Lucas leaned against the doorfra, his smile practiced, polished, and entirely too bright for a Sunday morning.
"I hope I didn’t wake you," he repeated, his voice smooth.
But his eyes betrayed him. They didn’t stay on her face. They drifted down, dragging over the oversized white dress shirt she was wearing. The morning sun filtering through the hallway windows turned the cotton semi-translucent, and Aria wasn’t wearing a bra.
Lucas stared at the outline of her breasts, his gaze heavy and blatant.
Aria crossed her arms over her chest, her expression shifting from surprise to annoyance.
"My eyes are up here, Nephew," she snapped. "What do you want?"
Lucas blinked, dragging his gaze back up, though a flush crept up his neck. "Right. Sorry. I just... I needed to talk to you. About work."
He held up the stack of papers.
"The script changes," he said. "The studio emailed them Friday. We have a new scene tomorrow morning—a confrontation between the Emperor and the Consort. I... haven’t run it yet."
"And?" Aria asked, leaning against the door to block his view into the room. "Read it on the plane. We leave in five hours."
"I can’t read on planes, I get motion sickness," Lucas said, stepping closer. "And the weekend was... distracting. With the shooting, and the dinner, and... everything."
He lowered his voice, trying to sound intimate.
"I just thought, since we’re both here, we could run lines. Just to be professional."
Aria scoffed. "Professional? You’re staring at my nipples, Lucas. I don’t think ’professional’ is in your vocabulary today."
She moved to shut the door.
"Wait!" Lucas jamd his foot in the gap. "Aria, co on. Don’t be like this. Just because we have history doesn’t an we can’t work together. Unless... you’re afraid?"
He smirked, a glimpse of his old arrogance surfacing.
"Are you afraid that if we’re alone in a room, you won’t be able to handle it? Is the ’Auntie’ act just a shield?"
Aria stared at him. The audacity was breathtaking. He really thought she was avoiding him because of lingering feelings?
She laughed. It was a cold, sharp sound.
"You think I’m afraid of you?" Aria shook her head. "Lucas, I’m afraid of your acting. It usually makes nauseous."
She stepped back, swinging the door open wide.
"Fine. You want to rehearse? Go to the Drawing Room. I’ll be down in five minutes. And Lucas?"
She pointed a finger at his face.
"If you ever put your foot in my door again, I’ll break it."
She slamd the door in his face before he could respond.
Aria let out a groan of frustration.
She walked to the closet. She grabbed a pair of Damien’s grey sweatpants from his drawer.
She pulled them on. They were huge on her, rolling at the waist, slling of him. She tucked the white dress shirt in. She looked ridiculous, comfortable, and entirely claid.
She walked out.
Lucas was waiting in the Drawing Room, pacing by the fireplace. When Aria walked in, drowning in Damien’s clothes, his jaw tightened.
"You’re wearing his clothes," Lucas noted, his voice bitter.
"I already packed all my things," Aria said, taking the script pages from his hand. She sat on the sofa, curling her legs under her. "Which scene?"
"Scene 54," Lucas said, sitting opposite her. "The Emperor begs the Consort to stay."
Aria skimd the lines. It was pathetic. The character of the Emperor was weak, oscillating between power and desperation. Perfect casting.
"Fine," Aria said. "Start."
Lucas cleared his throat. He looked at her, his eyes softening.
"Li," he read, his voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Don’t turn away from . I know I’ve hurt you. I know I’ve been blind. But everything I did... I did for the kingdom. For us."
He put the script down. He wasn’t reading anymore.
"I made a mistake, Aria," Lucas said, leaning forward. "I was an idiot. I let Bella get in my head. She played the victim, and I fell for it. But this weekend... watching you..."
He shook his head, looking at her with a raw, desperate intensity.
"You’re incredible. You’re strong. You’re vicious. I didn’t know you had that in you. And I miss it. I miss us."
Aria lowered her script. She watched him with the detached curiosity of a scientist observing a bug.
"There is no ’us’, Lucas," she said calmly.
"There can be," Lucas insisted. He stood up and walked over to her, kneeling in front of the sofa. He reached out, trying to take her hand. "Leave him. He bought you, Aria. I know he did. You don’t love him. He’s cold. He’s cruel."
Aria pulled her hand away.
"He’s using you to piss off my great-grandfather!" Lucas argued. "Co back to . We can fix this. I’ll dump Bella publicly. I’ll get you the best roles. We were the Golden Couple, Aria. We were perfect."
Aria stared at him. Kneeling. Begging. Still talking about his image, his career, his wants.
She started to laugh.
It bubbled up from her chest, uncontrollable and loud. She doubled over, clutching the script, laughing until tears pricked her eyes.
"What?" Lucas demanded, offended. "What’s funny?"
"You," Aria gasped, wiping her eyes. "You really think this is all about you? You think I’m with him because of money?"
She sat up, her expression sobering instantly. The laughter died, leaving only ice.
"Lucas, look at yourself. You’re kneeling on the floor, begging your ex-fiancée to take you back while wearing the clothes bought with the money of the man you’re trying to insult."
"You want to know the difference between you and him?"
Aria leaned forward, her voice dropping to a whisper that cut deeper than any shout.
"You’re a boy, Lucas. I’m married to a man."
Lucas flinched as if she had slapped him. His face drained of color, then flushed a violent, angry red.
Aria stood up, tossing the script onto his chest.
"Rehearsal’s over," she said. "Learn your lines, Nephew. I won’t carry you in the scene tomorrow."
She walked out of the Drawing Room, her oversized sweatpants swishing, leaving him kneeling in the silence.
Lucas watched her go. He clutched the script in his hand, crumbling the paper.
She thought he was a boy? She thought Damien was better than him?
His shock began to curdle into sothing darker. Sothing obsessive.
"You’re wrong, Aria," he whispered to the empty room. "You’re just playing hard to get. And I love a challenge."
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