Dressed In Thorns❤️‍🔥

Maison Rouge⚡💅

The neon sign outside Maison Rouge buzzed with a low, constant hum, casting a faint crimson glow across the polished marble floor of the penthouse suite. High above Sydney’s skyline, the city looked quiet, almost peaceful, a complete contrast to the chaotic reality down below.

Amber stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling glass, holding a sleek black tablet. She swiped down, watching the calendar grid load.

MONDAY – SUNDAY: Reserved.

Today was no different.

She took a slow breath and studied her schedule for the upcoming week. It had been six months of this exact routine. one high-profile client booked for seven days straight.

Six months of learning how to turn off her thoughts, mask her emotions, and play whatever role was demanded of her.

At first, the sheer dread of it used to leave her numb.

And Now? She barely blinked.

She had adapted.

Every single day in hell is enough to make the devil ruthless, but it is also enough to make an angel ethereal. They learned to fight the dark, she learned how to belong to it without letting it touch what was inside her.

The girl who used to double-check if everyone around her was okay had learned to put on armor before stepping into the room.

A quiet chime echoed from the doorway as the manager tapped on the doorframe, interrupting her thoughts.

"Looking at the lineup?"

Amber didn't turn around, her reflection in the glass staring right back at her, impeccable, composed, and completely unreadable.

"Just checking who owns my time this week."

"He pays premium, Amber," the manager said, walking over to hand her a glass of sparkling water.

"You're officially the top requested name on our roster. Madame made it clear that you're the crown jewel of Maison Rouge now."

An asset.

That’s what she was. Not a person with a past, not a soft girl who once believed in fairytale endings, but a multi-million-dollar venue's most valuable player.

She set the tablet face down on the glass coffee table, the screen going dark.

"Tell him I'll be down in ten," Amber said, her voice smooth, steady, and devoid of the innocence she used to carry.

She glanced back out at the city lights one last time, adjusting the strap of her fitted white dress. The street had claimed her, but as she stepped toward the door, she knew one thing for certain: she was done letting the world break her.

Now, she was the one running the game...

The elevator ride down to the private VIP lounge was quiet.

Amber checked her reflection in the smoked-glass paneling one last time. Her face was untouched, serene.

Too much Innocence...wrapped in sin.

Every angle of her white dress highlighted curves that seemed crafted by design, a striking contrast to the cold, calculating look in her eyes.

She stepped into the suite. The ambient lighting was low, throwing warm amber highlights across plush velvet and dark wood.

Standing by the marble bar, glass of whiskey in hand, was Zane. The mysterious buyer was the one who booked her entire week, leaving her schedule completely full.

He didn't turn around immediately, but he knew the moment the door clicked shut.

The air in the room shifted.

"You're right on time," Zane said, his tone smooth, almost conversational, as he finally turned to face her.

His eyes swept over her, taking in the flawless porcelain look, the soft drift of her hair, and the sharp, untouchable presence beneath it all.

Who wouldn't take a chance to spend a week with an alluring beauty like her?

But Zane didn't look at her like the other clients did; there was no cheap hunger in his gaze.

He looked at her like a strategist eyeing someone who knew how to play the game just as well as he did. He straightened his posture walking straight to her. Slowly.

Step by step.

"Madame said you were the best Maison Rouge had to offer," Zane said, setting his glass on the counter and leaning back slightly.

"Though looking at you now... I doubt 'asset' even covers it." His gaze - sharp yet cold went straight to her soul.

Amber didn't smile. Compliment never had an effect on her. She took two measured steps into the room, her voice steady and laced with an icy charm.

"My time is booked, Zane. You bought the week. So let's skip the small talk. What are we actually doing here?"

Zane smirked, a quiet, dangerous expression that hinted he knew exactly what lay behind her innocent front.

He was playing a game.

A very dangerous one.

"Fair enough," he said, taking a step toward her. "Let's get down to business."

Zane’s eyes never left hers as he raised his glass, the movement slow and deliberate.

"You put up a breathtaking wall," he murmured, the soft clink of his glass against the table puncturing the quiet.

"Ethereal. Untamed. Maison Rouge built a cage, but they forgot to check if the bird inside had talons."

Amber didn't flinch. She stepped forward, invading his space, her untouchable stillness swallowing his volatile energy whole.

"A cage only works if the person inside wants to leave. I don't want to leave, Zane. I own it."

The air turned heavy, thick with unresolved power dynamics and unspoken secrets. Neither broke eye contact.

"Seven days," Zane whispered, a dark vow anchoring the space between them. He raised his glass again, a silent, deadly toast.

"Let's see who breaks first."

The neon sign outside cast a faint, bleeding pulse across Zane's glass, but the real heat was the friction between them.

He thought he was buying an asset. She knew she was setting a trap.

He was a man who broke things until they fit his design; she was a woman who had already survived the dark and come out unshakeable.

A quiet, lethal understanding passed between them.

No rules.

No surrender.

Seven days to see who dominates the board and who is left in ruins when the neon burns out.