The next morning, Lucien was already gone by the time Elara woke up.
The maids quietly informed her that he had left for the office before dawn. No message. No note. Just the usual cold silence that had become the new normal since their return from the forest.
Elara spent the day wandering the mansion again, restless and hollow. The beautiful rooms felt like a cage now. She replayed the dinner from the night before — the way he had barely glanced at her in the dress she had chosen so carefully, the flat dismissal when she tried to speak. It hurt more than she wanted to admit.
That night, she tried again.
She dressed with even more care. A sleek black dress with a subtle but seductive slit up one thigh and a neckline that dipped just enough to hint at the curve of her breasts. She left her hair down in soft waves and added a touch of red lipstick — bold, elegant, impossible to ignore. She told herself it was for her own confidence.
But deep down, she knew she was still hoping he would see her. Really see her.
Dinner was set in the same formal dining room. Two places. Candles. The same perfect silence.
When Lucien finally walked in, Elara's heart clenched.
He looked exhausted but still perfectly composed — dark suit, sharp jaw, that commanding presence that made the air feel heavier. He sat down at the head of the table without a word.
This time he did look at her.
For one brief second his gray eyes swept over the dress, the slit revealing her leg, the way the fabric clung to her body. Something dark and pained flashed across his face — almost like it hurt him to look.
Then he looked away.
His gaze became distant again, as if focusing on her was a burden he didn't want to carry.
Elara's chest tightened painfully. She felt small and foolish all over again. The beautiful dress, the effort she had put in — it all felt pointless.
She waited until the main course was served before she spoke, her voice quiet but steady.
"Lucien… I want to start working."
He paused, fork halfway to his mouth. For the first time that evening, he actually looked at her fully. His expression remained cold, controlled.
"Why?" he asked flatly.
"Because I'm tired of being trapped in this mansion," she said, the words coming out stronger than she expected. "I'm tired of wandering these rooms like a ghost. I need something to do. I need… purpose. And I want a phone of my own. There are people in the outside world who might be worried about me. I haven't contacted anyone in weeks."
Lucien set his fork down slowly. His gray eyes studied her for a long moment, unreadable. The silence stretched, thick and heavy.
Elara's heart pounded. She hated how much his distant gaze hurt her. She hated that after everything they had shared in the forest — the touches, the heat, the raw honesty — he could sit here and look at her like she was an inconvenience.
Finally, he spoke, voice cool and measured.
"We will discuss it."
That was all.
He picked up his fork again and continued eating as if the conversation had never happened.
Elara sat there, the food tasting like nothing. Her beautiful dress suddenly felt ridiculous. The ache in her chest grew sharper.
She was not giving up easily. If he was going to pretend she didn't exist, she wouldn't let him. There was no way she was spending another week waiting for him to "think about it."
The silence in the dining room grew heavier.
Elara's heart squeezed. She had had enough.
"I said I want to start working, Lucien," she repeated, voice steady despite the ache. "I don't think I have the psychological capacity to wait for an answer any longer than it has to be."
Lucien's knife paused mid-cut. He lifted his eyes slowly, cold and calculating. "You have everything you want here. You don't need to work."
"Do I?" A part of her mind questioned internally.
"I need to because if I don't, I'm going to lose my mind," she replied. "I need something that's mine. I'm not just your convenient wife waiting in this mansion."
He studied her for a long moment, the gray gaze piercing. Then he leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping once against the table — a small sign that his mind was already calculating every angle.
"Working comes with conditions," he said flatly. "You will work in my company. And you will have a personal guard assigned to you."
Elara's jaw tightened. "The guard will draw too much attention. I don't want people staring at me because I have a shadow following me everywhere."
Lucien's lips curved into the faintest, coldest smile. "Then they watch from a distance. You won't even know they're there. Those are the terms. Accept them, or stay in the mansion."
The way he said it — calm, absolute, leaving no real room for negotiation — made her blood heat with frustration and something darker. He was so controlled, so calculating, even now.
She wanted to scream at him. She wanted to remind him how he had groaned against her skin in the cave, how he had licked her until she shook. Instead, she lifted her chin.
"Fine. I accept."
Lucien gave a single nod, as if the conversation had been nothing more than a minor business deal. He stood up, adjusting his cuff with that signature composure.
"Good. You start next week, as for the phone you'll get it on your first day of work,"
He walked out without another word, leaving Elara sitting alone at the long table again.
She stared at the empty doorway, chest tight.
He was rebuilding the walls higher than ever.
But she could still feel the heat of his gaze from the few seconds he had actually looked at her — calculating, hungry, and dangerously restrained.
