Lucia's teeth sank into the crispy chicken thigh with triumphant satisfaction. Malcolm's retreating footsteps echoed down the corridor, and she couldn't help but snicker. If her little stunt had managed to piss him off so much that he stormed out of the dining room, there was no telling how far she could push him. The thought brought a gleam to her eyes as she reached for her orange juice.
"Asshole," she muttered under her breath, taking a long gulp.
Malcolm Sterling thought he could intimidate her with his seven ridiculous rules and his stone-cold demeanor? Not a chance. If anything, his arrogance only fueled her desire to prove that she wouldn't be cowed. She chewed deliberately, relishing every bite of her meal like it was a personal victory.
As she finished her food, she leaned back in her chair, a small smile tugging at her lips. He has no idea what's coming, she thought, her fingers tapping lightly on the table.
---
Lucia was deep in the throes of a beautiful dream when her world was abruptly shattered.
The sound of her bedroom door flying open startled her awake. She blinked groggily, confusion clouding her mind as three women—maids, apparently—stormed into her room.
"What the hell is this?" she groaned, sitting up and clutching the duvet tightly.
One of the maids, a petite woman with her hair neatly tucked into a bun, spoke with a forced politeness. "Good morning, Mrs. Sterling. We've been instructed to prepare you for the day."
Lucia stared at them, baffled and irritated. "Instructed by who?"
"By Mr. Sterling, ma'am."
At the mention of Malcolm's name, Lucia's blood boiled. The audacity of that man! He couldn't bother to send anyone to help with her suitcases yesterday, but now he was sending a brigade to disturb her precious sleep?
"Get out!" she barked, pointing to the door.
The maids hesitated, glancing at one another as though unsure of how to proceed.
"Did you not hear me? I said GET OUT!"
The tallest maid, evidently the leader of the trio, cleared her throat. "Ma'am, Mr. Sterling was very specific in his instructions. We are to ensure you are awake and ready by—"
Lucia didn't let her finish. "I don't care what Mr. Sterling said. I'll wake up when I damn well please!"
But the maids didn't budge. If anything, they seemed more determined.
Lucia threw back the duvet and swung her legs over the side of the bed, her disheveled hair falling into her face. "Where is he?" she demanded.
---
Malcolm was seated in the living room, his legs crossed and his eyes glued to his MacBook. The early morning light filtered through the large windows, casting an ethereal glow over the pristine furniture. He looked utterly unbothered, completely immersed in whatever business occupied his screen.
"Malcolm Sterling!"
The roar of her voice startled him, and he glanced up briefly before returning his focus to the laptop.
Lucia stormed down the stairs, her hands balled into fists at her sides. She was still in her rumpled pajamas, her hair a tangled mess, but she didn't care.
"Are you deaf, Malcolm?" she snapped as she reached the bottom of the staircase.
He didn't even flinch. "Good morning to you too, Mrs. Sterling."
"Don't you dare 'good morning' me!" she spat. "What is the meaning of sending those... those minions into my room? Have you lost your mind?"
Malcolm continued typing, his calm demeanor only fueling her anger.
"You're unbelievable," she seethed. "You can send them to ruin my morning, but you couldn't send anyone to help with my bags yesterday? Pathetic."
Still, no response.
Lucia's eyes narrowed as she searched for something—anything—that would provoke a reaction. Then, like a spark igniting a flame, the words flew from her mouth before she could stop them.
"No wonder you got dumped."
The effect was instantaneous. Malcolm's fingers froze mid-typing, his jaw tightening visibly. In one swift motion, he slammed the MacBook shut and set it aside.
Before Lucia could process what was happening, he was on his feet, closing the distance between them in long, deliberate strides.
"Lucia Scott," he said, his voice low and dangerous. "You're playing a very risky game."
"Am I?" she retorted, though her voice wavered slightly.
His hand shot out, wrapping loosely around her neck—not tight enough to hurt, but enough to send a clear message.
"Stop. Getting. On. My. Nerves," he growled.
Lucia's heart pounded in her chest, but she refused to let fear show. She slapped his hand away with all the strength she could muster.
"Don't touch me," she hissed. "And while we're at it, tell your people to stay out of my room. I don't care what your ridiculous rules say."
She turned on her heel, her chin held high as she marched toward the stairs.
"Lucia."
Malcolm's voice boomed behind her, stopping her in her tracks.
"We're visiting my mother today."
She turned slowly, one eyebrow raised in defiance. "Excuse me?"
"It's tradition," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. "As newlyweds, we're expected to visit my mother. And it's not just her. Expect uncles, aunts... the whole lot."
Lucia stared at him, her mind racing. Meeting Dorothy Sterling was one thing—she could handle Malcolm's mother. But the prospect of facing the extended Sterling clan?
"Oh, joy," she muttered under her breath, her sarcasm dripping with disdain.
Malcolm smirked, clearly enjoying her discomfort. "Be ready by noon."
---
Lucia trudged back to her room, muttering curses under her breath. If this was how Malcolm Sterling planned to start their married life, he was in for a rude awakening.
As she slammed the door behind her, she took a deep breath to steady her nerves.
Fine, she thought. If he wants a fight, I'll give him one. But I'm not going down without a damn good fight.