~Aria's POV~
The first thing I felt was that sharp and intense pain.
It wasn't the dull kind that comes with waking up from a very long sleep, instead, this one was fiercely sharp and somewhat painful. The feeling of a blade cutting between my ribs, the ironic taste of blood seeping through my mouth and the cold touch of the surgical table beneath my naked skin.
"So, you really thought I was on your side?"
Lydia's voice continued to sound in my head filled with extreme contempt.
"How pathetic."
My eyes snapped open as I stared upward directly at the white ceiling above me, then my gaze suddenly moved abruptly to the duvet on my body as I took in the faint scent of sandalwood and expensive leather that was unmistakably his.
I instantly jerked up, my heart beating so fast as I instantly turned towards the window.
Lucien Blackwood sat there, his body stunningly lit by morning sun, looking like a model that stepped out of a magazine spread. His body was elegantly adorned by the tailored charcoal suit that probably cost more than most people's yearly salary and a crisp white shirt with his dark hair perfectly styled. Even after what must have been an all-night vigil, he was still… flawless.
He was watching me with the stillness of a predator, beautiful and dangerous in equal measure.
Those steel-grey eyes held no warmth, just endless, patient vigilance. One hand rested on his temples while the other held a crystal glass of whiskey.
Geez, he was so beautiful, devastatingly, unfairly beautiful in a way that made my chest ache.
How had I spent five months looking at this man and seeing only a captor? How had I been so blind?
"You're awake," he said, his voice low and smooth.
I looked down at my wrists and I gasped in shock when I saw fresh bandages with spots of red seeping through it.
Then, almost immediately, the memories of last night crashed over me like a tidal wave. The memories of the bathroom, the cold press of the razor blade against my skin as I remembered my own voice, shrill and desperate, "I'd rather die than stay in this cage with you! Let me go, Lucien! Let me go or I swear I'll do it!"
I'd meant it as a threat, the final card I could play. I'd tried everything else over the past five months, crying, pleading, raging, destroying his priceless antiques, calling the police, even trying to seduce him into lowering his guard but nothing had worked.
Lucien never reacted, he never shouted, never showed anger or hurt or frustration.
He just... endured with that maddening calm that made me want to scream.
So last night, I'd escalated, I'd locked myself in the bathroom, found his razor, and pressed it to my wrist. Though it wasn't deep enough to actually die, of course, I wasn't that stupid but it was actually enough for me to bleed, enough to scare him, enough to finally break that iron control.
And surprisingly, it had worked.
I remembered the door shattering, the way Lucien had appeared in the doorway like an avenging angel, his usual composure cracked just enough for me to see something raw and terrified flash across his perfect features just for about three seconds. Then the mask had slammed back into place, and he'd simply lifted me effortlessly, like I weighed nothing and carried me to the bed. His movements had been fluid, controlled, almost graceful despite the blood on his hands… my blood.
He'd bandaged my wrists with steady, methodical precision, like he was performing a surgery, like this was just another problem to solve in his perfectly ordered wealthy life.
Then he had sat in that chair and apparently stayed there all night.
But mixed with those memories were others, ones that shouldn't exist yet. Memories of dying on a surgical table seven months from now, of Ethan's cold smile, of Lydia's satisfied eyes, of the moment before death when I'd remembered everything and realized I'd spent my last months destroying the only person who'd ever truly loved me.
"What day is it?" I asked, my voice rough.
"August 20th." He took a slow sip of the whiskey as I watched his Adam's apple move in his throat. Even that simple movement was graceful. "Five months since you woke up with no memory, five months since you started trying to escape from me."
There was no emotion in his voice, just facts stated calmly.
But I saw the tension in his shoulders, the tight line of his jaw. The way his fingers gripped the glass just a fraction too hard.
"Lucien…"
"Get up," he interrupted, setting down the glass with precise control. "Breakfast is ready, you need to eat." He said without leaving any room for choices.
He moved toward the door with that predatory grace, then paused without looking back.
"Don't try the windows, they're reinforced and alarmed. Don't try the service entrance, my security team is stationed there. Don't even try to call anyone, your phone is monitored." His voice was soft, almost gentle. "And don't try to hurt yourself again, because if you do, I'll have a medical team here 24/7. You won't have a moment alone. Is that clear?"
I should have felt threatened or angry at being treated like a prisoner but instead, all I felt was guilt.
Because he wasn't being cruel, he was just exhausted from five months of my escape attempts.
"Clear," I whispered.
He left without another word.
I got up on shaky legs as I gazed at my reflection in the mirror. I was so pale and hollow-eyed, the bandages on my wrists was stark white against my skin.
“This guy has such a bad taste. I won't even marry myself like this.“ I said as I shook my head in self-pity.
~~~
When I made my way downstairs fifteen minutes later, I found Lucien in the dining room.
Category
Dark
Set up
