Chapter 8: The Price of Freedom
Elara stood in front of the large canvas in the studio Lucien had given her, her paintbrush hovering just above the surface. The studio was her only sanctuary, a room where she could forget about the cold, calculating world outside. The soft hum of the city below was a distant sound, and for the first time since entering the penthouse, she felt some semblance of peace.
Her fingers dipped the brush into deep crimson and began to work, her strokes slow and deliberate. Painting always calmed her, even if the emotions she poured onto the canvas were raw and unrefined. She had to release them, had to give them shape, before they swallowed her whole.
But as the brush moved, her mind kept drifting back to Lucien.
What was he really after? Why had he chosen her for this contract, this marriage? Was it purely business, or was there something more?
She shook her head, focusing on the red streaks that were beginning to form on the canvas. The deep, blood-like color seemed to speak to her. It was the color of her frustration, her desire to break free from the gilded cage she'd been placed in.
A knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.
"Elara?"
Lucien's voice. Cold, impassive, as usual.
She set the brush down and wiped her hands on a cloth before walking over to the door. She opened it, meeting his gaze without a word.
He stood in the doorway, his usual sharp suit replaced by something more casual—dark jeans and a black shirt. His hair was slightly tousled, and his expression was unreadable, as always.
"I need you to come with me," he said, his voice firm.
She crossed her arms. "Where?"
"A meeting with the board. We need to finalize some details on the upcoming merger."
Elara raised an eyebrow. "You can handle that yourself. You don't need me."
Lucien stepped forward, his presence filling the space. "I need you to attend. It's part of the image we're building. The public needs to see us as a united front. The board needs to see it, too."
Elara stared at him, the words he had spoken at the gala echoing in her mind. We play our parts. We don't let anyone see the cracks. But she was starting to see them, whether he liked it or not.
She nodded reluctantly. "Fine. I'll go."
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The Meeting Room
The boardroom was sleek, modern, and intimidating, much like everything else Lucien touched. The long, polished table gleamed under the overhead lights, and the glass walls provided an unobstructed view of the city's skyline. Elara took her seat beside Lucien, her fingers nervously tapping on the table.
The room was filled with the usual suspects—investors, company executives, and a few journalists who were there to capture every moment for the public eye. Elara felt like she was on display, a perfect accessory to Lucien's empire.
But as she glanced around the room, she realized something: she wasn't just a figurehead. She was a player in this game, whether she wanted to be or not.
Lucien began to speak, his voice commanding and confident as he outlined the merger details. He wasn't just presenting numbers and projections; he was weaving a story, crafting an image of a power couple destined to lead Blackwood Enterprises to new heights.
Elara sat there, her mind wandering as he spoke. It was all an act, wasn't it? An elaborate façade. But the longer she stayed in this world, the harder it became to distinguish between the lies and the truths.
And then, in the middle of the presentation, something shifted. Lucien's hand brushed against hers again, the touch lingering this time, almost as if it was deliberate. She turned to him, but his eyes were on the room, his focus entirely on the meeting.
Her breath caught in her throat. What was this? A sign of affection? A calculated move?
She couldn't tell.
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After the Meeting
When the meeting ended, Elara followed Lucien back to the penthouse, her mind still reeling from the brief moment of contact. The elevator ride was tense, neither of them speaking. When the doors opened, Lucien stepped out first, heading toward his office without a word to her.
Elara stood at the door, watching him. The weight of the day hung on her shoulders, and the last few days with Lucien had only made everything more complicated.
"Lucien," she called, her voice firm.
He stopped and turned, his eyes locking onto hers.
"Why did you choose me?" she asked, her words softer than she intended.
He didn't answer immediately. For a moment, he just looked at her, as though weighing his response. Then, in a voice that was barely above a whisper, he said, "Because you were the only one who didn't play the game the way everyone else does."
Elara's heart skipped a beat. "What do you mean?"
Lucien stepped closer, his gaze intense. "Everyone else in my world is looking for something—power, money, fame. But you… you didn't want any of that. You wanted freedom."
Her breath hitched. "And you think this marriage is freedom?"
"No," he said, his tone colder now. "But I think it's the closest we can both get."
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Later That Night
Elara sat on the balcony, her legs tucked beneath her, the city sprawling below her like a living organism. She had always found solace in the quiet of the night, when the world felt distant and calm.
Lucien joined her, leaning against the railing, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp.
"Don't overthink it," he said again, his voice almost gentle.
"I'm not," she replied, her gaze still fixed on the horizon. "I'm just wondering when it will all fall apart."
Lucien's gaze softened, but only for a fraction of a second. "It won't. Not unless you let it."
Elara turned to him. "And you? What happens when you can't control everything?"
For a moment, Lucien didn't respond. Then, in the darkness, he said, "I'll lose everything. And I'm not ready for that."
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