this to move slowly. I need to be careful. Because once a door like this opens, there’s no telling what—or who—will walk through it.

Mc: Let’s see when you’re ready.

Lucien: Nobody influences my decisions, baby.

Lucien: I am more than ready to meet you.

Mc: I don’t think I’m ready myself.?

Lucien: Why is that, love?

Mc: It’s just… too soon.

Mc: Must it be tomorrow?

Lucien: Whatever day and time you want.

Lucien: Bear it in mind that I’m eager to meet you.

Lucien: We will never get to know each other deeply if we both don’t let the other get…

Lucien: A glimpse into our world. I want to see you. Feel you.

Lucien: Be near you.

Mc: I want to see you too.

Lucien: So then it’s decided.

Lucien: I’ll come pick you up tomorrow.

Lucien: I must warn you though, what you might learn and see about me may scare you. But I must show you either way.

Lucien: Are you ready to step foot into the dark? Into a whole new world, baby girl?

I toss my phone aside and bury myself under the duvet, seeking refuge in the comforting darkness as sleep gradually claims me.

I dreamt of Lucien. I never saw his face clearly, yet I knew it was him. Somehow, in that strange, unexplainable way dreams carry certainty, we found each other. We were deep in the bush, where shadows clung to the trees and the air was heavy with earth and silence. He drew close, his presence unmistakable, and when his lips brushed mine it felt too real, too deliberate, as though the dream itself had been stitched around that single kiss. And then—nothing. The dream collapsed, leaving me abruptly awake, my heart pounding, my skin still tingling with the ghost of his touch.

I blinked against the dark, disoriented, my chest aching in that strange way longing can hurt. I must have fallen asleep while chatting with him, thoughts of him trailing after me into unconsciousness. God, I thought, when did I become this woman—falling asleep mid-conversation, dreaming of kisses that don’t exist?

I was suddenly feeling disoriented. My heart felt too heavy, my body reluctant to rise, but anticipation and habit guided my hand to my phone. The screen lit up my face, confirming what I already suspected.

There it was. A message from him.

Lucien: Good morning, baby girl. I didn’t get a reply yesterday.

Lucien: I’ve been thinking of being with you all night.

Lucien: You’ve been on my mind. A constant thought.

Mc: Good morning. Sorry, I fell asleep.

Mc: You are making me blush. You know I want to see you too.

Lucien: I know. That’s why I sent a driver to you.

Mc: I thought you would be coming yourself?

Lucien: Something came up, I had to stay back.

Mc: That’s sad, I was really expecting you. What came up?

Lucien: I know you were. I’ll make it up to you.

Mc: Does it have to do with work?

Lucien: Yes it does.

Lucien: I’ll tell you about it when we meet.

Mc: How do you know where I stay?

Lucien: …

Mc: Let me guess, another thing to tell me when we meet, Lucien?

Lucien: See, now we are starting to have an understanding.

Mc: Not yet.

Mc: You had better make it up to me properly when I come.

Lucien: Hold your breath.

Lucien: I told the driver to wait for as long as you are ready. He will drop a package for you. Please put on the dress. It’s autumn—I want you looking like a blooming flower.

Mc: Yes, Daddy.

As soon as the message sends, a sharp knock echoes through my room, causing my heart to race erratically. I recognize that knock anywhere—it’s distinct, deliberate, and not from any driver.

Why the hell is Jacob here?!

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