Taming Maximilian Cross

Chapter 2: Undoing

Evelyn sighed while the wistfulness faded from her eyes as she turned to face Luka. The sunrise painted her in gold, but her expression had already hardened back into the cool, unreadable mask she wore so well.

“Don’t tell anyone about what I said,” she murmured, adjusting her jacket. “Especially not my father. He’ll start worrying again and once he starts, he won’t stop.”

Luka nodded, understanding the unspoken command beneath her softness. She gave him a faint smile, one that almost said thank you, before brushing past him and heading toward the car.

But before she could reach for the handle, her phone buzzed in her pocket. Evelyn frowned and answered it immediately.

“Miss Liroux!” a man’s voice barked from the other end, breathless and tense. “We found one of the items from your father’s shipment. It’s being sold in The Viper’s Den.”

Her steps froze. The name alone made Luka tense behind her.

“The Viper’s Den?” she repeated, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous calm. The breeze caught her hair again, tugging it across her face, but her eyes had gone cold.

“Yes, ma’am,” the man continued. “Our informant just confirmed it. Word is spreading fast that the Den’s auctioning it tonight.”

Evelyn’s grip tightened around the phone, knuckles whitening. The Viper’s Den wasn’t just any black market. It was 'the' black market, a fortress of secrets and trades that even her father’s men rarely dared to enter. It was run by the kind of people who didn’t answer to anyone, not even to the Liroux empire.

“Send me the coordinates,” she said quietly.

“Miss—”

“Now.”

There was a pause before a nervous breath, then, “Yes, ma’am.” The line went dead.

Evelyn lowered the phone slowly, eyes narrowing.

Luka watched her carefully. “You’re not thinking of—”

“Of course I am,” she cut in, slipping the phone back into her pocket. “If The Viper’s Den has my father’s goods, then someone’s bold enough to challenge us.” She turned her head slightly as her grin returned in a dangerous, feral, and almost playful manner. “And I’d love to see who that someone is.”

The wind picked up, and the sound of the waves crashed harder against the rocks below as if echoing her intent.

“Let's dress me up,” she ordered, stepping toward the car. “We’re going to the Den.”

Luka hesitated, jaw tightening. “Miss, that place is dangerous for you.”

She opened the car door and glanced at him over her shoulder, that same reckless gleam back in her eyes. “Oh please, I'm a VIP.”

She slid into the car, slamming the door shut like the sealing of fate. The engines roared to life, and as the convoy pulled away from the cliff, the rising sun disappeared behind a wall of cloud, leaving the road ahead washed in shadow.

And far in the distance, a man stood in a dimly lit room, staring at a screen that showed her car speeding down the coastal road. His lips curved into a faint, knowing smile.

-------

The Viper’s Den was filled with luxury. Every inch of the grand hall exuded danger disguised as wealth with its polished obsidian floors, velvet drapes in midnight hues, and a chandelier that scattered light like shattered stars. The air hummed with low conversation, expensive perfume, and the faint burn of whiskey.

Men in tailored suits stood in small clusters, masks concealing most of their faces. Laughter rolled soft and false. Every deal struck here came with a price someone else would pay.

Then suddenly, the doors opened.

The sound wasn’t loud, but it was enough. Conversations faltered and heads turned as Evelyn Liroux stepped inside.

Her gown was crimson silk, the kind that flowed with every step as though it had been sewn to move only with her. The twin front slits traced the length of her legs, revealing glimpses of her skin which made her a full-on temptation. A half-mask, black and delicately gilded, covered most of her face, leaving only the curve of her mouth and one high cheekbone visible.

Her lips were painted the color of wine, and they tilted into a faint smile as every eye in the room followed her. She didn’t hurry. Her stride was measured, confident, as the click of her heels sliced through the murmurs like music.

A waiter approached with a tray of champagne. She plucked a glass from it without looking, her fingers brushing the stem with careless ease. “Thank you,” she murmured, her tone smooth enough to make the man momentarily forget how to breathe.

As she moved deeper into the hall, the crowd shifted unconsciously to make way. Some of the men whispered behind their masks while others simply stared. No one in the underworld wore red unless they intended to be... noticed.

Evelyn stopped near the center of the room, her eyes sweeping over the scene as if appraising it. Beneath the mask, her expression was calm, but her mind was already working. Every corner, every guard, every potential buyer, she read them all like a map.

She raised the champagne to her lips and the glass caught the chandelier’s fractured light. “Quite the crowd,” she said softly, her voice carrying just enough to reach those nearest.

No one dared answer except Luka, who hovered a step behind her like a shadow trying to blend into the light she drew.

“Miss, should we sit at the back?” he asked quietly, already aware of the stares fixed on her from every corner of the hall.

Evelyn’s lips curved into a soft chuckle. “Luka,” she said, “find me a seat in the front. I want to properly see the things they’ll be auctioning.”

Luka hesitated, but only for a breath. The air had changed around them and the conversation dimmed, curiosity rippled through the crowd. Men who moments ago had been discussing secret things and new alliances now found their focus captured by the woman in scarlet.

There was something about her they couldn’t name. Not merely beauty, but command and that tempted them to want what they knew they shouldn’t. The mysterious woman before them wasn’t there to be desired, yet every one of them did.

Evelyn moved toward the front, the fabric of her gown whispering against the marble. She didn’t hurry, she didn’t need to. Each step was an unspoken claim on the room itself. When she reached her seat, she sat with effortless grace, the faintest smile touching her lips as the weight of their attention settled where she wanted it.

Luka took his place at her side, still uneasy. “You’re drawing attention,” he murmured.

But Eve merely chuckled.

“Let them look. Men lose their wits over pretty things, and I’ve never minded being someone’s undoing.”