Page 184 of The Obedient Lie
“Please, Luca. Try and fuck them up.”
He leaned closer, the rest of the world disappearing.
“What number?”
“Twenty-two. Five. And twelve.” I didn’t hesitate.
He tensed.
“They’re Cartiers,” I added. “The same ones who made that offer — like I was some asset they could buy.”
He grabbed the back of my neck and kissed me hard.
“You better be ready, baby,” he rasped against my lips, voice shaking with restraint. “We’re going to wear you out tonight.”
I exhaled shakily. “Promise?”
He smirked.
“It’s a vow, baby.”
And then he was gone.
Out onto the field with Bastion — black jerseys like armor, shadows cutting across the sunlit turf.
My blood roared with pride. Not because they were about to play for me. Suddenly the game got a lot more enjoyable.
Chapter Forty-Five
BASTION
The crowd was deafening.
Stadium lights burned white against the early dusk, turning the field into a battlefield soaked in noise, testosterone, and expectation.
Dynasty flags rippled from the skyboxes.
Every family was here — Caplans, Grimaldis, Harlans — even our own crest waved from the VIP box, black and gold stitched like a warning.
But none of it mattered.
Not the pressure.
Not the noise.
Not the weight of bloodlines and contracts.
Because all I could think about washer.
Emilia.
Walking straight up to us like she wasn’t the forbidden daughter of the Adams line.
Like she hadn’t been paraded at gala after gala beside men who wanted to buy her future.
And then she gave us something no dynasty contract ever had:
Permission.
