THE BLACK VELVET TRAP.

CHAPTER 3

[PRESENTLY]

The transition from the thumping, primal bass of the clubhouse to the soundproofed, leather-scented sanctuary of Drake’s customized luxury vehicle was seamless.

Within minutes, the neon-drenched chaos of the Las Vegas streets melted into a vibrant blur against the heavily tinted windows as Drake guided the machine effortlessly toward the heart of the Strip.

His destination loomed ahead, anchoring the skyline—the crown jewel of the city, a towering, monolithic hotel-casino that stood as an architectural marvel.And he owned every single square inch of it.

When they arrived, the staff mobilized with frantic, submissive efficiency, bowing their heads in silent reverence as Drake bypassed the bustling main lobby.

A standard plastic keycard was beneath him; instead, at the private, velvet-lined executive desk, the manager reverently presented a heavy, polished platinum master fob—the ultimate gateway to the hotel's absolute pinnacle of luxury.

"The VVIP suite," Drake murmured, his voice a low, velvety purr as he guided Irridessa toward the private, high-speed elevator bank. "Floor fifty-two."

The elevator ride was a silent, gravity-defying ascent—a sleek rocket tearing toward the top of the world. When the doors seamlessly glided open on the 52nd floor, Irridessa’s breath caught.

She was met with an opulent hallway that resembled less of a standard hotel passage and more of an elite, high-fashion runway.

The sprawling passageway was breathtakingly stunning, lined with pristine, polished marble and illuminated by an array of brilliant overhead lights that cast a radiant reflection off every immaculate surface,casting a pristine, almost heavenly glow over the entire corridor.

At the terminus of the sprawling hall stood a pair of massive, soundproof double doors. Drake didn’t even reach for the platinum fob. Instead, he casually pressed his thumb against a sleek biometric scanner built flawlessly flush into the wall.

The hidden device whirred with high-tech precision, reading his unique print before emitting a soft, satisfying chime as the indicator light flashed a vibrant, welcoming green.

The heavy, reinforced doors clicked open, unlocking a hidden sanctuary of unparalleled opulence.

Irridessa stepped inside and instantly forgot how to breathe. The suite was

staggeringly magnificent, a flawless masterclass in bespoke, billionaire architecture.

Suspending from the geometric crown of the soaring ceiling was a monumental crystal chandelier.

It was so colossal and intricate it resembled a frozen waterfall of pure, crystalline light, cascading a blinding brilliance into every recessed corner of the space.

Every singular piece of furniture was custom-crafted, juxtaposing polished gold accents against sweeping, floor-to-ceiling panoramic glass that overlooked the entire, blazing neon abyss of the Vegas Strip below.

And commandingly positioned at the center of the master bedroom suite sat the bed—an enormous, cloud-like oasis draped in the most exquisite, liquid-silk sheets, looking every bit as overwhelmingly inviting as it was intensely regal.

Irridessa glided slowly beneath the towering cascade of the crystal chandelier, its blinding light catching the sharp, predatory gleam dancing in her eyes.

She casually ran a manicured finger over a polished gold fixture, keeping her posture intentionally relaxed, fluid, and effortlessly seductive.

But beneath the flawless facade, her mind was aggressively mapping the topography of the room. Fifty-two floors up. Zero easy exits. Just her, a lethal crimelord and the cold promise of hidden steel pressed hard against her thigh.

Drake casually tossed the heavy platinum master fob onto a sleek marble console, the metal echoing sharply in the quiet room. He didn’t look the least bit fatigued; if anything, the electric energy of Sin City seemed to... actively feed his Mafia blood, making his silhouette look even more imposing and statuesque under the brilliant, cascading lights of his penthouse.

He untied his designer silk tie with a slow, predatory deliberation, his dark, unblinking eyes tracking her every fluid step—fully aware of the ancient entity walking among his mortal luxury.

"Make yourself comfortable, Redessa," Drake said, his voice smooth as silk but laced with a heavy, magnetic gravity that sent a violent shiver straight down her spine.

He sauntered over to a custom-built, dark-wood wet bar, pouring a generous splash of rich amber bourbon into two heavy crystal lowball glasses.

