Lucian’s Reign

by Mason, V. F.

  I’ve never agreed with the statement more.

  “Not now,” I say, and he nods, spinning around and leaving me alone with my father as Harold trails after him.

  He scans me from head to toe, his eyes glazed from all the alcohol he’s consumed. He reeks of tequila as he steps closer to me. “You have your mother’s smile, you know.” He grins, flips open the journal, and takes out the black-and-white photo, extending it to me as his hand trembles. “See?” I snatch it from him, gazing at the long-haired, beautiful girl laughing into the camera as she wraps her arms around my father’s neck while he kisses her on the cheek. “My beautiful girl.” He kisses the journal, pressing it tighter and then gives it to me as well. “Read it now. She wrote there about you too. First word, first steps. Even the cravings she had during her pregnancy.” His voice hitches on the last part. “I shouldn’t have kept it all to myself.” I grasp it, his grip so strong on the thing though it lets me know he doesn’t want to give it. “When I read it… I imagine her sitting next to me.” Tears stream down his cheeks, and he violently wipes them away. “Telling all this. As if she is still alive. And not dead because of pneumonia.”

  So many unfamiliar emotions clog my throat, my insides screaming to run the fuck out because a monster should not have any feelings.

  However, how can a person withstand the opportunity to learn something about a mother he never knew?

  Also though… I hate all this, because all my anger and resentment aimed at my father seems misplaced now… as hard as it is to admit.

  A seventeen-year-old boy believed his father and gave up on his love. Could I blame him?

  Ironically, I still can, but it doesn’t give me the satisfaction it used to.

  Instead, this situation is just plain sad and unfair like most of my life really.

  What-ifs play in my mind.

  However, what-ifs no longer belong in my life.

  Father finally frees the journal, and I put the photo inside it, shutting it and standing awkwardly while he does the same.

  Then he whispers, “I’m sorry for being weak, son.” He throws himself at me, and I still in shock, his strong arms wrapping tightly around me. “I love you, Lucian. I’m bad at showing it, but I do. I really, really love you. Forgive me for failing you.” He starts crying, soaking my jacket while his entire body shakes.

  Fisting my hands, I raise my arms up and return the embrace for the first time, despite it hurting everything inside me, and let him find the atonement he has begged for ever since he brought me home.

  We are all sinners to a certain degree.

  My father numbs his pain and weakness in alcohol; I kill people, justifying my actions with the words that they are hideous monsters.

  Except killing them is also my weakness, and I will never get atonement for that.

  I forgive my father, forgive him for something he could never control, although it does nothing to soothe the inferno in my soul that only blazes brighter now.

  He cries in my arms for a few more minutes, explaining how he searched everywhere and would have given everything to turn back time and fix his mistakes.

  He sobs so much that at some point, he just sags in my arms, losing consciousness, and I drag him upstairs to his bed.

  I read the whole journal in one night, detesting every word my mother used to describe her love for me, because I grew up to be a villain when she was willing to run away from her luxurious life for me.

  To give me this life because she called me her little prince who one day would meet his father.

  That was her greatest wish for us all, to reunite, except her dream did not come true.

  She wouldn’t be proud of me, and that’s another burden I’ll have to live with forever.

  In the morning, Dad stays home, having breakfast, and I silently put the journal on the table, giving it back to him, and he exhales in relief.

  And we talk about business as if the previous evening never happened, in our usual routine, but without the tension present between us.

  Three months later, my father died in a plane crash, and nothing was ever the same in the Cortez household.

  The mansion became a graveyard to all my grandfather’s hopes and sucked the air out of me for all the things that could have been.

  We couldn’t coexist in the same place. Our combined resentment toward each other and the inability to push past what happened to us both because of his actions made living in the same city impossible.

  So I discovered New York, prospering in the city, while my grandfather still controlled the company for a few more years before he died peacefully in his bed.

