Chapter 10 – A Dance with the Devil

AURORA

The walls of her father's study had always felt like a coffin.

Dark wood, dim lighting, the scent of leather and something heavier—something suffocating.

It wasn't the bookshelves that made her uneasy. Not the expensive art hanging above the fireplace, nor the thick, velvet curtains that blocked out the light.

It was him.

Richard Sinclair sat behind his mahogany desk, fingers steepled, gaze assessing.

For years, she had sat across from him like this, back straight, hands in her lap, waiting for his judgment.

It was a game she had been trained to play since childhood.

And one she had never won.

Aurora inhaled carefully, masking her nerves. "You wanted to see me?"

Her father didn't answer immediately. Instead, he picked up a crystal glass from his desk, swirling the dark liquid inside before taking a slow sip.

A silence stretched between them, heavy, calculated.

She didn't shift under his scrutiny. Didn't break eye contact.

She had learned, long ago, that weakness only invited cruelty.

"You're becoming restless," he said finally.

It wasn't a question.

Aurora kept her expression neutral. "I don't know what you mean."

His lips curved—something resembling amusement but too sharp, too cold. "Don't you?"

Her pulse pounded, but she didn't look away.

This was a test.

It always was.

"I go to class. I come home. Just like always."

Richard leaned back in his chair, watching her like a predator studying prey. "You forget that I know you, Aurora. I see everything. Every flicker of defiance. Every attempt to test your boundaries."

A slow, knowing smile.

Like he already knew.

About the stranger in her room.

About the way he had touched her.

About the way she had let him.

A chill slid down her spine.

"I don't—"

Richard cut her off with a flick of his fingers. "Don't insult me by lying."

Aurora swallowed hard.

She didn't know how much he had seen.

Didn't know how much he suspected.

But she knew one thing—if he found out the truth, she wouldn't survive it.

---

LUCIAN

Richard Sinclair was getting nervous.

Lucian had seen it in the way he carried himself lately. The subtle shifts in his movements, the extra security he had stationed around his estate.

The bastard knew something was coming.

He just didn't know when.

Lucian smirked, exhaling a slow stream of smoke as he leaned against the railing of his penthouse balcony.

Sinclair had always thought himself untouchable.

Untouchable men were the easiest to destroy.

His fingers itched for his gun, for the familiar weight of steel against his palm, but he forced himself to wait.

Patience wasn't his strong suit, but for her, he'd make an exception.

Aurora.

He could still see her—wide eyes, breath hitching, body trembling as he had pushed.

She had been scared.

But she hadn't run.

She was his, whether she realized it yet or not.

And soon?

She'd understand that.

A sharp knock on his door pulled him from his thoughts.

He didn't turn. "Speak."

There was a pause before the voice responded. "Your meeting is in an hour."

Lucian sighed, flicking his cigarette over the balcony. "Let them wait."

He wasn't done playing yet.

---

AURORA

Her father's voice was calm. Measured. But Aurora could hear the venom laced beneath it.

"Do you know what happens to girls who think they can defy me?"

Her fingers curled into her skirt, nails pressing into her palm.

A memory flickered—one she had buried deep.

A girl.

Barely older than her.

She had worked for the family, had made the mistake of betraying him.

Aurora had never seen her again.

Her father tilted his head, studying her reaction. "I don't like loose ends, Aurora. And I certainly don't like distractions."

Her blood ran cold.

This wasn't just about her.

It was about him.

The stranger.

The man who had crept into her room like a shadow, who had whispered things that made her stomach twist.

She had spent years learning how to survive Richard Sinclair.

But him?

She wasn't sure she could.

"I would never do anything to disrespect you, Father," she said smoothly.

A lie.

A necessary one.

Richard watched her for a long moment before standing.

He crossed the space between them, cupping her chin between his fingers.

The touch wasn't gentle.

It never was.

"You belong to me," he murmured. "And soon, you'll belong to someone else. Your only job, Aurora, is to be obedient."

Her stomach churned, but she nodded.

It was the only answer he wanted.

The only answer that would keep her alive.

For now.

---

LUCIAN

Lucian's hands flexed around the glass of whiskey he had barely touched.

Sinclair was making moves.

He had spent the past few days tightening his inner circle, arranging meetings behind closed doors.

Something was coming.

And he had no fucking doubt that it involved her.

Aurora Sinclair wasn't just some spoiled little princess trapped in a golden cage.

She was the key to something bigger.

And he wasn't going to let anyone else claim her.

Lucian pushed back from his chair, tossing his drink aside as he reached for his gun.

Sinclair thought he had control.

Thought he could decide who Aurora belonged to.

He was about to learn otherwise.

Because the only person who would ever own her?

Was Lucian Vale.

And he was done waiting.

---

AURORA

She sat in front of her vanity, staring at her reflection.

The bruises on her wrist had faded.

The scars beneath her ribs had not.

Her father's words echoed in her head.

You'll belong to someone else.

She should be numb to it.

She should be used to it.

But something in her cracked.

She wasn't just a pawn.

She wasn't just a piece to be traded.

Maybe she had been caged her entire life, but that didn't mean she was powerless.

She would find a way out.

She would find him.

And this time?

She wouldn't just let him in.

She would ask him to stay.