Lucien Vale had always been a man of control. Precision. Ruthless clarity.
Until they touched her.
He stood in the darkened war room of his penthouse, lit only by the blue glow of a dozen screens—each flashing updates, headlines, and security footage. Zara sat silently beside him, the remains of their shared storm clinging to her skin.
But Lucien… he was not calm.
Not anymore.
"Find her," he growled into his phone, pacing like a caged beast. "Find the assistant. I want her brought in. I don't care how. I want names, dates, wire transfers. Pull every call log, every shred of data. You hear me?"
A pause.
Then: "If Damien touched her through someone else, if this is part of his play, I will burn him alive."
He hung up with a sharp flick of his wrist. The air in the room crackled with his fury.
Zara watched him from the chair, wrapped in one of his shirts, her hair damp from the shower they'd shared hours ago—brief solace before the world crept back in.
But now, Lucien was all fire. Controlled no longer.
"This was my mistake," he muttered, eyes wild. "I let him think you were a move on the board. I should've crushed him the moment he looked your way."
Zara stood, slowly, carefully. "Lucien…"
"No." He turned to her, voice tight with something too close to panic. "This isn't strategy anymore. This isn't about ValeCorp or the Foundation. He came for you. That crossed my line."
She tilted her head. "And what happens when someone crosses Lucien Vale's line?"
His jaw clenched. "They don't get a second chance."
She stepped closer. "You said we'd do this smart. Together."
His eyes found hers—and for the first time, she saw it clearly.
Not just fury.
Madness.
A madness shaped like her.
He cupped her face suddenly, desperately, like he needed to be sure she was real. "You don't understand, Zara. I can lose companies. I can rebuild power. But you? If they take you from me—I won't survive that."
She stilled, heart pounding.
It wasn't a threat.
It was a truth.
She whispered, "You think you love me, Lucien. But maybe it's just obsession."
His breath hitched, forehead pressing to hers. "You're not wrong."
His hands dropped to her waist, pulling her flush against him, grounding himself. "I didn't know what this was at first. I just knew I couldn't stay away. Then I wanted to own it, control it. But you—Zara—you're the only thing in my life I can't dominate."
Her voice trembled. "And what does that make me?"
He looked into her eyes. "My weakness. And my f*cking religion."
Zara felt the words like a brand against her chest. She couldn't move. Couldn't breathe. Because Lucien wasn't posturing. He wasn't manipulating.
He was unraveling.
She reached up, fingers threading into his hair. "Don't burn for me, Lucien."
"I already am."
He kissed her hard—rough and desperate—nothing like the reverence from before. It was a silent scream. A man losing the last piece of himself and handing it over to her willingly.
Their mouths clashed. Hands tugged. Clothes were forgotten.
He pinned her against the war room's glass wall, her breath fogging the pane behind her. His fingers gripped her thighs, his voice gravel as he muttered against her lips, "They want a scandal? Let them watch us set the city on fire."
Her moan was swallowed by his mouth.
He took her there—fast, hard, raw. Every thrust was a vow, every touch a claim. She wasn't just his obsession. She was his reckoning.
And somewhere between the gasps and cries, Zara felt it too—that terrible, beautiful need that only Lucien ignited.
She was his undoing.
But he might be hers too.
When it was over, they collapsed onto the leather couch, sweat-slicked and gasping. Zara lay on top of him, his arms locked around her like he didn't trust the world not to steal her away.
The silence was deafening.
Until Lucien whispered, "If I lose you, I'll become the very monster you warned me about."
Zara's breath caught. Her voice, when it came, was fragile. "Then don't lose me."
He looked up at her, something shattered in his eyes. "I don't know how to love without breaking everything around me."
"You're not breaking me," she said softly. "You're breaking open."
The words sank deep into both of them.
For a long time, they just held each other.
But Lucien was still Lucien. And the world was still waiting.
He stood finally, naked but unashamed, and stalked back to the monitors. Zara wrapped herself in a throw and followed him.
He tapped one screen—surveillance footage of Ethan's assistant handing a drive to a masked courier.
"She's the crack. We get her, we get the whole plan. Damien, Ethan, the media manipulation—it all falls."
Zara stared at the screen, then at him.
"You're going to make them bleed, aren't you?"
Lucien's smile was cold. "No. I'm going to make them beg."
And just like that, the war escalated.
Only this time, it wasn't about revenge.
It was about devotion.
A devotion that might save them—or destroy them both.