Lucien's POV,
FIVE YEARS AGO- - - - -
In the morning, I sit at the head of the table, the marriage contract laid out in front of me. The Virelli family owes mine a mountain of debt, and my father had agreed with the Patriarch. Their daughter belongs to us, and the Virelli family name is under the Kórvac's.
With just a signature, I'd own every asset, every resource, every man under the Virelli family name.
But I don't touch the pen.
"I refuse," I say calmly.
The room goes still. Anya stiffens, and Matteo blinks, startled.
"Uh…uh, young wol…I mean, sir. What do you mean?"
I hiss softly and look around.
"I'd take your daughter if she comes with a price," I continue. "A maid."
Confusion ripples through them, then Matteo laughs awkwardly. "You can have any one of your choice."
"Just the one."
"All right," he says, gesturing to the man standing behind him. "Bring them all."
They line up in neat rows and bow their heads. In all honesty, I don't care. My eyes search for just one.
"Red hair," I say. "Green eyes. A bit of freckles."
Silence.
Anya's face drains of color before it floods with rage. It seems little miss pink knows exactly who I'm talking about. In fact, they all do because they shift amongst themselves.
"Elara?" Anya snaps. "That wretched thing isn't—"
"Ah. That one?" Matteo cuts in sharply, already standing. He turns to the guards with a hiss. "Find her."
Minutes stretch. Then an hour. I sit facing them. With each minute that passes, they grow more nervous. The mother, I think, even breaks out in hives. Unfortunately for them, I have all the time in the world to find the ruby. I almost laugh out loud when I remember the timid way she spoke to me.
Their guards come back empty-handed.
"She's gone," someone says quietly, averting his eyes.
Gone?
Something tightens in my chest.
I straighten, wiping imaginary dust off my suit. "What do you mean, she's gone?"
Matteo gulps, then rises to his feet.
"Search everywhere!" He orders, pushing at the guards and maids, "Outside the premises. She can't have gone far! Find her, and the one who does will be rewarded bountifully."
Chaos erupts. They all run, scampering about, and Anya shakily rises to her feet. "If I may ask, why do you want her?"
"I don't need to explain my actions to you, Virelli," I say coldly, and she visibly flinches. "But if you must know, she has some answers I need."
They don't need to know that I just want her because… she struck me as gold. A once-in-a-lifetime person. An intriguing person.
The mother drags Anya back down. "It's okay. She's probably just in trouble."
I let them believe that.
One maid comes in and falls to the ground, whimpering. "She's gone, Patriarch. Her clothes. Her books. Everything is gone."
My eyes blaze. And while Matteo yells or argues, I slowly stand up and adjust my lapel.
"I'm a busy man, Virelli." I sneer. "Bring her to me, or pay me back every cent you owe. No exceptions. In the meantime, the wedding's off."
I start to leave, and someone holds me. I turn to see it's a teary-eyed Anya. "But why? You can have anyone. Why her?"
"Because I want her." I say, firmly, then tug my arms off of hers. I gesture to the bodyguard following me. "Give her a napkin to wipe her tears."
When I get to the car, Adrian teases me. "How's the newly married man coming along?"
I face the window, "I didn't marry."
The car screeches to a halt. "What?! Tell me you're joking."
"Unfortunately." I sigh, pressing the bridge of my nose. "I'm not."
He continues driving. "Why? The girl can't have been that bad."
"No, they just didn't have my price."
There's silence for a while before he speaks. "I'd worry for you, but I'm pretty sure you can survive your mother."
~ ~
Five years pass, and I still search.
Every redhead. Every green-eyed woman. Every Elara that crosses my path.
None of them is her, and eventually, the trail goes cold. My family members call me insane, and the Virellis are trembling in their boots with each year that passes. They beg for forgiveness, but in all honesty, I don't care if they pay me back. I just want the Elara from the library.
Her face stayed just out of reach, like a secret the dark refused to give up. But I remember her anyway. I remember her better than the women I've looked at in full daylight.
I remember her voice most.
It was quiet, and when she spoke, it curled around me, warm and uncertain. When she gasped, it wasn't loud. It was sweet, like music to my ears.
I remember her freckles. Faint, and scattered like constellations across skin that felt too soft for the world she lived in. I remember tracing them with my eyes, committing them to memory without knowing why, like my mind already knew this would be the only way to keep her.
Her eyes haunt me, emerald green. Deep. They didn't challenge me, yet they held my attention completely.
I remember her lips.
They were hesitant at first, then certain. They lingered in my mind long after the room emptied. I've kissed other mouths since, but none of them erased that memory.
I remember how she felt in my arms, how she trusted me for those few stolen moments, how she chose me without even knowing my name.
I never saw her fully, but I knew in my heart that she was beautiful. I never forgot her.
"She's gone from your radar," Nikolai tells me one night, when Isolde comes back empty-handed again.
"Seriously, though, why does it matter?" He plops his ass on the couch, and I take a sip from the whiskey in my cup.
I don't answer immediately.
"I'm intrigued," I only say, and Mireya scoffs, drinking straight from the bottle.
"Your heart is intrigued."
"Oh, please." Adrian drawls out, half-drooling on the sofa. He was already drunk, as usual. "Lucien doesn't have a heart."
Then one day, in a café near one of my apartments, I see a boy.
A boy who looked just like me.