  I forgave him eventually; after all, he was the result of his upbringing, and I even visited him from time to time. His pain and my coldness though didn’t make for a good, healing combination or company.

  I finally ascended the throne I so craved and for which my father sacrificed his life, because that’s what we do.

  Family and responsibility above anyone or anything else.

  As loneliness and boredom filled my soul, I wondered if that was the destiny of all men in my family.

  To suffer and die alone but with our principles intact, not daring to do anything out of the norm.

  Over the years, I didn’t just agree but understood the statement too.

  Because indeed.

  Heavy is the head that wears the crown.

  Esmeralda

  “This habit becomes the norm it seems,” I mutter as I wave the note Lucian once again has left behind, informing me he had an emergency in his company, so he had to go there this morning. “And it annoys me greatly.” Although my body still tingles in all the places after our night together. We’ve finally bonded on a soul-deep level because my villain came to me with his open wounds, allowing me to see into his dark heart.

  Still.

  Am I destined to wake up alone every single time we make love?

  Crushing the note and throwing it in the bin, I check myself in the mirror one last time, twirling around and appreciating how the jeans hug my legs, and since Lucian had no shirts for me in yet another bag, I had to snag his.

  Wrapping the ends of the shirt in a knot on my waist, I quickly go downstairs, clipping my hair up on the way, and exhale in relief when I detect the smell of tea wafting in the air.

  My sneakers tap on the floor, alerting the two men in the kitchen who jump up from the table, though I see they’re not wearing a uniform today, and their eyes are red-rimmed.

  Well, someone for sure had fun with the scotch last night.

  Ricardo orders, “Not a word,” using his stern grandpa tone that he hadn’t dared before. Then he snatches a plate and puts several waffles on it.

  Harold wraps his hand around his coffee and inhales the fragrance. After he takes a tentative sip, he nods at me. “Good morning, Esmeralda.”

  Wow, I’m even Esmeralda now.

  He must read amused surprise on my face as he drops back on his chair, explaining. “Today is Sunday. I’m off duty and can act as I damned well wish.”

  So they get one day in this house to say and do whatever they want without having to put on a polite persona to the world?

  Oh, that’s just awesome.

  Suddenly, all Sundays start to look really fun.

  “You tell them, Harold,” I say, winking at him, and he laughs along with Ricardo who brings my plate and mug to me, placing them on the table. “I have a feeling we three having breakfast together will become a tradition in this house.”

  Harold huffs, sipping his coffee. “I’ve tried teaching manners to this boy for more than twenty years, and he still doesn’t listen to me.”

  After pouring strawberry syrup on my waffle, I dig in as Ricardo continues the rant, drumming his fingers on the wood. “Would it be so hard for him just once to have breakfast with us all? Stubborn as Alejandro and Juan.”

  “Worse!” the butler exclaims while I just nod and munch on the delicious waffle melting on my ton
gue, barely restraining myself from bursting out laughing. Right now, they are just two grumpy old men complaining about the younger generation. “At least he married you right away. Juan didn’t even do that!”

  My husband has yet to share things about his family and the pain he harbors inside from them, so I mark the whole marriage thing to ask him about later.

  “True.” Ricardo snags Harold’s mug, takes a few sips, and then exhales. “We need to retire.”

  “Yes, preferably ask him to buy some beach house in California and move away.”

  “He doesn’t eat my breakfast anyway.”

  Apparently, that’s the greatest sin to Ricardo.

  Drinking my tea, I watch them silently as they clearly do not need my comments, and glance at the clock hanging on the wall.

  I have five more minutes before the driver shows up. Lila called an hour ago and woke me up, reminding me to get my ass ready.

  For a woman who just became my manager, she sure is bossy.

  After a prolonged silence in which only my fork tapping against the plate echoes through the room as I finish my food, Harold finally speaks up. “We might have a little Cortez running around here soon.” I almost choke on my tea at this, placing my free hand on my stomach as an odd and unfamiliar sensation spreads through me at the idea of carrying our baby.

