Chapter 9 I‘’ll Make My Move

Lucien stared at the glass in his hand, blinking back to reality. He followed Evan's pointed glare toward Elena and understood the assignment immediately.

He didn't move. His thick lashes lowered, his thumb slowly tracing the frosted pattern on the crystal.

Evan leaned in, whispering urgently over the heavy bass of the club. "Lucien. This is your moment. Don't waste it."

"It's not what you think," Lucien murmured, his voice infuriatingly even. "I spoke offhandedly. Nothing more."

"Really?" Evan's eyes gleamed with pure mischief. "Then why did your ears turn red the second you locked eyes with Miss Little Rainbow?"

Evan had dated half the city. He knew exactly what a man looked like when he had just been hit by a freight train. If Lucien wasn't interested in Elena, Evan would livestream himself eating dirt.

Lucien went entirely still. My ears... turned red?

"Fine," Evan pressed, catching the micro-expression of shock. "Tell me. What did you feel when you looked at her?"

Feel.

Lucien lifted the glass, taking a slow sip. In that single, shattered second of eye contact, his heartbeat had misfired. His mind had completely flatlined. Under her dark, unflinching gaze, something violent and unfamiliar had clawed at his chest.

"Nothing," Lucien said calmly.

Evan narrowed his eyes. "You're sure?"

"Positive." The answer was firmer this time.

Evan nodded slowly. "Alright then." He set his jaw. "If that's the case... I'll make my move."

Without a second of hesitation, Evan stood, crossed the room, shoved another man out of the way, and dropped onto the sofa right next to Elena.

"Miss Ashford," Evan asked bluntly, leaning into her space. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

Elena didn't look up from her phone. "No."

"Good." Evan poured himself a drink, visibly thrilled.

The unspoken understanding rippled through the room. Evan had staked his claim. Elena was no longer open territory.

Across the room, Lucien watched the exchange. There was nothing left to misunderstand. He hadn't expected the very man pushing him forward to harbor his own interest.

First came surprise. Then, something much harder to name. A quiet, suffocating constriction beneath his ribs, as if something sharp had permanently lodged itself in his lungs.

Evan, encouraged by her lack of outright rejection, leaned closer. "So what do you like to do, Miss Ashford?"

"Does killing count?"

Elena finally looked up. Her expression was completely flat. She did not look like she was joking.

Evan let out a nervous, barking laugh. "You're funny." He leaned in closer, growing far too familiar. "What about food? French? Japanese?"

"I don't like any of them." Her voice stayed dangerously calm, though a thread of ice was beginning to show. She was only tolerating his breathing for Zoe's sake.

"Tennis? Golf? Rock climbing?" Evan kept pushing, entirely missing the absolute frost gathering in her dark eyes.

Across the room, Lucien watched the physical space between them disappear. The pressure in his chest climbed straight into his throat. Heavy. Unbearable.

Without a single word, Lucien stood up, set his glass down, and walked out of the private room.

Evan noticed the exit immediately. A sly, victorious smile curved his lips. He turned back to Elena—

—and met her gaze.

It was no longer indifferent. It was lethal.

"Get lost."

Cold. Clean. Final.

Elena stood, grabbed her clutch, and walked out, leaving Evan frozen on the sofa.

The bass on the ground floor had only grown more violent. Bodies pressed together in the dark, suffocating heat. Elena found it unbearable. She slipped into the quiet of the empty VIP restroom.

Inside her clutch, her phone vibrated.

She answered.

"What is it?"

"Miss Ashford," Julian Kade's voice came through the speaker, amused and sharp. "That Ansel shipment routed through Southeast Asia? We intercepted it."

"Good." Her mood shifted instantly. A thin, wicked smile curved across her lips. "Make sure they know I did it."

Silence. Julian exhaled a sharp breath. "I don't agree. That shipment is worth billions, Elena. If the Ansels find out, they will come for your head."

Elena said nothing. The heavy silence stretched over the line.

Julian swore under his breath. He knew that silence. She never changed her mind. "Fine," he muttered. "I'll make the call."

He hung up.

At that exact moment, across the city, the Ansel family was gathered in their grand dining hall.

Victor Ansel had barely taken a bite of his steak when his phone rang.

"The shipment crossing the Atlantic toward Southeast Asia—" the voice on the other end panicked. "It's gone."

Victor choked, spraying his drink across the mahogany table. The entire dining room froze. Grace rushed forward. "Victor. Breathe."

He steadied himself, his fingers trembling violently as he pressed the phone back to his ear. "Thomas. Repeat that."

Thomas did. Billions of dollars. Erased.

Victor staggered backward as if he had been struck with a baseball bat. The family erupted into alarmed shouts.

Before he could process the destruction, his phone rang a second time.

He answered it in a daze. The call lasted exactly five seconds.

His expression warped from shock, to disbelief, to pure, unhinged fury.

"ELENA ASHFORD!"

His roar shattered the glass of the dining hall. And finally, the Ansel family understood.

This was war.