The doors hadn't even fully closed before Lucien hauled Charléne into the room.
With a flick of his wrist, he sent her flying.
Charlène hit the armchair with a soft thud, her body bouncing against the plush fabric before she scrambled to sit up.
"What the heck is wrong with you?" she hissed, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and fear. "Let me fucking go, Lucien!"
She moved to stand, but he was faster. Lucien stepped into her space, his palm hitting her shoulder and shoving her back into the chair with enough force to make the back of her head snap against the wood.
"Sit," he hissed, the command vibrating in her very marrow. "You've done enough mischief for one night."
As she struggled, her midnight-blue dress gave way. The plunging neckline, already precarious, slid down her skin, completely exposing the pale, trembling curves of her breasts. They heaved in the dim light, the nipples tight from the sudden chill of the room.
Lucien didn't look away. His eyes darkened,
