Chapter Three: Velvet Chains
840 Words
The red dress clung to Aria like sin.
She’d put it on with shaking hands, furious at herself the entire time. The fabric slid over her skin like a lover’s whisper—cool, smooth, traitorous. It hugged her hips, revealed just enough cleavage to be indecent, and split high enough on the thigh to make her legs feel like bait.
The cuff on her wrist had been removed—temporarily. Lucien had entered the room thirty minutes ago, silent and unreadable, unlocked the steel bracelet without a word, and handed her a pair of crimson heels.
She’d thrown the shoes at his face.
He’d only smiled.
Now, she stood outside the double doors of the dining room, escorted by a silent guard in black. The man didn’t touch her, but his presence was enough to remind her she wasn’t free.
The doors opened.
Candles flickered along a long obsidian table. A single place was set. Music played low—strings and piano. Romantic, almost haunting.
And at the head of the table sat Lucien.
He looked like power incarnate. Black shirt, no tie, sleeves rolled just enough to show the edge of a tattoo curling up his forearm. He held a glass of red wine, swirling it lazily as he watched her approach.
“Aria,” he said, voice smooth as velvet. “You’re breathtaking.”
She didn’t respond. Her heels clicked against the marble as she walked toward the table, head high, gaze unflinching.
“You’re wasting your time,” she said.
He gestured to the seat across from him. “I’m a patient man.”
She sat stiffly, spine straight. “You’ll never have me.”
Lucien leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Don’t you wonder why you’re still here, Aria? Why I haven’t hurt you? Sold you? Silenced you?”
“I’ve been wondering that since the second I woke up.”
“You fascinate me.”
She snorted. “Because I wrote mean things about you?”
“No. Because you dared to chase me. Because you didn’t blink when you looked into the mouth of the beast.” He tilted his head, studying her. “You want danger. Even if you lie to yourself about it.”
“I want the truth,” she shot back.
“And now you’re living it.”
Their food was brought out—roasted duck, figs, saffron rice, crystal glasses. Aria didn’t touch it.
Lucien ate slowly, unbothered.
After several minutes of tense silence, he said, “You keep trying to convince yourself you’re a victim here. But you’re not. You were curious. You stepped into the fire.”
“I didn’t ask to be taken,” she said.
“No. But you didn’t stop chasing me, either.”
His eyes burned into hers, full of something dark. Possession. Hunger.
Aria felt heat crawl up her neck.
“I should scream,” she said.
“You should,” he agreed. “But you won’t.”
She swallowed hard. He was right.
She hated him—but she couldn’t deny the pull. The weight in the air between them. Like gravity had shifted and he was the center of it all.
Lucien stood and walked around the table slowly. Her pulse raced. He stopped behind her chair, resting one hand on the back, the other lightly on her shoulder.
“You’ve been in my mind for weeks,” he murmured. “Every word you wrote, every photo of you—I memorized it all.”
“Creepy,” she whispered, trying to keep her voice steady.
“Honest,” he corrected. “I don’t pretend. I don’t play fair. I take what I want.”
His fingers brushed her collarbone, light as smoke.
“And you want me?” she asked, breathless.
“I want to see what happens when you stop pretending you don’t want me back.”
Aria stood so fast the chair scraped. Her heart pounded like thunder in her chest.
“I’m not yours,” she said, voice shaking.
Lucien moved in front of her, close—too close.
“No,” he said. “Not yet.”
He cupped her jaw with one hand, the other resting at her waist. Her body betrayed her—leaning in, breath hitching. He smelled like midnight. Tasted like danger.
And then he kissed her.
It wasn’t soft.
It was claiming.
A brutal, dark kiss full of restraint and power, of heat and warning. He didn’t ask permission—he took. And the worst part?
She kissed him back.
Only for a moment. A heartbeat. But her body melted before her mind screamed to fight.
She shoved him hard and slapped him across the face.
Lucien didn’t flinch. He touched his jaw where she’d struck him and smiled.
“More,” he said, low and satisfied. “I want more of that.”
Aria ran from the room.
But his voice followed her, calm and cruel.
“You’ll come back, Aria. You’ll crave the burn.”
- Writer