And she was starting to wonder how much longer either of them could keep pretending the forest had never happened.
_____
Elara stepped out of the sleek black car in front of Volkov Tower, the morning sun glinting off the glass skyscraper. She wore a tailored pencil skirt and crisp white blouse that looked professional but still hugged her figure just enough to remind her of the power she was trying to reclaim. A small leather bag hung from her shoulder — inside was the new phone Lucien had finally allowed her after the tense dinner negotiation.
No one in the building knew she was the boss's wife.
There were only vague rumors that Lucien Volkov had gotten married suddenly, but nothing had been confirmed. He had never addressed it publicly, and the company gossip mill treated it like an urban legend.
She felt eyes on her the moment she walked through the revolving doors. Not obvious stares — the guards Lucien assigned were professionals. They blended perfectly, watching from a distance exactly as promised. Still, the awareness of being observed made her spine tingle.
Her role was junior marketing coordinator in the Volkov Foundation — the legitimate charity arm. It gave her some independence without putting her in the high-stakes corporate battles. She was grateful for that.
"New girl?" A bright, bubbly voice greeted her at the elevator bank.
Elara turned to see a woman with vibrant red hair, bright green eyes, and an energy that seemed to vibrate. She was dressed in a stylish but playful outfit — a fitted blouse with a colorful scarf and a skirt that swished when she moved.
"I'm Mia! Marketing team. You must be the new junior coordinator. Come on, I'll show you around. The office is a jungle, but the coffee is decent and the eye candy is chef's kiss."
Mia linked her arm with Elara's before she could protest and pulled her into the elevator.
As the doors closed, Mia leaned in conspiratorially. "Okay, real talk. Have you seen the boss yet? Lucien Volkov. Tall, dark, scary-hot, gray eyes that could melt steel or freeze you solid depending on his mood. God, I would let that man ruin me in the copy room and thank him after."
Elara's stomach twisted with a sharp, unexpected jealousy. She forced a small smile. "I… haven't met him yet."
Mia sighed dreamily, fanning herself. "Lucky me. I have. Once in a hallway meeting. He looked at me for half a second and I swear my panties disintegrated. I've had so many dirty dreams about him. Like, him bending me over his desk, that deep voice telling me to be quiet while he fucks me so hard the whole floor hears the desk creaking. Or pinning me against the glass window at night, city lights behind us, while he growls filthy things in my ear about how tight I am for him."
Mia bit her lip, eyes glazing over. "I bet he's the type who takes control completely. Hands in your hair, telling you exactly how he wants you to come. I'd let him do anything. Anything."
Elara's cheeks burned. Was this even appropriate in an office setting, plus she barely even knew her how could she say such things to a stranger no less?
The images Mia painted slammed into her mind — but instead of Mia, it was her own body bent over Lucien's desk. His hands gripping her hips. His voice, low and rough, whispering the same filthy words he had used in the cave. The memory of his tongue between her thighs made her thighs press together involuntarily.
Jealousy flared hot and sharp in her chest. She hated how possessive it felt. He wasn't hers. Not really. He had made that painfully clear.
Mia continued, oblivious. "Anyway, welcome to the team! You'll love it here. Just don't get caught staring at the boss too obviously. Half the women in this building are in love with him, and the other half are terrified."
The elevator dinged. Elara stepped out with Mia, forcing herself to smile and nod at introductions. But her mind was elsewhere.
Later that afternoon, she saw him.
She had gone to the top floor to get some files as requested by the head of her team. What she didn't expect was encountering Lucien.
Mia followed her in hopes of seeing him.
Lucien stepped into the elevator just as the doors were closing. He was in a perfectly tailored charcoal suit, looking every inch the untouchable. Their eyes met for a fraction of a second.
He gave the smallest, coldest nod of acknowledgment — nothing more — then looked away as if she were any other employee.
The doors closed.
Elara stood there, heart aching, the memory of his mouth on her skin clashing violently with the indifferent man who had just pretended she didn't exist.
Mia nudged her. "See? Scary-hot, right?"
Elara swallowed hard.
"Yeah," she whispered. "Scary-hot."
She spent the rest of the day trying to focus on her tasks, but every time she closed her eyes, she saw Lucien's gray eyes half-lidded with lust in the cave, heard his rough voice calling her his little whore while he made her come on his tongue.
And every time she remembered how coldly he had looked at her today, the ache in her chest grew sharper.
By the time she got back to the mansion that evening, the jealousy and frustration had twisted into something dangerous.
She was tired of being invisible.
And she was starting to wonder just how far she was willing to push to make Lucien Volkov see her again.