  Yet fear pierces through me, because I’ve never considered bringing a child into a world that makes him so vulnerable to all the evilness it possesses.

  But we haven’t used any protection, so chances are I could already be pregnant.

  Oh God.

  The men are unaware about the havoc their conversation has inspired as they continue.

  “I can cook them treats.”

  “They might be nicer than Lucian.”

  “Oh! I don’t think I want to retire now, Harold.”

  “Me neither.”

  A collective exhale issues from them, and I shake my head, gulping my tea as they grin at each other, happy with the decision they just made.

  Although, the idea of my child having two grandfathers who would adore him or her warms my heart.

  Ah, once you marry a villain nothing stays the same.

  On cue, the doorbell rings, and I get up. “The driver is here.” Harold stands up as well, probably wanting to walk me to the door. “No need, you have the day off today. Relax.” Then I address Ricardo. “Thank you, the food was delicious. If Lucian comes back before I’m home, remind him I went to check out the building please.”

  Spinning around, I race to the door as the doorbell rings again and open it, plastering a smile on my face, only to frown in confusion when I see a tall man on the other side wearing jeans and a sweater.

  He has sunglasses on, and his hair is combed back as he grins at me; however, somehow it sends horrible shivers down my spine, and I want to cover myself from his prying eyes—even through the sunglasses. “Esmeralda,” he greets me while I freeze, stepping back a little, and bump into Harold, who followed me despite my protest.

  Esmeralda.

  Only close friends call me by this name, as most of the world addresses me by Rebecca.

  “Who are you?”

  “Lila didn’t call?” he asks with surprise and removes his sunglasses, giving me a view of his predatory orbs that glimmer under the sunshine yet stay absolutely cold. “I’m showing you the building today.” After a beat, he elaborates, “I had a chat with her this morning, and she mentioned wanting to pick you up, and since my office is in the neighborhood, I figured I could swing by.” He looks at Harold. “How are you, man? Didn’t have the chance to talk to you last night.”

  I glance at the butler and see recognition in his gaze, although he doesn’t break into his usual pleasantries. “Alec.” He says his name. “Not since your fight with Lucian all those years ago.” Coldness coats his voice, and I groan inwardly, wondering how many old friends Lucian fought with roam around.

  My man sure gets rid of anyone who doesn’t follow his rules or moral code.

  Alec waves his hand in dismissal. “Water under the bridge. He did invite me to the party last night, right?” Harold’s brows furrow, and the man focuses his stare on me again. “Anyhow, if you are still interested, let’s go. But if you’re uncomfortable, we can call Lila and ask for that driver.” His words and tone stay even, his posture relaxed, yet I cannot help but feel threatened by his presence.

  And I hate myself for it, because the world shouldn’t be a place where I’m afraid or question everything.

  My friend sent this man to me, and he certainly mingles among our circle, coming here in the light of day, so why would he do it if his intentions were harmful?

  Be brave, Esme.

  I promised myself to start fresh and anew in Chicago, so I’ll be brave and explore this life that’s a precious gift.

  Not a cage where I have boundaries I can’t cross for fear of someone hurting me.

  “That won’t be necessary. Let’s go.”

  “Esmeralda, maybe—” Harold starts as I place my hand on his chest, patting it lightly.

  “Everything is fine. I’ll be back soon.”

  He nods and then glares in warning at Alec who shrugs, either used to people not liking him much due to the creepy aura he emits, or he simply does not give a shit about anyone’s feelings.

  The door closes behind me, and we quickly walk to his car, get inside, and I fasten my seatbelt, gripping the door handle tighter when he speeds up so fast my head hits the seat.

  “Sorry. Just bought this baby.” He moves his hands smoothly over the leather steering wheel.

  “Congratulations,” I mutter, turning my attention to the scenery outside so hopefully he gets the hint and stops talking to me.

  My hope falls on deaf ears though.

