Chapter 2: The Lion’s Boredom

Lucien's POV

The view from the penthouse of the Thorne Tower was supposed to be the ultimate prize, but tonight, the sprawling lights of the Las Vegas Strip just looked like a circuit board I’d already mastered.

I leaned back in my leather chair, the amber liquid in my glass catching the glow of the city. I had spent a decade carving my name into the marrow of this desert.

I had crushed the syndicates, bought the politicians, and silenced the dissenters.

Now, there was nothing left but the quiet.

And the quiet was starting to feel like a slow-acting poison.

My phone vibrated on the desk. I didn't pick it up, just tapped the speaker.

"Thorne," I rasped.

"Sir, the shipment at the docks has a... discrepancy," a nervous voice reported. "The foreman says he was shorted three crates of the high-end hardware."

I stared at the city, my eyes cold. "I don't care what the foreman says. If those crates aren't in the warehouse by dawn, bury him in the foundation of the new stadium. And find the driver who signed the manifest. Cut off the hand he used to hold the pen, then toss him to the sharks at the Tropicana. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir. Crystal."

"Good. Don't call me again unless someone is dead or the crates are found."

I disconnected before he could stammer another apology. My movements were sharp, efficient, and utterly devoid of warmth.

That was the problem with conquering a kingdom; once the war is over, you’re just left with the administrative task of cleaning up the blood.

The silence in my office suddenly felt too heavy, vibrating with a dull, ringing frequency that made my skin crawl. I needed something to sharpen the edges of my mind.

"Dante," I said into the intercom, my voice a low command. "Bring the car around. We’re going to Casanova."

I didn't enter Casanova through the front. I was the ghost of this city, and the ghost didn't stand in line.

I took the private elevator straight to the Gold Room. As I stepped onto the balcony tier—my personal throne—the atmosphere shifted.

The air grew thick with the scent of expensive tobacco and the hushed, reverent murmurs of men who knew exactly whose house they were in.

I sat in the velvet shadows of the center booth, my posture relaxed but my energy predatory. Below me, the Gold Room was a sea of red, but the air felt electric, humming with an anticipation I hadn't felt in months.

"I thought you've forgotten this whole place." Vivienne whispered from the shadows behind me. She was the only one allowed to speak without being spoken to.

"I was busy."

"And now?"

"Now I need to be entertained." I pulled out my cigarette, and Vivienne was quick to strike a match.

The fire cast an amber light on my face as I took a long drag, releasing a cloud of thick grey smoke in the air. "Show me what you got V."

She stood in silence for a while, as if contemplating, then she took a deep long breath. "I have someone new, very different than the other girls."

"They all say that, V." I drawled, not looking back. "Usually, they just want a higher percentage."

"Not this one. She doesn't take the extras. No touching. No private rooms for anything but the dance. She’s made us a fortune just on the mystery alone."

I felt a flicker of genuine interest. A stripper in Vegas who didn't sell her body was either a fool or a genius. "Send her in, and I'll be the judge myself." I leaned back against the velvet chair.

Then, the cello began.

A single golden spotlight pierced the red gloom, hitting the center stage. A woman stepped into the light.

She wore a delicate, white lace masquerade mask that obscured the top half of her face, leaving only a pair of full, rose-tinted lips and a determined jawline visible.

Her attire was a sheer white lace bodice that clung to her curves like a second skin and a tiny, tiered skirt of white tulle that sat low on her hips, flaring out with every step.

Her legs were long, toned, and unblemished, her skin looking like polished ivory under the gold light.

She didn't move like the others. There was no desperate hunger for attention, no practiced vulgarity.

Her tiny hands gripped the pole firmly, she lifted herself up before spinning around, a soft graceful, spun that kept every eye in the room glued to her.

When she landed, her long legs stretched out, her hips swayed sensually before she lifted herself back up.

Reaching the pole again her head was thrown back, one hand dangling behind her as she spun with a haunting, ethereal grace. Her long platinum blonde waves cascading down her back like a silken veil.

She was mesmerizing, I could see why Vivienne said she was different. But what stood out most is the aura that she projected.

Despite the minimal clothing and the provocative setting, she radiated innocence. She looked like a swan trapped in a den of wolves.

"Name." I rasped.

"Crystal." Vivienne answered.

"Bring her to me." I said, my voice a dark velvet command.

Vivienne waltzed towards her, and I watched as they exchange a few words.

Her head lifted, her eyes searching the dark corner of my booth. Not long after, she was guided personally by Vivienne toward my seat.

The curtain to my booth parted. She stepped inside, the scent of vanilla and lavender following her.

Up close, the innocence was even more startling. She didn't look at the floor in fear, she looked at my chest, her chin tilted with a quiet, stubborn dignity.

"You know the rules of the Gold Room?" I asked, my voice vibrating in the small space.

"I do," she whispered. Her voice was like silk sliding over glass. "Mama V said you were the one who made them."

"I am. And I’m the only one who can break them." I gestured to the space between my knees. "Dance for me, Crystal."

She hesitated for a second, then a slow, deep bass rhythm began to pump through the hidden speakers.

Her high heels sank into the velvet cushion before she stepped onto the table in front of me.

She grabbed the pole that stood between us, and her body began to sway, her movements hypnotic as she spin around it.

My lips twitched, it was the first time a woman hadn't jump directly on my lap when I requested a lap dance, but I guess there's always a first for everyone, even for me.

