Lucien’s POV
I DON’T take her to the penthouse. Not tonight.
After the gala, after the way her body trembled beneath my hands under the stars, I know if I drag her back into my world of glass and marble, I’ll lose more than just control. I’ll lose the thread of restraint I’ve been clinging to since the moment I first touched her.
So instead, I drive us deeper into the city. Past the towers and champagne streets, past the places where wolves wear silk and power drips like wine. Celina stares out the tinted window, suspicion glittering in her eyes, but she doesn’t ask. She never asks—she demands. And that, oddly, is why I keep giving.
When the car stops, she frowns. The building before us is quiet, almost forgotten. Iron gates climb with ivy, and the stone façade faded with age. She look