  “I’ve seen some of your work in New York; it’s amazing. Such a young age, such a big talent.” An odd note coats his tone, and I glance at him, but his expression stays the same. He looks straight ahead since we get on the narrow road probably leading to town. “In fact, I’m a bit jealous.”

  My brows shoot up in surprise. “Jealous? Why?” I’m not sure what he does in life. But considering his expensive car and the gold watch wrapped around his wrist, he must be rich.

  “I’m an artist myself.”

  “Oh.”

  He takes a hard turn to the right, making me lean on the door, and we head into the deep woods; however, it still has an asphalt road, so I stay calm. It must be a shortcut. “I’d never make a living out of it though.”

  “You’ll never know until you try.”

  He chuckles. “My first and last masterpiece took me ten years to finish, and I’m still not done.”

  Masterpiece.

  My stomach flips and goose bumps break on my skin. The hairs on my body stand on end, and I shift uncomfortably, yet the guy stays calm, smiling at me. “Soon though it will be done, and maybe then I can hang it in one of your galleries.” A beat passes, and while he makes yet another turn, taking us farther and farther between the heavy trees brushing their branches over the ground, he asks, “Would you like that?”

  “Lila is my manager, so she’ll get to decide such stuff from now on.” Glancing around, I don’t see the way ahead. We’re driving on a bumpy road now. “Where are you taking me?”

  “To the building I wanted to show you all along.” The way he words it sounds as if I’m insane for even asking such a question.

  “Lila told me it’s in the center of the town.” Why would I want to open a gallery in the freaking woods? Did they misunderstand each other? “I’m afraid I’m not interested in the building if it’s here.” Clearing my throat, I say, “Please take me back home.”

  Alec clacks his tongue, pressing on the accelerator more and driving forward, not paying attention to my protest. “You have to see it for yourself first, Esmeralda.” His hold on the steering wheel tightens, his knuckles turning white, and his voice dropping a few octaves. “You have to see it. I
t’s beautiful.”

  Alarm bells ring loudly in my head as the familiar fear present in me for the last ten years rears its head. I stare around to see that the man has taken me to the middle of nowhere, and I willingly got in his damned car!

  Breathing through the panic swirling in the pit of my stomach, I try my best to relax and stop imagining hideous pictures just because the man next to me acts a little bit suspicious.

  Maybe my own trauma rules me right now, and the man simply wants to show me his building in the hope of me falling in love with it.

  I open my mouth to say something as the silence between us weighs heavily in the car’s closed interior when the oak trees open up to a view of a two-level house.

  A square-shaped regular-sized house that would so easily fit in with any suburban backdrop. It has a white-picket fence, brown colors covering its walls, and a swing occupies the porch, swaying slightly in the breeze.

  Perfectly cut grass surrounds it as it stands right in the middle of the woods. A few birds chirp on the roof, basking in the sunshine.

  The sight of all this pushes my breakfast to the surface, threatening to hurl all over my lap as paralyzing fear fills every cell in my body, and I cannot utter a single word or move because I’m terrified of the man sitting next to me.

  My heart gallops inside my chest. I feel the pulse in my throat, and cold sweat breaks on my skin, sliding down my back while the man’s laughter reverberates through the inside of the car.

  The house is an exact replica of my childhood home, down to the cracks on the fence that Dad never got to fix.

  “Welcome home, Esmeralda,” Alec says. “Tonight, we’ll finally finish my masterpiece.”

  My mind finally recognizes the despicable voice that I’ve tried to forget all these years.

  I shouldn’t have tried so hard. Maybe then I wouldn’t have fallen right into his trap!

  “Do you like the surprise I prepared for you?” These words finally snap me out of my stupor, and I press on the handle, ready to bolt from the car and run as far away as possible, shouting my lungs out to whoever listens.

  A click echoes in the air, freezing me on the spot, as he aims his gun at me and whispers, “Nah-ah, darling.” He winks at me, and his face is so clear to me now it inspires a series of flashbacks, showing me in all his hideous glory.