003: The Game Begins

Lydia stood in front of the black double doors, heart pounding so violently it echoed in her ears. The card Damian left her—black, unmarked, just an address and a time—was still tucked into her coat pocket, like a dare burning against her skin.

She was here. She shouldn’t be.

And yet, she wanted to be.

A dark-suited man opened the door without a word, eyes cool as he stepped aside. Inside, shadows and gold met her. Velvet walls. A low hum of jazz. Opulence wrapped in mystery.

And him.

Damian stood across the room like he owned every secret within it. His shirt, half unbuttoned. A tumbler of whiskey in one hand. And that gaze—unchanging, unreadable, but devouring.

“You came,” he said simply.

Lydia swallowed, walking in as the door shut behind her.

“I shouldn’t have.”

“But you did.”

He moved toward her slowly. Each step deliberate. Commanding. She fought the urge to step back.

“I have one rule, Lydia.”

Her spine straightened. “Only one?”

“For now.”

He handed her a folder. Black leather. Inside: a contract.

Rules. Boundaries. A promise of limits—and everything beyond.

Her hand trembled slightly as she skimmed through it. The language was precise, formal… and charged with dark implication.

“You expect me to sign this?”

“No.” He stepped closer. “I expect you to want to.”

She didn’t answer. She didn’t have to.

Because her fingers were already gripping the pen.

When her name hit the page, something shifted. Between them. In her.

Power. Fear. Desire.

It tangled into one breathless knot.

Damian took the contract, slid it into a drawer, and whispered, “The game begins now.”

He held out his hand. “Come with me.”

Lydia hesitated—but only for a second.

She followed him through a hidden corridor, behind the velvet and gold. Down into a place that felt like another world. No signs. No explanation.

Just the hum of music… and masked faces.

Dozens of them. Elegant, anonymous, glittering. Champagne flowed. Bodies pressed. Eyes watched. But no one spoke names.

“Welcome,” Damian murmured into her ear, “to temptation.”

A masked woman brushed against Lydia, fingers trailing over her bare arm.

She shivered.

“What is this place?”

Damian’s hand slipped around her waist, possessive and warm.

“A sanctuary for those who break rules… beautifully.”

Then he handed her a mask—red silk and lace. And leaned in.

“Tonight, you’ll obey your first commandment.”

She blinked. “Which is?”

He pressed his lips to her ear.

“Never deny your deepest desires.”

Before she could respond, a man brushed past her—too close. His voice low and sharp:

“Lydia.”

Her head snapped around.

The man was gone.

But he knew her name.

Someone in the masked crowd knows who she is—and she doesn’t know if it’s friend, foe… or something far more dangerous.

The voice sent a ripple through her spine—sharp, cutting, too familiar. But when Lydia spun around, the crowd swallowed everything. Laughter, silk, shadow. Masks turned toward her, blank and smiling. The man who’d spoken her name had vanished.

Damian saw the flicker in her eyes.

“Someone you recognize?” he asked, cool and unreadable.

She shook her head. “No… I don’t know. Maybe.”

He didn’t press her. Of course he didn’t. He never did. Not when he knew that silence could bend a person more than pressure ever could.

Instead, he took her hand and led her deeper into the room. Not forcefully—but with the confidence of a man who knew she’d follow.

Because she wanted to.

Every part of her wanted to.

The masked party thrummed with danger disguised as elegance. There was no stage, but eyes performed. No rules, but people obeyed an unspoken rhythm. There were women with lovers on leashes. Men kneeling with blindfolds. But no vulgarity. It wasn’t about shock—it was about control. Power. Every move in the room was calculated. Drenched in restraint… and charged with anticipation.

Lydia’s breath hitched when a woman in a black feathered mask leaned in close, whispering, “New girl?” with a teasing smile. She didn’t wait for an answer before trailing a single red fingernail down Lydia’s bare arm and disappearing into the crowd.

Lydia looked up at Damian. “What is this place?”

His voice was low. “A mirror. Of who you are when no one is watching.”

Her throat tightened. “And if I don’t like what I see?”

He turned her toward a long mirror mounted on a marble wall. “Then change it. Or embrace it.”

Their eyes met in the reflection. His gaze lingered—on her lips, her throat, the flush creeping across her chest.

“You’re trembling,” he said softly.

“No, I’m not.”

“You are.”

She didn’t respond. Because it was true. She was trembling—not just from the mystery of the room, or the hunger in his voice—but from what she wanted to do about it.

Damian’s hand found the small of her back. “Come. There’s one more thing.”

He led her through a hidden arch behind velvet curtains. The space opened into a private lounge—lower lighting, quieter music. And on a table in the center… a velvet box.

He opened it.

Inside lay a delicate bracelet. Silver, engraved with a single line of Latin.

Lydia stared. “What does it say?”

“Aut disce aut discede.”

She frowned. “I don’t know Latin.”

His eyes glinted. “Then you’ve just agreed to the first lesson.”

Before she could ask more, he clasped the bracelet around her wrist. It clicked shut with a sound that felt final.

“Is this… symbolic?”

“Very.”

She tried to tug it off—but it wouldn’t budge. Her eyes flashed.

“This isn’t just symbolic, is it?”

He stepped closer, almost amused. “You signed the contract, Lydia. You said yes to the unknown. This,” he lifted her wrist, “is just your first tether.”

Heat surged through her chest—part anger, part arousal. “You’re toying with me.”

“No.” His voice dropped. “I’m awakening you.”

A knock echoed against the door.

Damian opened it a crack, exchanged quiet words with someone outside, then turned back to her.

“There’s something else you need to see.”

He gestured to a security monitor embedded in the wall.

The screen flickered. Grainy. Black and white.

It was her. Walking into the building tonight. Then into the masked room. Then… pausing. Talking to Damian. And just behind her—brief, almost invisible—a figure in a long coat and gloves.

The angle caught only a portion of the man’s face. Enough for a hint of recognition.

Her blood ran cold.

“That’s the man who said my name.”

Damian’s expression sharpened, just for a moment. Then—composed.

“We’re watching,” he said. “He won’t get close again.”

But something in his voice suggested that he already had.

Lydia stepped back from the screen. “Why would someone be watching me?”

Damian turned to her, slow and deliberate.

“Because you’re not just temptation, Lydia.” He paused. “You’re leverage.”

She opened her mouth to ask what the hell that meant—but he was already closing the space between them again.

“Let me distract you,” he murmured.

“I don’t think I want distraction.”

“You do. You just don’t want to admit it.”

His fingers brushed her jaw, lifted her face to his. His lips were almost on hers.

And then he whispered—soft and lethal—

“Never deny your deepest desires.”

And with that, he left her.

Alone in the velvet room.

Wearing the bracelet.

Heart pounding with fear, confusion… and the thrill of surrender.

She’s signed the contract. Worn the bracelet. Been seen. And someone dangerous already knows her name. But it’s the man she chose to trust who might be the real threat… or the only one who can protect her.