The room sparkled with decadence.

Golden chandeliers shimmered above an ocean of expensive suits and silk gowns, casting fractured light over polished marble floors. Crystal glasses clinked in elegant fingers, laughter drifted like perfume, and behind every smile was a secret. This was not a party—it was a transaction in disguise. A congregation of the untouchable, the dangerous, and the unseen.

Lucien stood near the bar, untouched drink in hand, eyes scanning the room beneath thick lashes. He didn’t belong here, not by pedigree. But he wore elegance well—his black velvet jacket molded to his frame, his hair slicked back just enough to look effortless, not forced. He looked like someone who had always been rich, always been invited. That was the trick.

But Lucien wasn’t here for the champagne or the empty conversations. He was here for him.

Silas.

He’d never seen the man in person—only heard the way others spoke of him. Quiet, dangerous, magnetic. A man who moved through this world like he was born to command it. And as if summoned by thought alone, Lucien saw him.

Silas stood across the room, near the balcony’s edge, cigarette between two fingers, untouched drink on the table behind him. He was dressed in all black—satin shirt, slim tailored jacket, shoes that barely made a sound when he walked. His expression was unreadable, sculpted marble with eyes like onyx glass.

He hadn’t noticed Lucien.

Yet.

Lucien’s gaze lingered. He should’ve looked away—every instinct told him that Silas wasn’t the kind of man you simply stared at. But Lucien didn’t flinch. He studied the way Silas tilted his head slightly when someone leaned in to speak to him. The way his mouth didn’t smile even when his lips curled. The way people walked away from him looking a little paler, like they’d left something behind.

Lucien moved. Slowly. Casually. He didn’t approach directly—too obvious. Instead, he circled the room, stopping here and there, exchanging pleasantries, pretending he was part of the noise. But always, he moved closer. Like gravity, or fate.

When they were only a few feet apart, Silas finally looked at him.

It was a glance, nothing more. But it sliced through Lucien like a blade honed on silence. There was no curiosity in his eyes. No warmth. Just awareness—like a predator acknowledging something unfamiliar in its territory.

Lucien offered the smallest of nods, like an invitation folded between gestures.

Silas didn’t return it. He turned his head away.

Lucien’s heart should’ve dropped, but instead, it sped up. Cold rejection would’ve been easier. This was... a game.

Moments later, a voice behind him—silken, quiet.

“You’re not from this circle.”

Lucien turned. Silas had moved soundlessly, close enough now that Lucien could smell smoke and spice on his breath. His voice was low, intimate, like it was meant for Lucien alone despite the dozen conversations happening around them.

“And yet,” Lucien murmured, “here I am.”

Silas’s eyes studied him, slow and piercing. “You’ve been watching me.”

Lucien didn’t deny it. “Should I apologize?”

Silas stepped closer, just enough to make the space between them shimmer with tension. “That depends. Are you here out of curiosity, or are you here with intent?”

Lucien’s smile didn’t reach his eyes. “Would you believe me if I said both?”

Silas let the silence stretch. Then he looked him over—not like he was admiring Lucien, but like he was analyzing him. Tasting the edges of his presence without touching.

“I don’t believe anything,” Silas said softly. “Not until I’ve taken it apart.”

Lucien’s breath caught. A pause. Then—

“Then take me apart.”

The words were barely above a whisper. Dangerous. Reckless. A challenge disguised as flirtation.

For the first time, Silas’s lips twitched. Not quite a smile—something darker. A flicker of intrigue. And then, just as quickly, it vanished.

“I don’t play with strangers.”

“I never stay one for long,” Lucien replied, smooth as silk.

Another silence. A shift. Something had started—quiet and dangerous.

Silas turned, walking away without a word.

But not before brushing his hand, just slightly, against Lucien’s.

And that was all the permission Lucien needed to follow.

Silas disappeared into the shadowed corridor behind the velvet-draped archway, a place no one entered unless they had permission—or power.

Lucien hesitated.

Following him would mean stepping off the dance floor of facades and into something real, something dangerous. But his blood was already humming, pulled by something darker than desire. This wasn't about charm or curiosity anymore. This was a line being drawn—and Lucien had never been good at staying on the safe side of lines.

He set his untouched drink down with the grace of someone raised in salons he never belonged to, then followed.

The hallway was quieter. Dim. It smelled of polished wood, aged books, and something faintly metallic. The crowd's laughter faded behind him like a fading spell, and all that remained was the hush of velvet curtains and Silas’s footsteps just ahead—measured, deliberate, waiting to be chased.

Lucien turned the corner and stopped.

Silas was standing by a tall window, one hand in his pocket, the other still holding his cigarette, half-burnt and forgotten. The city glittered behind him—cold lights blinking like distant stars. He didn’t look at Lucien right away. He didn’t have to. He knew Lucien would come.

“I could have you thrown out,” Silas said softly, his reflection in the glass barely moving. “People here guard their secrets. And you… you’re not on any list.”

Lucien stepped closer, his voice lower now, warmer. “Then why didn’t you?”

Silas turned slowly. This time, he looked at Lucien differently. Not like a threat. Not like prey. Like a riddle.

“I’m still deciding.”

Lucien stepped closer, close enough to catch the subtle tension in Silas’s jaw, the faint twitch of his fingers. Silas was too composed to let it show, but Lucien saw it—the alertness, the calculation behind the calm.

“You’re not what I expected,” Silas said, and Lucien could hear the tilt of curiosity under the disinterest. “Men like you don’t last long in this world. You smile too easily. Trust too quickly.”

Lucien tilted his head. “You think I trust you?”

“I think you want something,” Silas replied. “And men who want things make mistakes.”

Lucien’s smile sharpened. “What mistake am I making now?”

Silas moved just one step closer. Enough to steal the air between them. His eyes dropped to Lucien’s lips, then back up, slow and deliberate.

“You’re underestimating me,” he said, barely above a whisper. “And overestimating your charm.”

Lucien’s breath caught, but he didn’t back down. “What if I told you I wasn’t here to charm you?”

“I’d say you’re lying.”

They stood there for a moment—still as statues, except for the thrum of tension curling between them. Lucien’s pulse beat at his throat like a trapped thing. Silas's presence pressed against him—not touching, but it felt like being gripped from the inside.

Lucien licked his lips, voice soft now. “And if I told you I see you?”

Silas blinked. A slow, dangerous thing.

“No one sees me,” he said. “They see what I allow.”

Lucien didn’t reply immediately. Instead, he reached forward, fingers brushing lightly—intentionally—against the edge of Silas’s lapel. Not possessive. Not suggestive. Just… curious.

“You didn’t stop me,” Lucien murmured.

Silas looked down at the contact, then back up.

“I don’t stop things that interest me.”

Their eyes locked.

In another world, maybe they would’ve kissed then. But in this one, the kiss was the tension itself. The almost.

Silas stepped back, reclaiming space like a king on a chessboard. Controlled. Distant.

“I host meetings here twice a month,” he said, suddenly cool again. “Be careful who sees you next time.”

Lucien’s smile was slow, satisfied. “That sounds like an invitation.”

“It’s a warning.”

And with that, Silas turned and disappeared down the corridor, leaving only the scent of smoke and the echo of his voice behind.

Lucien stood still, heart pounding.

He hadn’t gotten what he came for.

But he’d gotten his attention.

And that was more dangerous than anything he’d planned.