Lucia stepped out of the closet, her face painted with clear disappointment. "Malcolm Sterling," she called, her voice carrying just the right amount of challenge to spark his curiosity. She stood before him, her arms crossed. "I couldn't find you anything casual. I think you need to change your wardrobe before you start talking about changing mine."
Malcolm raised a brow, stunned at her audacity. "What do you mean you couldn't find me an outfit?"
She gestured dramatically toward the closet. "Suits, suits, and more suits. That's all there is. You don't own anything remotely casual. It's like you're allergic to the idea of being comfortable."
His jaw tightened, but amusement glimmered faintly in his eyes. "Lucia Scott," he said in a low growl, stepping closer, "you're something else."
He brushed past her, striding into the closet with purpose. She trailed after him, curious to see how he'd defend himself. Malcolm stopped and gestured to the neatly arranged rows of dark, impeccably tailored suits.
"What are these?" he demanded, pointing as though they were treasures of a lost empire.
Lucia blinked innocently. "Suits," she replied, batting her lashes.
"Exactly. And why couldn't you pick one?"
She shrugged. "Because they're all the same. Same colors, same cut. The ties, the shoes—it's like they were all designed to put people to sleep. The only variety in here is your watch collection."
Malcolm's lips twitched, but he schooled his features into his usual commanding expression. "Lucia, I do not need casuals. I am Malcolm Sterling. Now pick something."
Rolling her eyes, she turned back to the closet, mumbling under her breath. "Malcolm Sterling needs to go into extinction with his dinosaur wardrobe."
The man in question crossed his arms, watching her like a hawk. As she moved between the racks of suits, he couldn't help but notice the subtle sway of her hips, the way her slim frame moved with a natural grace.
Lucia selected a suit, forcing a smile as she held it up. "Happy now?"
Malcolm smirked. "Thrilled."
She narrowed her eyes but didn't say anything. Instead, she turned back to the closet, placing a shoe box back on the upper shelf. She stood on her toes, the hem of her already short gown riding up, revealing more than she intended.
Malcolm's sharp intake of breath echoed in the small space. Before she could lower her heels, he was behind her, his presence overwhelming and impossibly close.
"What the hell are you doing to me, Lucia?" he growled, his voice low and rough.
Lucia froze, her breath hitching as she felt the heat radiating from him.
"Why are you making me want to do things I shouldn't?" he whispered, his tone dangerously soft.
Lucia turned her head slightly, her eyes wide as she whispered back, "Malcolm... what are you doing?"
Instead of answering, he slid his hands to her waist, pulling her back against him. "You're a temptress, Lucia. And you don't even realize it."
She opened her mouth to protest, but the words died on her lips when his fingers found her belly button, teasing the sensitive skin there. A small, involuntary moan escaped her, and she hated herself for it.
"Grind on me," he commanded, his lips brushing her neck.
"What?" she stammered, heat flooding her cheeks.
"You heard me."
For a moment, her body betrayed her, moving against him in slow, hesitant motions. But then her mind caught up with her actions, and she froze.
"Malcolm, I can't," she said, her voice shaky but resolute. "I don't think we should do this."
Malcolm's grip tightened slightly, his lips brushing her ear. "Remember the rules from last night? You shall fulfill your marital duties."
Before she could argue, he spun her around and captured her lips with his. Lucia's eyes widened in shock, but Malcolm was relentless. He coaxed her mouth open, his kiss growing deeper and more demanding.
Her hands found his shoulders, pushing weakly at first, but soon her resistance melted away. She clung to him, her fingers threading through his dark hair. For a moment, she forgot everything—where they were, who they were, and the twisted circumstances that had brought them together.
Malcolm groaned as he lifted her off the ground, her legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He backed her against the wall of the closet, his lips never leaving hers.
Lucia was lost in a whirlwind of sensations. His touch was fire, his kiss an all-consuming storm. She hated herself for wanting more, for letting herself fall deeper into this dangerous game.
"Malcolm," she murmured against his lips, "this is..."
Whatever she was about to say was cut off by a sharp knock at the bedroom door.
Neither of them moved, too caught up in their own world. The knock came again, louder this time.
"Mr. Sterling?" a voice called hesitantly.
Malcolm growled low in his throat, clearly displeased at the interruption.
"Mr. Sterling, it's Morgan. I need to—"
The door creaked open, and Lucia gasped, quickly burying her face in Malcolm's chest.
"Damn it," Malcolm muttered, setting her down gently but keeping her shielded behind him.
Morgan stepped into the room, his eyes going wide as he realized what he'd walked in on. "I—I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to... interrupt."
"You'd better have a damn good reason for being here," Malcolm said, his tone icy.
Morgan swallowed nervously. "There's an urgent call for you. From Mr. Fitzroy."
Malcolm sighed, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Fine. I'll take it in my study. Get out."
Morgan didn't need to be told twice. He disappeared, closing the door behind him.
Lucia peeked around Malcolm, her face still flushed. "That was... mortifying."
Malcolm turned to her, his expression unreadable. For a moment, he simply stared at her, his dark eyes searching hers. Then he smirked, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"This isn't over, Mrs. Sterling," he said softly, his voice dripping with promise.
Lucia's heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to glare at him. "It is for now, Mr. Sterling. Go answer your call."
Malcolm chuckled, the sound low and dangerous. "As you wish. But don't think for a second that I'm done with you."
He left the room, leaving Lucia alone in the aftermath of their heated encounter. She sank onto the edge of the bed, her mind racing.
"What the hell have I gotten myself into?" she whispered, her fingers brushing her swollen lips.
Whatever it was, she knew one thing for certain: Malcolm Sterling was a storm she might not survive.