The Obsession Begins
Lucien sat in the dark, the scotch in his glass untouched, his mind spinning like a storm trapped in a bottle.
She’d walked out of his study like a queen—not a maid. Not a possession.
And worst of all…
She’d left him wanting.
He didn’t like that.
No one made Lucien Ward feel.
Not anger.
Not confusion.
Not desire.
Desire was a weakness. A flaw.
And yet…
Her voice haunted him.
“You don’t own me yet.”
The word yet clawed at his skin like nails.
He slammed the glass against the table, the crystal shattering—but it didn’t satisfy him.
Because for the first time… he didn’t understand something.
Someone.
Her.
He tapped a finger on the desk, eyes narrowed, jaw clenched.
There were cameras in every hallway. Every room.
Except one.
Hers.
He didn’t like blind spots.
Lucien stood, storming through the halls of his own mansion like a shadow hunting fire.
When he reached her door, he didn’t knock.
He never knocked.
He pushed it open.
And found her asleep.
Curled under pale sheets. Lips slightly parted. Hair splayed across the pillow like ink in water.
So innocent.
So not what she truly was.
Lucien stepped closer, gaze locked on her face.
Then, slowly, he reached out—just a fingertip brushing her cheek.
No command. No power. Just… touch.
And for a terrifying second…
He didn’t want to control her.
He just wanted to feel her.
Aria’s eyes opened.
Slow. Silent.
And directly into his.
Lucien didn’t flinch.
But his hand was still on her cheek—caught between a predator and something he couldn’t define.
“Can’t sleep, Master?”
Her voice was calm. Velvet laced with venom.
He didn’t move his hand. Didn’t blink.
Just watched her like she was an equation he hadn’t solved.
“How long have you been awake?” he asked.
She smiled. “Long enough to feel you watching.”
The silence thickened.
Lucien’s thumb slid down her cheek… to her lips.
She didn’t stop him.
Didn’t shy away.
But there was something mocking in her stillness—like she was letting him touch her.
Like she was allowing it.
And that made him burn.
He leaned down, his lips a breath from hers. “You like playing games, don’t you?”
Her lashes fluttered once. Slowly.
“Only when I’ve already won.”
Lucien froze.
There it was again—that arrogance disguised as sweetness.
He grabbed her wrist—not rough, but firm. Dominating.
He expected fear.
Instead…
“You’re touching me again,” she whispered.
He didn’t let go.
“And you’re not stopping me.”
Their eyes clashed in the dim light—power against power.
Lucien leaned closer, his breath hot against her ear.
“Next time, you won’t be able to walk out.”
Aria smiled in the dark.
“Then maybe I’ll make you beg me to stay.”
Morning dripped into the mansion like golden poison.
Lucien sat at the head of the long dining table, suit crisp, coffee untouched.
The staff moved like ghosts—silent, efficient, afraid.
Except for her.
Aria walked in barefoot.
Wearing a dress that wasn’t part of the uniform.
His shirt.
It hung loose over her frame, brushing the top of her thighs. Like a mark.
A challenge.
Lucien’s jaw flexed. Hard.
She didn’t bow. Didn’t greet. She simply took the seat beside him—uninvited.
“You’re in my chair,” he said coldly.
Aria poured herself a cup of coffee. Took a sip. Smiled.
“Am I?”
The butler paused, unsure whether to intervene.
Lucien waved him away with a flick of his fingers, eyes locked on the girl who was ruining his rhythm.
“There are rules here.”
Aria leaned back, her legs crossing slowly under the table.
“Then rewrite them.”
His patience cracked—just slightly. Enough to make his fingers curl into fists.
“You think this is a game?”
“No,” she said, gaze steady. “But I think you’re losing.”
Lucien stood so fast the chair scraped back violently.
Aria didn’t flinch.
He leaned over, both hands on the table, trapping her in the force of his presence.
“Careful, Aria,” he whispered, voice lethal. “You’re stepping into fire.”
She tilted her head.
“Then burn me.”
For a second—just one—Lucien forgot how to breathe.
And that terrified him.
Lucien sat in his study, files open, screens glowing, and yet… none of it made sense.
Aria Vale.
Age: 21.
No criminal record.
No family.
No trace.
Too clean. Too perfect.
Too wrong.
He clenched his jaw as the security footage played again—her walking through the hallways like she belonged. Like the house knew her.
“She’s not a maid,” he muttered.
He hit a key, freezing the footage on her face. That calm smile. That stare that peeled layers off him without mercy.
Lucien leaned back, fingers steepled.
She had no idea what he could do. Or maybe… she did.
He turned toward the locked drawer at the bottom of his desk.
Inside, something old. Forbidden.
The records from Project Siren—the secret program that studied people like him. People who could bend minds. Twist thoughts.
There had been rumors…
Of another kind.
Not touch-based like him, but slower. Subtler.
Whispers in the dark.
Lucien opened the file. A photo slipped out.
A girl. Twelve years old.
Eyes just like Aria’s.
He froze.
No.
That couldn’t be her.
She’d be—
His heart slowed as realization clicked.
She’d been trained.
Just like him.
But why here? Why now?
What did she want?
Lucien stood, mind racing.
He wasn’t being haunted.
He was being hunted.
Lucien stormed down the halls, the weight of the file in his hands too heavy to ignore.
His thoughts were a whirlwind of questions. Of doubts. The game had changed.
Aria was no longer just a pawn. She was a threat.
When he reached her door, he didn’t knock. He didn’t need to.
He swung it open.
And there she was.
Sitting on the bed.
Calm. Collected. Like she’d been waiting.
“You’ve been snooping,” she said without looking up.
His breath hitched.
“You knew.”
It wasn’t a question.
Aria didn’t answer. Instead, she slid off the bed, walking toward him with a grace that made his pulse stutter.
“I know everything, Lucien.”
He couldn’t breathe. Not for a second.
“Why?” His voice cracked slightly. "What do you want from me?"
Aria smiled, her lips curling into something far darker than he had ever seen before.
“You’ve already given it to me.”
Her hand slid out, slow and deliberate, brushing against his chest. The simple touch sent a jolt through him. Not of power—but of something deeper.
“You want to own me,” she whispered, her face inches from his. “But you’re already mine.”
Lucien’s chest tightened. He couldn’t push her away. Couldn’t.
Her eyes held him. “I know your secret, Lucien. And now… you’ll learn mine.”
And then, for the first time since they met, she kissed him.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t sweet. It was a claim—a trap.
Lucien stood there, frozen in the heat of it.
But when she pulled away, it was only to whisper, “You’ll never escape me.”
Lucien didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know what to feel.
All he knew was that for the first time in his life, he was the one being controlled.