She Was the Treasure All Along novel Chapter 81

Their cheeks were nearly touching, breath mingling in the narrow space between them.

In the instant their eyes met, Loyce caught the calm in Lucian’s—an unshakable steadiness that said he already had everything under control. The moment she’d mentioned an assassin, he hadn’t looked surprised at all.

Loyce loosened her grip. “So you knew.”

Lucian stayed exactly where she’d pulled him—head dipped, body angled forward in a slight bend, like he didn’t mind being held there.

“Call it a soldier’s instinct.” His gaze flicked over her face, amused. “But your reflexes are sharp too. Back when you were with the Sampson family, did your adoptive brothers teach you that?”

She could tell now. He was confident, which meant she could finally breathe. The tension in her shoulders melted. “They didn’t teach me anything. I’m just naturally gifted, born with good instincts.”

Lucian lowered his eyes, the corner of his mouth curving. “I know you’re brilliant. And I know you were worried about me, worried enough to come running into danger.”

Loyce lifted a brow, studying his unfairly handsome face, then reached out and pinched his chin between her fingers.

If anyone else had been in the private lounge, jaws would’ve hit the floor. This was basically playing with fire.

Lucian didn’t move, only the muscles beneath his suit tightened, a restrained heat flashing through his composure.

“Aren’t I right?” he asked.

Loyce’s thumb brushed slowly along his jawline, her voice low. “With your condition and your rank, you shouldn’t even be at a second-rate charity gala like this. A Navy admiral, suddenly interested in jewelry that rich kids fawn over?”

She paused, then looked up. “Lucian Shapiro… you came because of me, didn’t you?”

She used his full name, no polite distance, no professional coolness, just the charged, wordless contest between two adults who both knew what they were doing.

The lounge door swung open. Robert dragged a corpse inside. “Sir, it’s handled—”

He froze mid-sentence, eyes widening. He’d been outside quietly cleaning up an assassin, and in here his boss had his chin in the young doctor’s hand, the two of them very obviously in the middle of something.

Loyce turned. Lucian’s gaze slid over too.

Robert backpedaled like his life depended on it. “Sorry—sorry. Please, continue. Continue!”

He yanked the door shut again.

Loyce released Lucian and stepped away. The clean, faintly sweet scent that clung to her vanished from his nose, and he felt an irrational flicker of regret.

“Since your people can handle it,” she said, “I’m leaving.”

“I’ll walk you out.” Lucian rose, smoothed his suit, and came to her side. “The best part of the auction is already over. There’s nothing worth staying for.”

They stepped into the corridor. Robert was still hauling the body away like it was routine—too practiced for it to be his first time. So many factions wanted Lucian dead it was probably impossible to count.

Loyce didn’t ask who’d sent the killers. Lucian, on the other hand, brought it up casually as they headed downstairs, like it was gossip to pass the time.

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