Chapter Seven: He Doesn't know when to quit.

~Ariana Cross~

Tony remained standing, his eyes darted between us like he was watching a bomb tick.

I didn't wait for Lucien to answer. I spun on my heel and stormed toward the kitchen. The back hallway was narrow, dim, smelling of fryer grease and spilled beer. I pressed my back against the wall and dragged in a breath that shook.

I want you to be close to me.

Not a question. Not a request. A declaration from a man who'd never been told no in his life.

And the worst part, the absolute worst part was the traitorous heat that had curled in my stomach when he said it.

"Get a grip, Ariana," I whispered.

But my hands were still shaking.

I pushed off the wall and headed for the staff bathroom to splash water on my face. I made it three steps before a shadow filled the hallway.

It was him again. Lucien Vale.

Alone. No security. Just him, blocking the only exit, his shirt unbuttoned, his eyes burning.

"You don't know when to quit, do you?" I said, steadier than I felt.

"I know exactly when to quit," he said, stepping closer. "This isn't it."

He was close now. Too close. The hallway was narrow, and he was tall; the space between us felt like it was shrinking.

"Tony will call the cops," I said.

"Tony took my money and promised not to."

Of course he did.

I crossed my arms over my chest, creating a barrier he didn't seem to notice. "What do you want, Vale? You want me to apologize for telling the truth? You want me to grovel? Because I'm not going to."

"I want you to look at me again," he said, and the rawness stopped me cold. "The way you did in that auditorium. Like I was broken. Like you could see every crack."

I stared at him. The Ice King. The Golden Monster. Standing in a nightclub hallway looking at me like I held the answer to a question he was afraid to ask.

"You're not broken," I said quietly. "You're just lonely. Rich enough to mistake attention for connection."

"You think you know me?" His voice dropped to a whisper that vibrated through my chest.

"I think you follow women into alleys and pay off their bosses because you don't know how to ask for what you want like a normal person."

"And what do u think I want?"

I should have walked away. Should have pushed past him and called Mia and never looked back.

But I didn't.

"You want someone to tell you no," I said. "Because everyone says yes, and you're terrified they're all lying."

The hallway went silent. The music from the club thumped through the walls, muffled and distant.

Lucien didn't move. He just stared at me like I'd pulled out something he'd spent years burying.

Then, slowly, he lifted his hand. He tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers brushing my temple with a gentleness that didn't match the hunger in his eyes.

"You're dangerous," he murmured.

"I'm a waitress."

"You're a liar." His thumb traced my jawline, feather-light, and I hated that I didn't pull away. "You tell yourself you hate me. That I'm arrogant and broken and not worth your time. But your pulse is racing right now. I can see it in your throat."

I slapped his hand away. "Don't pretend you can read me." I stepped closer, invading his space. "You don't know my life. You don't know what I carry. You think you're the first rich man who wanted to own something poor? You're not special, Vale. You're just louder about it."

Something dark flashed behind his eyes real, not the polished predator.

"I'm not trying to own you," he said, rough.

"Then what are you doing?"

"I don't know."

The honesty caught me off guard.

"LUCIEN!"

A young lady stormed toward us, heels clicking, her face fury itself. Two security guards flanked her.

"Do you have any idea what you just did?" she hissed, grabbing his arm. "The investor meeting? About the drug scandal? You walked out in the middle of a presentation."

Lucien didn't look at her. His eyes stayed on mine.

"It looks like I had better things to do," he said quietly.

"Get in the car. Now. Before the press finds you in a nightclub hallway with a waitress."

"I'm not finished here."

"You are finished." The lady turned to me, with an awkward smile. "Miss...?"

"None of your business."

"Miss None of Your Business. My client is under stress. I'm sure you understand why he might... misbehave."

"I don't want your apologies. I want him gone."

Clara's eyes narrowed. She studied me, seeing something she didn't like. Then she turned back to Lucien, voice dropping to a venomous whisper.

"The investors are pulling out. Three more this morning. If you don't fix this, if you don't show them you're stable your career is over."

Something shifted in his expression. The hunger dimmed. The Ice King returned.

"I understand," he said flatly.

He let her pull him away. But at the hallway's mouth, he stopped. Looked back and mouthed.

"This isn't over, Ariana."

"Yes, it is."

He smiled. Darker this time. Something that made my stomach flip.

"We'll see."

Then he was gone, swallowed by the crowd, leaving me alone with my racing heart and the ghost of his fingers on my jaw.

I pressed my back against the wall and slid down to the dirty floor.

What the hell was that?

And why couldn't I stop feeling his eyes on me?

~Lucien Vale~

The car was silent except for Clara's furious typing.

"Completely unprofessional. Do you know what they're saying? That the scandal has broken you. That you're unfit—"

"Hire a private investigator."

She stopped. "What?"

"Ariana Cross. I want everything. Family. Finances. Medical history. Every secret."

"You cannot be serious right now."

"I'm always serious."

"Lucien." She leaned forward. "I know she got under your skin. But this is a distraction. You need to clear your name, not chase some student who insulted you."

I turned to her. "Do you know what she said?"

"That your brake bias was wrong?"

"She said I drive like a man with a death wish." I paused. "She's the first person in three years who looked at me and saw something real. Not the titles. Not the money. Just... me."

Clara's expression softened, barely. "Lucien —"

"Hire the investigator. Today."

She sighed, exhausted. Then she pulled out her phone.

"This will end badly," she muttered.

"Probably."

"She'll hate you when she finds out."

"Definitely."

"Then why?"

I watched the city lights blur past.

"Because I need to know who she is," I said quietly. "Before I do something stupid."

Clara didn't answer.

But her fingers kept typing.