His Crimson Obsession

Chapter two — A spark

Nigel's POV

At the gala:

Gala nights were nothing but theater. Gold-draped halls, chandeliers glittering like constellations. A sea of expensive perfume barely masked the stench of corruption. Every guest smiled too wide, laughed too loudly, clutched their champagne like it was holy water fending off demons.

The demons were already here. Dressed in designer suits and silk gowns. And I? I was the devil.

Vato trailed behind me, his black suit tailored to perfection, broad frame carving a path through the crowd. Lora had slipped inside hours ago, blending in like a predator waiting for her cue. Luke—quiet, unreadable Luke—posted himself by the bar, scanning, listening, picking up whispers most men would never catch.

I didn’t need their reports to know: half the men here wanted to shake my hand, the other half wanted to slit my throat. Not out of hatred, but fear. They feared me. They feared the dirt I held—the bribery, the cover-ups, the corruption. All of it mine to spill. With a snap of my fingers, their empires could crumble.

“Smile, Prince,” Vato murmured at my side, a grin tugging at his scarred mouth. “It’s a party.”

I adjusted my cufflinks, unimpressed. “It’s a battlefield in silk.”

He chuckled. “Fair enough.”

Across the room, I spotted my father, hands draped around two blonde women with breasts too large for their frames—pathetic. Our father-son relationship was nothing short of rotten. He knew why I hated him, and in a desperate attempt at forgiveness, he handed me his throne. But that wouldn’t cool the fire and loath I have for him. I could kill him—but not yet. He was still a useful pawn in my game.

Vato handed me a glass of champagne.

“Old geezer really knows how to put on a show,” he scoffed.

“That’s the only thing keeping him from being six feet under,” I replied, voice sharp with disdain.

Sipping, I asked, “What’s the room looking like?” I could feel the stares—heated, hostile—burning into me.

“All the West Division elites are here. The chance of an attack is slim, but with you present… not so much. Every bastard here wants your head.”

I smirked, and Vato caught it.

“Relax. I’ve got men placed all over the mansion. No one’s dumb enough to stage a suicide mission.”

“I wish they would,” I muttered. “It’s starting to get boring.”

And then, across the glittering sea of faces, I saw Serena. Her blue silk dress clung to her like sin, champagne flute in hand, smirk sharp enough to cut glass. She swayed through the crowd, hips deliberate, stopping just inches from me. The daughter of a corrupt politician. A spoiled nepo baby. A decent f**k once—until she got clingy.

“Nigel,” she purred, tilting her head back to meet my gaze. “You do know how to make an entrance.”

I gave her a thin smile. “I don’t make entrances. I make statements.”

Her laugh was low, seductive, meant only for me. “And here I thought you came to enjoy yourself. Unless…” Her fingers grazed my arm, bold and hungry. “You came for me?”

Before I could answer, Lora appeared out of no where, her presence sharp and unyielding. “Careful, Serena,” she said smoothly, her tone lashed with venom. “The Prince doesn’t tolerate pawns pretending to be queens.”

Serena’s smirk faltered, though only for a split second. “I was just catching up with an old friend. We used to be close, you know.”

Lora leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for me to hear. “Yeah. Back when you were useful.”

Luke arrived, quiet as always. His eyes flicked between Serena and me, then down to her trembling hand around the glass. “She’s nervous,” he said softly—meant for me, not her.

I held Serena’s gaze. Luke was right. Beneath the sultry act, her pulse frantic, her perfume too strong, her smile just a little too sharp. She wasn’t here for me. She was here for leverage.

And I never allowed leverage.

“Enjoy the party, Serena,” I said coolly, brushing past her. “It may be your last.”

Her hand twitched, nearly dropping the glass.

I left her, wandering toward the balcony doors. My champagne remained untouched as I watched them all—the so-called nobles of this rotten world. Wolves in velvet. The orchestra played something light, almost playful, but it only highlighted my boredom. I’d come hoping for a little entertainment, but aside from Serena, no one dared approach me. And that was exactly how it should be.

Until—

A crash ripped through the ballroom. Music screeched to a halt. Conversations died. Every eye snapped toward the source.

Serena.

Alcohol dripped down her perfect designer dress. She looked like a drowned dog.

“You f*****g b***h!” she screamed, voice lased with fury.

A waitress bowed frantically. “I’m sorry, ma’am, it was an accident!”

Serena whipped her head around, her eyes hunting—for me. “Accident? You ruined my dress, you lowlife! Do you even know how much this costs? You crazy b***h!”

Pathetic. She was putting on a performance, and I was the audience she craved.

“Ma’am, you walked into me,” the waitress said firmly. “You saw me coming. You did it on purpose.”

Serena’s eyes burned. She shoved the girl hard, sending her falling.

Then she sneered down at the waitress. “Do you have a death wish? Know your place, you ugly wretch.” She grabbed a bottle and emptied it over the girl’s head.

The crowd gathered, whispering, watching. No one intervened. They never did not that I mind.

The girl straightened slowly, wiping wine from her face. Her eyes locked on Serena’s with a glare that could cut stone. And that’s when I noticed her.

Not just her defiance. Her beauty. Raw. Real. Eyes the color of storm clouds, dark and endless. A sharp chin, lips that held venom. Brown hair tied back carelessly, strands escaping to frame her face in a way that felt almost intimate.

And damn if that didn’t stir something in me.

The girl steadied herself, wiped her hands on her skirt, then—

Slap.

The sound cracked through the ballroom like a gunshot.

Serena staggered, clutching her cheek, stunned.

The waitress stood tall, fire blazing in her gaze. “Try that again,” she said, voice cold and dangerous. “And I’ll break the other side of your f*****g face.”

Gasps rippled through the room. Whispers. Shock. Disbelief.

And me?

I couldn’t stop the smirk curling on my lips.

Finally. Something worth my time.