C4 – THE PROPOSAL

Lucy walked behind the butler, her hands clenched tight. Her footsteps echoed softly against the gleaming marble, and although the house was a spectacle of luxury, the air felt thick.

The butler stopped in front of a large double door and, without looking at her, spoke in a deep, dry voice:

He gave her a slight nod and walked away, without another word.

Lucy stood still in front of the door, feeling her heart pound against her chest like a caged animal. Inside, fear clawed its way up her throat, burning her tongue.

So she took a deep breath, once, twice. And her trembling hand rose and knocked on the door.

And a shiver ran through her body. She told herself it was from tension, from fear... but also from what she knew: the man behind that door shared the same blood as her husband.

And then she saw him.

Eros was standing by the window, his back to her—but when he turned... it was like electricity shot through her body. Tall. Dark-haired, tousled in an untamable way. His face was angular, sharply defined, with a shadow of stubble that gave him a wild edge. But what left her paralyzed were his eyes: gray, cold, like sharpened steel. There was something dangerous about him, something he couldn't—and wouldn't—hide.

"H-hello," she whispered. It was all that came out of her mouth.

Eros raised an eyebrow, surprised.

Desire hit him brutally and instantly. He felt his cock strain hard against his pants, and that enraged him.

He moved.

"Is that all you're going to say?" he asked, with a half-smile. "Hello?"

Eros's eyes cut through her, studying her as if he could read the secrets etched into her skin. She tried to hold his gaze but couldn't. She dropped her eyes, breathing raggedly. She felt naked, defenseless, without shelter.

"Come on, Lucy, speak. It's now or never. You can't keep running," she urged herself.

"I want you to protect me," she finally said, her voice barely a thread.

Eros's expression shifted.

"Why would you want that?" he asked, as if he didn't need anything more than that closeness to make her talk.

Lucy stood still, but her body betrayed her: trembling breath, tense muscles, fear racing beneath her skin. His scent surrounded her—clean, masculine, dark.

Eros's body tensed instantly. He spun on his heel and stood in front of her again.

Lucy dropped her gaze, ashamed and on the verge of tears.

Eros clenched his fists.

Lucy didn't respond. She couldn't. Only a single tear slid down her cheek.

Eros stared at her as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. As if he didn't know what circle of hell he'd just stepped into.

Lucy looked up, confused.

"Besides that, chérie (darling)... what else happened? Why does Ezra want you dead?"

The French endearment disarmed her inside, but not enough to forget what was coming.

Her body began to tremble, completely out of control. Remembering her pain was too much. She covered her face with her hands, and the sobs burst out without warning—violent, uncontrollable.

Eros said nothing. But his eyes were fixed on her, on every tremor of her body. He breathed heavily. Fury boiled in his blood. But beyond the rage... something else was stirring in him. Something dangerous.

The silence that followed was thick, heavy with everything left unsaid. Lucy was still trembling, the dried tears still marking her face.

Eros, for his part, watched her closely, but his mind was far away. What Lucy had just confessed didn't just disturb him—it pushed him into that dark place he'd kept sealed for so long.

He'd always been a manipulative bastard, egotistical and power-hungry. For as long as he could remember, their relationship had been rotten. Competition, veiled betrayals, silent contempt. It hadn't surprised him when he heard Ezra had gotten married—just another move to bolster his public image.

Ezra's explosive temper, his sick need for control, his resentment whenever anyone questioned his authority... It wasn't just sexual frustration. It was humiliation. Literal and figurative impotence. And Lucy had been the target of all of it.

When he looked at her again—her face red, her hands clenched into fists on her lap—something shifted inside him.

But there she was.

Donatello's rejection echoed in his head again. He needed a wife. Not a romance, not a distraction—a respectable figure by his side.

Lucy's soft sobs pulled him from his thoughts, and he adjusted his emotions. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a white linen handkerchief, extending it toward her with a slow, almost deliberate movement.

Lucy looked at him in surprise.

Eros sighed, and his mind started racing again like a train without brakes. They were in the middle of chaos... but within the chaos, there was a way out.

"Tell me something," he broke the silence again. "Why did you come to me? Why didn't you go to your family?"

Lucy swallowed hard. Panic still floated in her eyes.

Eros leaned slightly toward her, analyzing every word. It wasn't just fear. It was certainty. She'd chosen his house because she believed Ezra would never cross that line. And she was right.

"Because... because he's afraid of you," she whispered. "I don't know what happened... he never talked much about you, but... I know it. He's afraid of you."

A spark lit in Eros's eyes.

"You're right," he said calmly. "Ezra and I are enemies. We have been ever since he stole my place as head of the family. But he didn't leave without scars. Have you seen them?"

Lucy nodded with a shiver.

Lucy shook her head immediately. This man might be dangerous, but she trusted him. She didn't know why—but she did.

Eros didn't hesitate.

"Money?" she asked, confused. "I don't think you need it."

"No," he said, a twisted smile curling his lips. "But since you've come to my door... you'll be my first choice."

Lucy blinked, uncertain.

Eros moved toward her again—for some reason, he couldn't stay away—leaned in, and his mouth brushed her ear:

She froze.