Chapter 985

The first time Lucian laid eyes on Rosalind swaying to the music at The Velvet Lounge, every instinct screamed danger. This woman wanted something from him—he could see it in the way her hips moved, the way her gaze lingered just a second too long.

He kept her close for one reason only: the whispers calling her "Arabella 2.0." He needed to see Arabella's reaction when faced with her mirror image—a calculated replacement with sharp smiles and sharper intentions.

Would Arabella burn with jealousy?

Would she still care?

He didn't give a damn about opinions. He needed proof.

And tonight, he got it.

Since Isabella had draped herself over his arm, Arabella had been unraveling—distracted, reckless, utterly unlike herself.

She was jealous.

She still cared.

Arabella's glare could have melted steel. "You're different now. This isn't you."

Lucian seized her wrist, pinning her to the silk sheets. "If I changed, it was for you."

"For me?"

"To become someone you couldn't resist."

Her breath hitched. "You said we were finished."

His grip tightened. "That's your call, not mine. We're only over when you say so. Understood?"

The power was hers.

Arabella answered by crashing her lips against his, swallowing his groan. Lucian froze for half a heartbeat before taking control, kissing her like a man starved. She tangled her fingers in his hair, matching his desperation.

Then he tore away.

Her lips throbbed. "Problem?"

His voice was gravel. "Are you sure about this?"

A smirk. "About what?"

"You know damn well."

She laughed low. "Spell it out."

Lucian growled. "I want you. Now."

God, she loved this—watching the unshakable CEO of Quantum Innovations beg. In one fluid motion, she flipped their positions, straddling him.

His eyebrows shot up. "What—"

"Taking what's mine."

Her mouth trailed fire down his throat, lower, lower—

Lucian's back arched. They'd known each other's bodies since university, every rhythm perfected. But this version of Arabella—bold, demanding, intoxicating—destroyed him.

Much later, Arabella stood at the marble sink, rinsing her mouth. Lucian's arms circled her waist, lips brushing her damp hair. "Still alive?"

She caught his gaze in the mirror. "Asking now seems pointless."

When he leaned in, she dodged, fisting his tie instead. She dragged him back to bed and shoved him down.

"Still got stamina, Mr. Graves?"

His eyes darkened. "Try me."

Arabella nipped his jaw. "My turn."

The kiss was a claiming. Lucian hauled her closer, hands branding her hips. "Your wish, my command."

Time dissolved. Arabella drowned in sensation—a ship lost in a storm, cresting wave after wave until the final, shattering plunge.