Chapter 13- A garden indulgence

The golden afternoon sun bathed the villa's sprawling garden in a soft, honeyed glow. The scent of fresh roses and trimmed hedges hung in the air, blending with the crisp autumn breeze. Beneath the shaded canopy of an ivory gazebo, Seraphina sat rigidly on Lucien's lap, the silk of her golden gown pooling around her.

She hadn't planned for this.

The day had been set aside for diplomacy—a routine meeting with foreign envoys who were due to arrive at any moment. She had dressed for the occasion, choosing a gown the color of the morning sun, with delicate embroidery that gleamed whenever she moved. Her silver hair was pinned back, leaving only soft strands to frame her face. She was poised, elegant, composed.

At least, she had been.

Until Lucien had pulled her onto his lap, his hands warm against her waist, his breath teasing the bare skin of her neck.

"This is highly inappropriate," she murmured, trying not to squirm.

Lucien only chuckled, his deep, velvety voice sending a shiver down her spine. "Is it?" His fingers brushed against her hip, tracing idle patterns over the fabric of her dress. "No one is here yet. And besides…" He tilted his head, his lips grazing the shell of her ear. "You look too pretty for me to behave today."

Her breath hitched as his fingers dipped lower, toying with the hem of her gown.

"Lucien," she warned, her voice faltering as he lifted the soft fabric inch by inch, baring more of her legs to the open air.

"Relax, little flower," he mused, his tone laced with mischief. "Just let me enjoy myself."

Her heart pounded against her ribs. They were in the middle of the open garden, surrounded by manicured hedges and marble pathways. At any moment, someone could walk in—a servant, a noble, or worse, the diplomats they were meant to meet.

Yet Lucien seemed entirely unbothered.

His gloved fingers trailed along the curve of her thigh, tracing featherlight patterns that sent heat curling low in her stomach. He was slow, deliberate, unraveling her with teasing touches that never quite reached where she needed him most.

"You're already trembling," he noted, amusement thick in his voice. "And I've barely started."

Seraphina clenched her jaw, her fingers gripping the fabric of his coat. "You're impossible."

"And yet you're still here." His fingers slid higher, brushing over the silk of her undergarments before slipping beneath.

She bit her lip, a helpless gasp escaping her as he finally found her, stroking softly, teasingly.

"Lucien," she whimpered, her thighs clenching instinctively.

He hummed in approval, his free hand tightening around her waist. "That's it," he whispered, coaxing her closer, pressing her against his chest. His lips brushed the sensitive spot just below her ear as his fingers moved in slow, lazy circles, drawing pleasure out of her with excruciating patience.

Seraphina buried her face against his shoulder, her breath coming in uneven gasps. She should stop him. She should push him away, remind him that they had responsibilities, that people were coming.

But she couldn't.

Not when his fingers worked her so perfectly, not when his voice—smooth, rich, intoxicating—murmured quiet praises into her ear.

"Look at you," he mused, pressing a lingering kiss to her jaw. "So soft, so sweet… completely at my mercy."

She clenched her eyes shut, barely holding back a moan.

"Say my name," he urged, his fingers pressing deeper, his pace quickening. "Let me hear you."

"Lucien," she breathed, her body arching against his.

His grip tightened, his mouth finding the curve of her neck as he pushed her over the edge, drawing out every shudder, every helpless gasp, until she melted in his arms.

By the time he pulled his hand away, she was boneless against him, her chest rising and falling in ragged breaths.

Lucien chuckled, completely composed as he adjusted her gown back into place, as if nothing had happened.

"You should fix your expression," he murmured. "Unless you want the diplomats to know exactly what I just did to you."

Her eyes snapped open, her face burning.

"You—"

"Shh," he interrupted, smoothing down her skirt as he helped her off his lap. "They're arriving."

Seraphina barely had time to compose herself before the sound of approaching footsteps reached them. With great effort, she forced her breathing to steady, smoothing her hands over her gown as the diplomats entered the garden.

Lucien remained at her side, perfectly at ease, his lips curled into a knowing smirk.

As if he hadn't just ruined her moments ago.

She shot him a sharp glare, but he only winked in response.

The bastard.