His Bride, His Blood Price
Chapter 24 — The Lesson
Lucien's POV
Three days had passed.
Three days since Aria's breath slowed under drugged influence.
Three days since Sofia tried to humiliate him through her.
And three days since he decided she would never touch either of them again.
Lucien stood in the dim light of an abandoned wine cellar beneath one of the old Moretti-controlled properties on the outskirts of Milan. Dust drifted in lazy patterns through a single slit of moonlight above. His men waited in silence behind him, watching the woman chained to the central pillar.
Sofia Di Luca.
Once elegant. Once untouchable.
Now barefoot, wrists bound with steel cuffs. Still dressed in a designer silk blouse, but it was wrinkled and stained. Her lipstick had faded, and there was blood dried at the corner of her mouth from when Enzo dragged her in two hours ago.
Lucien didn't look at her right away.
Instead, he spoke to the man kneeling beside the table — a blade in one hand, a branding iron resting in the fire behind him.
"Not the face," Lucien said. "Not the hands."
The man nodded.
Sofia stirred then, lifting her head, voice still sharp despite the bruises.
"Going to kill me, Lucien?"
Lucien finally looked at her.
"No," he said coolly. "I'm going to teach you."
She laughed — a high, mocking sound. "Aria won't survive you. Sooner or later, she'll choke on the life you gave her."
Lucien stepped forward slowly, each word like a cut.
"And you just made sure you'll never be there to watch it."
---
Aria's POV
She wasn't supposed to know.
But Clara talked in whispers when she thought Aria was asleep. Enzo dropped hints. And one of the house staff had returned that morning looking pale and shaken.
Lucien hadn't come to her room last night.
And now she knew why.
She found him in the inner courtyard, sitting in the stone gazebo that overlooked the reflecting pool. He wore all black. His sleeves were rolled, and his eyes looked distant, darker than usual.
She didn't speak.
Just sat across from him.
"You heard," he said quietly.
"I guessed."
He looked at her, tired but unapologetic. "She's still breathing. If that matters to you."
Aria's breath hitched. "Did you… torture her?"
"No," he said. "I humiliated her. Broke her sense of power. Left her with a scar no mirror can show, but one every man will whisper about."
"What did you do?"
Lucien paused.
"I had my men shave her hair. Not all — just enough to remind her she's no longer sacred. Then we delivered her to the gates of her family's lesser villa with a bottle of pills and a camera recording."
Aria swallowed. "That's cruel."
Lucien's gaze didn't flinch.
"So was slipping a sedative in your glass."
---
She stood, walking to the edge of the gazebo.
The late afternoon sun painted long shadows across the stone. Birds chirped in distant trees. It was too peaceful for the things they were saying.
"She'll come back," Aria said quietly. "Women like that don't break easy."
"She won't." Lucien rose behind her. "Not unless she wants to be seen crawling."
"And if she does?"
Lucien moved to her side.
"I'll take her legs next."
The way he said it — not with violence, but with certainty — sent a shiver down her spine.
Not from fear.
From revelation.
Lucien Moretti wasn't a monster.
He was a weapon.
And he had just chosen her side.
---
Later That Night
Aria couldn't sleep.
Her body was healed, but her thoughts weren't.
She paced the hallway outside Lucien's study, hesitating before lifting her hand to knock.
The door opened before she could.
Lucien stood there, freshly showered, shirt unbuttoned halfway, a whiskey glass in hand.
He stepped aside without a word.
She entered.
"Do you hate what I did?" he asked.
Aria turned to him.
"No."
Lucien raised a brow. "Then what do you feel?"
She paused.
Then walked up to him — close enough to see the tension in his jaw, the heat in his eyes.
"I feel… protected."
His breath caught.
"And a little scared."
Lucien tilted his head. "Of me?"
"Of how much I wanted you to do it."
---
Lucien's POV
That admission hit him like a blow.
Because he felt the same.
He hadn't just punished Sofia for her crime.
He had done it for Aria. For her dignity. Her safety.
And it had changed something between them.
He set down the glass and stepped closer to her.
Their bodies were nearly touching now.
"Say it again," he murmured.
Her voice trembled.
"I feel protected."
He leaned in.
This time, she didn't flinch.
This time, she didn't hold back.
And this time…
They nearly kissed.
But not yet.
Not quite.
Because when it happened, it would not be out of adrenaline or darkness.
It would be real.
And unstoppable.