THE TRAP
625 Words
The kiss should’ve broken her.
It didn’t.
It forged something darker.
She couldn’t stop thinking about it. Not just his mouth or the way he gripped her like she might vanish if he let go, but what he didn’t say. The silence between his confessions. The shadows beneath his promises.
Back in his penthouse, Ava moved like a ghost through Damien’s world. Clean lines. Dark marble. Security systems buried behind beauty.
But tonight, it wasn’t the walls that unsettled her.
It was him.
Damien sat by the fireplace, drink in hand, shirt unbuttoned just enough to make her forget how angry she was. His silence wasn’t brooding. It was strategic.
She broke it.
“Why didn’t you tell me the truth?”
He didn’t look up. “Because it would’ve made you run.”
“And now?”
His eyes lifted, meeting hers with lethal calm. “Now it’s too late.”
She crossed the room, folding her arms.
“You think keeping me in the dark would protect me?”
“No. I think it would buy me time.”
“For what?”
Damien stood, and the shift in height made her breath hitch.
“Time to make you trust me.”
Her laugh was sharp. “Trust you? After I found out you’ve been manipulating me since Paris?”
His jaw clenched. “You weren’t supposed to be part of this.”
“But I am.”
“Yes.” His voice dropped an octave. “You are. And if you keep pushing, you’ll see the part of me that doesn’t negotiate.”
She stepped closer, daring him. “Then show me.”
He closed the distance between them in two strides, cupping her jaw, his thumb grazing her bottom lip.
“You don’t want that, Ava.”
“Don’t I?”
His grip tightened, just slightly.
“I’ve been patient. I’ve let you get under my skin. But don’t mistake that for softness.”
Her heart thundered. Her body betrayed her with heat she didn’t want to feel.
He kissed her again, but this time slower; calculated. A kiss that promised ruin, not romance.
When he pulled away, her lips throbbed with absence.
“This isn’t love,” she whispered.
“No. It’s power. And that’s the only thing that lasts.”
The next morning, Ava woke alone.
On the pillow beside her, a white envelope. No name.
Inside: a single card with silver-embossed text.
Velvet Initiation. Midnight. Come Alone.
She didn’t ask Damien about it.
He was gone when she woke. As usual.
But something told her this wasn’t another twisted invitation. It was a test.
A trap.
She waited till dark, dressed in black, and slipped out the side exit of the penthouse.
The address led her beneath the city to a door that looked like it belonged in a different century.
She pressed her palm to the scanner.
It opened.
Velvet wasn’t just an organization. It was a temple of sin.
Ava stepped inside and immediately regretted it.
This wasn’t like the ballroom. It was rawer. Underground. People wore masks here too, but they wore less of everything else. Secrets were currency. Bodies, collateral.
She moved through it like a fever dream, searching for something familiar; anything that would tell her she hadn’t lost her mind.
Then she saw her.
A woman in white.
Her face hidden, but her presence unmistakable.
Mother.
Ava froze.
No. It couldn’t be.
Her mother had died years ago. That was what she’d been told. What she’d believed.
But the way the woman turned; too precise. The way she stopped, too intentional.
As if she’d been waiting.
Ava took one step forward.
The woman vanished into the shadows.
And the lights cut out.
- Writer
