Scarlett
“Breathe, Scarlett.”
It was the tenth time I’d repeated it in my mind.
His voice was low and calm, almost a warning, and it sent a chill down my spine.
No. Something was off.
And God help me—I liked it.
I opened my mouth—but nothing came out. My throat closed up, betraying me. I hated that part of me that wanted to see what he would do next. Hated the electric, crushing curiosity churning inside me.
Then came the anger—swift, burning, dizzying. Who the hell did he think he was?
“Stop the car!” I barked.
Lucien didn’t. The bastard just looked at me like I was some jagged puzzle piece. Like he could read me.
We were far from the city, with no help in sight. Who would dare intervene?
“Lucien. Stop. The. Car.”
His mouth twitched—mocking. Then he s
