**40 Minutes Earlier**
"We discovered three more families who are openly opposed to the council and everything it represents. Their defiance was a promising developnt, but we had to tread carefully. We have not officially approached them yet, as we need to ensure we aren’t inadvertently bringing spies into our circle." Don Jon Caster, one of Lucian’s most trusted allies, reported this developnt to him.
The eting took place in Jon Caster’s exquisitely furnished office, a space that exuded power and refinent. The room was adorned with dark mahogany furniture, shelves lined with rare books, and a large, ornate desk that commanded attention.
Lucian sat comfortably in one of the plush receiving chairs, his posture relaxed but his mind sharp. Adrian, as always, stood stoically by the door, his tall fra and impassive expression making him seem more like a statue than a man. His piercing eyes scanned the room, ever vigilant, though his face betrayed no emotion.
"That’s good progress, Jon," Lucian comnted, his voice calm but laced with a thoughtful edge. He leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on his knees, his fingers steepled as he processed the information.
Jon nodded, his tone asured as he continued. "The three are small families. Bonnie, on the other hand, is a larger family, and we suspect they might also be against the council. However, we’re still observing them for now. Bonnie has a reputation for playing tricks on people—he’s cunning and unpredictable. We can’t be certain if his disdain for the council is genuine or rely a facade to mislead us."
Lucian’s eyes narrowed slightly as he considered Jon’s words. "Let’s focus on the small families first," he said after a mont. "They may be small, but they have a role to play. Even the smallest pieces can shift the balance of power." His voice was firm, leaving no room for doubt.
Just then, Adrian stepped forward, his movents smooth and deliberate. He held a ringing phone in his hand, the sound cutting through the tension in the room. Without a word, he offered it to Lucian, who took it with a curt nod.
"Skara," Lucian answered, his voice calm but authoritative as he spoke to the person on the other end of the line.
"Boss, the information I’ve just received confirms that the boy is being held in one of the underground cells at the council’s research center," the voice on the phone reported. "We don’t know the exact cell yet, but we’re certain he’s there."
Lucian’s jaw tightened, but his tone remained steady. "All right, stand by and wait for further instructions," he replied before ending the call. As soon as he did, his brows furrowed in confusion.
He felt an unexpected warmth spreading across the skin of his wrist, a sensation that shouldn’t have happened again. The bracelet he wore was designed to activate only once a month—what was happening now?
"Are you all right?" Jon Caster asked, his sharp eyes catching the strain on Lucian’s face.
"I’m fine," Lucian answered, quickly straightening his features. His voice was calm, but there was a flicker of unease in his eyes. "Unfortunately, I have to go. Let’s continue this discussion another ti." He pushed himself up from the chair, his movents fluid but deliberate, and was about to walk away when Jon Caster’s voice stopped him.
"Keep your eyes and ears open at the gala," Jon advised, his tone serious. "You may find clues that will make our work easier."
Lucian paused, turning his head to look at the man. "You’re not attending?" he asked, his voice tinged with curiosity.
"The date coincides with my flight to Moonbaland," Jon explained, a hint of firmness in his tone. "I’m not missing my anniversary vacation for anything. My wife would never forgive ."
A faint smile tugged at Lucian’s lips. "Have a great vacation, Jon, and say hello to your wife for ," he said, resuming his walk toward the door.
"Say hello to yours too for ," Jon replied, a knowing smile playing on his lips. "I’ll make sure to visit her when I return."
Lucian didn’t respond. Instead, he walked to his car and climbed in, his mind racing. Confusion and annoyance settled on his features as he leaned back against the leather seat. He needed an explanation for why the bracelet was malfunctioning, and only one person could provide that.
"Sir, are you okay?" Adrian asked as he slid into the driver’s seat, his voice low and steady.
"I’m fine," Lucian replied, though his tone suggested otherwise. "Drive to the house." He leaned his head against the seat, closing his eyes for a mont. He had planned to focus on his work and accomplish several important tasks that night, but that plan was already ruined. There was no way he could concentrate with the growing discomfort caused by the bracelet.
Like a virus slowly spreading through his system, thoughts of a certain redheaded woman began to saturate his mind. Her fiery hair, her sharp wit, the way she always seed to challenge him—it all fueled his desire and arousal, making it impossible to think clearly.
Picking up his phone, he dialed Darrell’s number. "Tell Mitchell to be at the house in 30 minutes," he instructed as soon as Darrell answered, his voice firm and commanding.
"I know soone who can turn the bracelet off if it becos too much of a bother for you," Adrian spoke up, his eyes flicking to Lucian in the rearview mirror. He had noticed the change in Lucian’s mood and the sudden request for Mitchell’s presence and imdiately knew the cause of it all.
"I would have done that if it were that easy," Lucian replied tiredly, his tone dull. "They’ll know if you tamper even slightly with the bracelet."
At that response, Adrian let out a sigh and drove in silence, the tension in the car palpable. The streets blurred past as they made their way to the house.
When they arrived, Lucian stepped out and walked into the house, his strides purposeful. As soon as he entered the living room, he saw Darrell descending the stairs, accompanied by a servant who quickly scurried away at the sight of Lucian’s stormy expression.
"Welco, Boss," Darrell greeted him, though his voice lacked its usual confidence. Pleasantries were the last thing on Lucian’s mind.
"Where is Marlowe?" Lucian demanded, his tone sharp and impatient.
"She isn’t back," Darrell answered, lowering his eyes and head in a gesture of deference.
"What do you an she isn’t back? Back from where?" Lucian asked, his voice rising slightly. His glare was intense, almost as if it could bore a hole through Darrell’s skull.
"From the airport," Darrell replied quickly, his words tumbling out in a rush. "Madam said she wanted to eat out tonight and wasn’t ready to return to the house with , so Dr. Marlowe decided to accompany her."
Lucian couldn’t believe his ears. What she did with her ti and where she chose to eat shouldn’t have concerned him, but the fact that it was riling him up to no end was both confusing and infuriating. His jaw tightened, and he clenched his fists at his sides, struggling to maintain his composure.
"Which restaurant?" Lucian asked, unable to stop himself.
"They didn’t disclose the na, sir, but I can find out now," Darrell said, already reaching for his phone.
"Never mind," Lucian said, waving his hand dismissively. He turned away, his mind racing. He knew he needed to regain control of his emotions, but the bracelet—and the thoughts it triggered—were making it increasingly difficult.
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