Page 10 of Lucien & Olivia

I bite my lip because even after years together he still makes me blush. His tattooed fingers unfasten the wrappings and he lifts the lid to reveal a fine leather wallet. I can tell he’s confused. It’s not like he doesn’t have a wallet already.

He flips it open. Inside, it’s lined with silk. His eyes flick up to mine and they’re bright.

“Is this...from that slip?”

“The slip I wore on our wedding night?” I say, shrugging. “Yes, I might have saved it.”

The space between his collarbones, above his tattoos, flushes. I can tell the thoughts of having part of such an intimate moment between us means a lot to him. Of course it does, he loves little details more than anything. He lifts it to his face and inhales.

“It still smells like you,” he says, desire rising in his cold voice.

“Well, it was in my closet for a while.”

I put a picture of us on our tenth wedding anniversary in the first fold. He’s sitting in his armchair with the fireplace of his old office in the background. I’m perched on the arm of his chair and he’s got one arm around my waist. He’s deadpan as usual, but I’m smiling because he just pinched my ass a second before the camera flashed.

It’s so much better than our actual wedding photo. We have one from that day and I’m standing next to him looking sick. He’s staring down at me with a disjointed expression, as if he has no idea how I got there. Little did we know that someday we’d want a good photo to commemorate the beginning of our marriage.

He sets the wallet aside like it's made of glass and pulls me into his lap. I sit with my legs to the side because my gold dress is so tight I can barely breathe—the look on his face when I walked out of the bathroom made it worth it though. My arms go around his neck and we kiss with aching slowness.

We’ve had a lot of growing pains between us over the years. There were so many nights of tears, fighting, and rough make up sex. Hard words flew back and forth over our bed, behind locked doors, and even more apologies were whispered between the sheets. I’m not sure it’s possible to be more intimate than Lucien and I have been. We’ve seen the absolute worst of each other.

And yet, he stayed.

And so did I. Tonight I’m so glad we fought hard to end up here. Because the good is so good it’s worth it all.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Lucien

Olivia climbs into the window and leans against the sill. Outside, I can see the courtyard is lit. The clouds overhead have cleared a bit and stars hang heavy between them. Little flakes of snow spiral out of the darkness. She unfastens the latch and pushes the window ajar. The faint sounds of holiday music on a violin wafts through.

“Can we go outside?” she asks.

I stroke the back of her neck. “Go put on your boots and coat.”

She flashes me a smile and I go to wash up while she puts her things on. When I step out of the bathroom, she’s holding my coat. Not the overcoat I usually wear, it’s the one we received as gifts on our honeymoon. She put them away, sealed in plastic, several years ago, but clearly she deemed tonight important enough to break them out.

“I thought these weren’t for wearing,” I say, taking the thick wool.

She picks hers up from the bed and wraps the creamy wool around her curvy body. I love this coat on her, the white fur brings out the glassy dark of her eyes and hair. I bend to kissher mouth, noting she put a new layer of lipstick on. The rest is around my cock, hidden beneath my zipper like the sweetest secret between just us.

I take her hand and lead her back out into the hall. She follows me, her eyes bright, but not from the champagne. She’s happy, I made her happy and that’s all I want for us. We head down the staircase and I help her make her way down. She put her heeled boots on, the ones that zip up over her thigh. She looks so good that even though we’re surrounded by lavish decorations, all I can do is stare at her as we move through the lobby.

I push the door open and guide her through. Outside, it’s so cold she pulls her jacket close around her body. I take her hand and guide her down the stairs. There’s a fire burning in the brick pit at the center of the courtyard and she gravitates towards its warmth.

In the glow of the firepit, I slip my arm around her waist and pull her near.

“Are you happy, baby?” I murmur.

She turns her face up and leans into my body. Her smile is dreamy and tired, but in the best way.

“I’m so happy,” she whispers.

That’s all I want to hear anymore. For a long time, I pursued power, control, and revenge. And there’s still part of me that keeps fighting for power because someday, if everything goes according to the natural flow, I’ll hand the city down to one of my sons. I want to give them an empire that’s thriving.

But nothing matters to me as deeply as my family and their happiness. Olivia spent a lot of time being unhappy before she married me. And then she spent so many years being strong for me, weathering storms she should never have had to face. But now, things are much quieter. I have time to come home a few hours early to take her to dinner now and then. Insteadof sending her gifts from work every time, some days I get to surprise her with them in person.

Hearing her say that she’s happy is the best gift.

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