Chapter Seven
874 Words
Evangeline sat in the café long after Lucian had left, the envelope lying untouched on the table in front of her. It felt like a time bomb, waiting to detonate the moment she opened it. She wanted to ignore it, to pretend it didn’t exist, but she knew that was impossible. Lucian had never been one to give her an easy way out.
With a resigned sigh, she reached for the envelope and peeled it open. Inside was a single piece of thick ivory paper with elegant handwriting that sent a shiver down her spine.
Tonight. 8 PM. Dante’s Club. Don’t be late.
No signature. No explanation. But she didn’t need one. The name alone told her everything she needed to know.
Dante’s Club.
Lucian’s domain.
Her fingers clenched around the paper. He was trying to drag her back into his world, to remind her of the power he held over her.
But she wasn’t the same woman who had walked away from him. She wasn’t naive anymore.
At least, that’s what she told herself.
She should ignore the invitation. She should walk away and let Lucian realize that she wasn’t his to summon anymore.
But deep down, she knew she would go. Because Lucian never made requests—only demands. And if she didn’t show up, he would find another way to pull her back in. A way that left her with even less control.
Sighing, she tucked the envelope into her purse and left the café, her heart pounding with a mix of anger, anticipation, and something far more dangerous.
By the time night fell, Evangeline found herself standing outside Dante’s Club, a grand, imposing building that reeked of power and exclusivity. The deep red lights above the entrance bathed the sidewalk in an almost sinister glow, and the line of people waiting to get in stretched down the block.
But Evangeline didn’t need to wait.
The moment she approached, a suited man at the door stepped aside, nodding in acknowledgment. “Mr. Moretti is expecting you.”
Of course he was.
She took a deep breath and stepped inside. The interior was just as decadent as she remembered—dim lighting, plush velvet booths, and a bar stocked with the finest liquor. Music pulsed through the air, a sultry rhythm that made her pulse quicken.
And then she saw him.
Lucian sat in a private section overlooking the club, his presence commanding as ever. He was dressed in black, the open collar of his shirt revealing just a hint of the inked skin beneath. His fingers cradled a glass of whiskey, his expression unreadable as he watched her approach.
“Angel,” he greeted smoothly, his voice wrapping around her like silk. “Right on time.”
She sank into the chair across from him, keeping her posture stiff. “What do you want, Lucian?”
He studied her for a moment, his gaze dark and unreadable. “I wanted to see you.”
She scoffed. “You could have called.”
“I prefer face-to-face meetings.” His lips curled into a smirk. “Much more… intimate.”
Her stomach tightened. She hated how easily he could unsettle her, how effortlessly he slid back into her life as if no time had passed at all.
“I’m not playing your games,” she said, her voice firm. “If you have something to say, say it. Otherwise, I’m leaving.”
Lucian took a slow sip of his drink before setting it down. “You left, Evangeline. Without a word. Without a goodbye.”
Her chest tightened. “Because I needed to.”
His gaze sharpened. “Did you?”
“Yes.”
Silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken words and lingering tension. Finally, Lucian leaned forward, his voice dropping to a low murmur.
“You still belong to me.”
Her breath caught. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
Lucian smirked, as if she had just amused him. “We’ll see about that.”
Before she could respond, he reached for her hand, his fingers brushing over her skin. A jolt of heat shot through her, and she snatched her hand away as if burned.
“I have a life now, Lucian,” she said, forcing herself to sound stronger than she felt. “I’m not the girl who waited around for you anymore.”
“I never wanted you to wait,” he said, his voice softer now. “I wanted you to stay.”
Her heart clenched at the words, but she couldn’t afford to let them affect her. She had made her choice. She had walked away for a reason.
But the problem with Lucian Moretti was that he never let go.
She stood abruptly. “This was a mistake.”
Lucian didn’t stop her. He simply leaned back in his chair, watching her with a knowing expression. “See you soon, angel.”
Her steps faltered, just for a second, before she forced herself to walk away.
But as she stepped out of the club and into the cool night air, she knew one thing with absolute certainty.
Lucian wasn’t done with her yet.
And she wasn’t sure she was done with him either.
- Writer