A beautiful, captivating woman like you doesn't just end up in my private corner of the city by mere accident. So tell me... what is it you're truly hunting for tonight?"

Irridessa turned to face him, leaning back provocatively against the edge of the massive, silk-draped bed. She let a slow, icy smile play on her lips, her hand subtly drifting closer to the hem of her thigh-slit dress where the concealed blade waited in the shadows.

"Maybe I just wanted to see if the rumors about the infamous Drake Walker were true," she purred, her voice dripping with a dangerous, intoxicating charm.

"They say you own half of Las Vegas, but no one ever mentions how well you treat your private guests."

Drake picked up the heavy crystal glasses and turned around, a ghost of a knowing smirk dancing on his face.

He didn’t walk toward her—he simply stood his ground, holding her gaze with unyielding intensity. He was perfectly aware that a lethal game of cat and mouse had just officially commenced in the most expensive room in Sin City.

Drake held her gaze, a cold, calculating look settling over his features. "That’s enough," he said, his voice dropping to a chilling command that shattered the seductive atmosphere. "Strip."

The seductive atmosphere shattered instantly under his icy tone. Irridessa locked eyes with him, then slowly, deliberately began to shed her clothes piece by piece, maintaining her poise until she was standing before him in nothing but her underwear.

Irridessa moved forward, trying to maintain her poise even as the atmosphere turned lethal. She reached out, her fingers subtly tracing his silhouette as she looked for an opening, a way to reclaim the advantage. Drake watched her movements with a dark, calculating smirk. He knew exactly what she was trying to do.

But before she could strike Drake lunged forward, closing the distance instantly. In a desperate, tactical move, he initiated a sharp, forceful collision of their lips.

This was no romantic gesture; it was a delivery mechanism. Using the moment of her surprise, he transferred the hidden toxin he had been carrying, ensuring she ingested the substance before she could react.

Irridessa recoiled, stumbling away as the divine poison began to take effect. She collapsed to the floor, her strength fading as the potent mixture neutralized her godly essence.

She looked up at him, her breathing labored as she struggled against the sudden paralysis creeping through her limbs.

Drake stood over her, his expression unreadable.

"Oh God, you are nothing but a weakling, damn it! That's why ladies are called weaker vessels," Drake sneered, his dark laughter echoing through the room as Irridessa choked, running out of oxygen.

She was breathing heavily, her eyes rolling back into her head as her pupils dilated wildly. She writhed on the floor, groaning in sheer agony. Drake walked over to her, planting his heavy shoe firmly onto her head, callously pushing her face down into the hard marble floor.

But suddenly, he froze. Her breathing wasn't stopping.

"You're supposed to be dead by now!!" he snarled, slamming his fist down in frustration.

He dropped his grip, dragging her body up by her hair. Irridessa squirmed in excruciating pain, blood already trickling from her nose.

But how? I got you poisoned with Silver nitrate you're supposed to be a goner by now..." Drake muttered, realization dawning on him. He slammed her head back down against the beautiful marble floor, her lips turning a deathly shade of blue. "Why the heck are you still alive."

He can still hear her faint breaths.

"Seems you wanna live so bad"Drake let out a frustrated sigh, pacing the room anxiously. "Table salt... where is it?!"

Sighting a container of table salt across the room, he rushed toward it, grabbing it in a frenzy. He knelt down beside Irridessa's limp form and forcefully poured a handful of salt directly into her mouth.

"The salt ought to precipitate the silver nitrate..." he said dusting his hands.

"I'd better take her away immediately," he muttered to himself.

Hurriedly pulling her clothes back onto her body, he lifted her in a bridal carry. Pressing his thumb against the biometric sensor, the double doors glided open and snapped shut behind them. He took the private elevator down, carrying her dead weight.

Damn, she’s quite heavy, he thought as the elevator beeped and the doors opened into the lobby. He rushed past the receptionist, who stared back at him with absolute confusion written all over her face. Drake ignored her, sprinting out of the hotel and into the car park. Reaching his vehicle, he flung the door open and dropped Irridessa onto the back seat, jumping into the driver's side and tearing off into the night.