I watched as her body leaped upwards, her legs clinging to the pole as she slid down, her breast almost spilled out from that tiny satin triangle bra.

I felt the blood rushing downwards, heat pooling low in my gut. Fucking finally, after years of women throwing themselves to me I got sick of their heavy perfumes and excessive flirting.

Her heels reached the table, and I can almost see the inside of her skirts before she twirled around once again.

My head tilted slightly, watching her moves I realized she knows what exactly she's doing. She knows when to show her curves and snapped it off of our views within seconds, no wonder Vivienne said we made a fortune out of her mystery.

But how?

Vivienne told me she was new, and only experienced dancer would know what to do. Plus I don't see any of them moves the way she does it.

She moves like a lethal grace, masked with her innocence.

None of it makes sense for me.

"Come." I gestured her to come closer, and I can almost see the hesitation flicked through her eyes.

Nevertheless she stepped forward, her heels clicking against the smooth surface of the table, before she stepped in between my legs.

My brows arched, that was quite a show, considering how hard she tried to hide the trembling on her legs.

Her body shifted until she's straddling me, her body only inches from mine and I could feel the heat radiating off her skin.

She moved with a deliberate, agonizing slowness, her hands skimming over her own curves, slightly pushing the sheer fabric that clung onto her body upwards.

Her fingers brushed her own nipples, and it made me wonder how does it feel to have them in my own hands.

She ran her fingers through her hair, pulling it up as her head tilted back, her rosy lips parted, and her hooded eyes, bright amber behind the mask, locked onto mine.

My jaw tightened, I fisted my hands at my sides. Not yet. I wanted to see how far she would go.

She began to sway again, her hips moving in a slow, hypnotic circle, right above the bulge in my pants. She leaned a little closer, almost touching but not quite, her movements a sensual, fluid invitation.

It was the most erotic thing I had ever witnessed, not because of what she was showing, but because of what she was holding back. She was a fire that refused to burn.

I felt the urge to reach out. My hand moved on its own volition, my fingers reaching out to her waist.

But before I could make contact, her hand shot out. It wasn't a slap, it was a firm, steady catch.

She gripped my wrist and, with a strength that surprised me, pressed my hand back against my own chest.

She didn't speak. She didn't flinch. She just held my hand against my heart, her gaze unyielding behind the lace as she shook her head.

A low, dark chuckle rumbled in my throat. Nobody in the history of this city had ever dared to reject a touch from Lucien Thorne. I should have been livid. I should have had her thrown out.

Instead, I felt a spark of something I hadn't felt in years: a challenge.

I leaned back, leaving my hand where she had placed it. "Continue," I murmured.

She did, and every second was a form of torture. For the first time in years I had to exert every ounce of patience for the little swan in front of me.

She finished the dance with breathtaking grace, a silent declaration that she belonged to no one. When the music faded, she gave a small, respectful nod and vanished through the curtains.

I sat in the darkness for a long time after she left, the scent of her still clinging to my suit.

My pulse was thrumming, the bulge in my pants hard and torturing, my body demanding what she had withheld and then I realized it.

I had found a new toy, a new shiny new prize to acquire, and I couldn't wait until I break it.

=====☆☆☆☆☆======

Aurelia's POV

​The moment the velvet curtains of the private booth closed behind me, the air in the hallway felt thin, as if the oxygen had stayed inside with him. I leaned against the cold marble wall, my legs trembling.

​I had just touched the "Ghost." More accurately, I had stopped the Ghost from touching me.

I couldn't believe I had just given a lap dance to Lucien Thorne. In all my months dancing here I've never seen or heard his presence, until Mama Vivienne personally brought me to his booth.

So he was alive, he was real, he wasn't just a ghost story the girls made up. The girls talked about how beautiful he really is and I must admit that they're right.

He was breathtaking, his jaw was sharp and angular, his dark blue eyes bore into mine as if he could see right into my soul.

​"Aurelia, darling," Mama V’s voice startled me, ripping the image of Lucien from my head. She was beaming, her silver bob gleaming under the red hallway lights.

"You were magnificent. Truly."

​"I... I think I overstepped," I whispered, my heart still drum rolling in my chest. "I pushed his hand away."

Mama V laughed, a genuine, delighted sound. "Overstepped? Child, you captivated the fiercest figure in this city of sin. Lucien just paid me double your usual performance f*e for tonight. He didn't look angry, he looked.. Intrigued."

"Intrigued?" I repeated her words, unable to believe it. I had been trying my best to stop myself from shaking the entire time I was on top of him.

He looked breathtakingly handsome but he also looked like a Devil in human form, like he could tear me out of my dress in a second and yet.. He let me, he respected my boundaries.

Mama Vivienne nodded, her eyes beaming with pride as she looked at me.

​The tension in my shoulders eased slightly, replaced by a surge of relief. "He paid me double?"

​"Double," she confirmed, tucking a stray brunette lock behind my ear. "And he wants you back tomorrow. Same time, his private booth. He requested for you specifically."

​A cold shiver raced down my spine, a mix of lingering fear and a strange, sparky thrill.

I've never felt anything like this before, dancing for Lucien had been nervewracking and thrilling at the same time. But the thought of that doubled pay silenced the alarm bells.

That money meant another month of the experimental treatment for Mom.

It meant Amelia’s new laptop for school. It meant we were winning.

I didn't think twice before I nodded, "Tomorrow.. I'll be there."