Chapter 5: The Lion’s Den

Aurelia’s POV

I stood paralyzed in front of the full-length mirror in the dressing room, scanning my appearance from head to toe. The white lace outfit Mama V had provided for tonight felt like a beautiful trap.

The garment was a structural contradiction of purity and absolute vulnerability—a halter-neck romper crafted from intricate, heavy white floral lace.

The plunging neckline was a deep, sharp V that sliced all the way down to my navel, leaving my breasts held together by nothing more than the thin strap of my triangle bra beneath it.

It left the inner curves of my bust completely bare, while the sides of my torso and my back were entirely exposed.

Worse was the bottom. The structured lace flared out slightly at the hips, mimicking the playful silhouette of a short skater skirt, but it ended so high up my thighs that it barely covered my assets.

Every time I shifted my weight, the scalloped lace hem rode up, making the outfit feel significantly shorter than anything I had ever worn on the main stage.

To anchor the look, a matching white lace choker with a singular, delicate fabric rose was fastened snugly around my neck.

It was supposed to look like a romantic accessory, but right now, it felt like a gilded collar.

My hands were cold, and my heart hammered a frantic rhythm against my ribs. I looked like an exquisite doll wrapped in white lace, ready to be unwrapped.

I was completely jittery, terrified of what could happen inside that private suite, but the crushing weight of the debt and the "three-times" payment left me with no choice. I had to go.

The security guard escorted me through a heavy, soundproofed door. The Platinum Suite was dimly lit, the air thick with expensive perfume and Lucien's distinct scent, black pepper and expensive whiskey.

Deep crimson velvet draped the walls, and the floor was polished black marble.

In the corner, a floor-to-ceiling chrome pole stood cold and silent, and a large, round bed with black silk sheets dominated the far side of the room.

Lucien was waiting. He was reclined on a sleek, black leather chaise longue—the kind of curved, ergonomic chair found in the offices of high-priced therapists or billionaires.

He looked strikingly handsome, his white shirt unbuttoned enough to show the corded muscles of his chest and the tattooes, his dark hair perfectly styled.

I moved toward the pole, my fingers reaching for the steel, but Lucien raised a hand.

He didn't speak; he simply gestured toward his lap. He wanted me there. Immediately.

I gulped, trying to swallow the fear flaring through my body.

I had planned to dance around the pole at first, buying myself some time before I had to perform a lap dance. But now, I found myself walking over to him, my legs feeling like lead.

The closer I got, the more I could feel his tension. His eyes raked my body from head to toe, his gaze tracking every sway of my hips.

"Crystal," he greeted me, his dark, timber-toned voice making me shiver. "Let's continue from where we left off."

My mind flashed back to yesterday—the kiss that had almost happened until I stopped him.

I climbed up onto his lap slowly, settling myself on top of him as he watched me intently.

Low, soft music hummed through the dark room, and I started to sway to the rhythm while he leaned back on the chaise.

He folded his hands behind his head as my body moved in a slow, rhythmic arc. The song was downright sensual, and my body instinctively followed with my usual teasing moves.

I closed my eyes as my fingers glided over my own skin, lightly touching my neck, tracing down to the inner curves of my breasts, and riding further down to my navel before flaring out to my thighs.

I don’t know how I got the courage to touch him, but I find myself leaning toward him. His first three buttons unopened, leaving me chance to feel his muscles.

"Fuck," he breathed as my fingers traced across his chest, feeling his muscle taut beneath his skins. Everywhere I touched him he felt so tough, rough, and hard.

I can see tattoo sprawled across his chest as I unbutton his shirt even further. If I can divert his attention into my touch, then maybe, maybe he won’t be the one touching me.

My body pressed closer towards him, my face inches away from his, and I can see his lips falls apart, his chest heaving up and down, while his dark eyes that were blazing with desires locked into mine.

I was trying to lose myself in the rhythm, keeping my eyes shut to escape his deep, piercing gaze. But panic flared in my chest when I felt his fingers trailing high along the bare skin of my thighs.

I quickly captured his hands and pressed them firmly against his own chest, stopping him.

Lucien let out a low, delicious chuckle that vibrated through my palms. And before I could pull away, he flipped his hands, capturing mine.

His gaze held mine captive as he pressed his lips to my knuckles. He lingered there a few seconds longer than necessary, before his lips started tracing a path upward.

From the base of my hand, he showered soft kisses up my arm. Every kiss left a trail of heat on my skin. He didn't stop, and I was too transfixed to pull away, until his mouth was right against my ear.

"Tell me," he whispered, his breath hot and sending shivers down my spine. "What can I do to get consent from you?"

I gulped, feeling the weight of his words sinking into my body alongside a sudden, confusing tinge of desire.

I shook my head. I couldn't let him have what he wanted, no matter how enticing the Devil is.

Lucien’s head tilted, a cold smirk playing on his lips. With a sharp flick of his fingers, a man in a dark suit entered, carrying a suitcase. He snapped it open on the table.

My breath hitched. It was a sea of cash—more money than I had ever seen in one place.

My mind started to race, performing a frantic count of the stacked bills in front of me. Hundred dollar bundles were all neatly packed, and that's when I realize that this could pay off almost all of my father’s loan shark debts in one night.

I looked at the money, then at Lucien. He was watching me with an expression of pure, dark enjoyment.

I swallowed hard, my mind scrambled in a mess, torn between my dignity and the need to save my family.

If I could have all of this, I might have a chance to live like a normal college student. I can stop dancing at Casanova and just work a regular job.

I looked at him once again, at his dark eyes that's been watching me so intensely, at the cocky smirk on his face, as if he were daring me to say no.

He was savoring the sight of me being torn between my pride and my survival. He wanted to see me break.

I hated myself the moment I finally gave him a slow, hesitant nod. He had me exactly where he wanted me, and I had no choice but to give him my consent.

Lucien let out a cold, evil laugh that echoed in the suite. He barked an order to his man to take the money to Mama V, so it could be wired to me immediately.

The second the door clicked shut, Lucien’s restraint vanished. His hands returned to my thighs, his fingers crawling up the hem of my mini-skirt to rub the curves of my ass.

He took a deep inhale when he realized I'm only wearing a thin, lace thong underneath, leaving my ass bare for him to touch.

His fingers glided around my curve, as if testing the waters gently, before he place a firm grip on both of them.

"Dance for me, Crystal." He murmured, his voice low and husky, prompting me to obey immediately.

I started moving again, my fingers brushing against his shoulder now, leaning closer toward him as he slowly lounge back on the chaise.

His hands moved to my waist, his fingers trailing slow circles along the side of my body. He took his time, as if he's memorizing every inch of me.

His thumbs rubbed the side of my breast slowly, fingers nipping at the hem of my lace outfit.

I tried to drown the fear out, telling myself it would be over in thirty minutes as his fingers playfully glided over the exposed side of my breasts, lightly touching, slowly slipping in and out between the fabric.

His hands roamed everywhere, while his eyes locked onto mine. The sheer intensity of his desire blazed through his dark, stormy eyes, filled with promises of what he could do to my body.

His hands reaching towards my back, teasing and circling the thin straps of my triangle bra without quite untying them yet.

"Turn around." He commanded, and I was relief to break the suffocating eye contact between us. It was too intense, like being lost in a stormy night in the middle of the sea.

I shifted my body until my back was facing him, my hips swaying to the music as I lifted my blonde hair up, letting it cascade slowly back over my shoulders.

His fingers tugged lightly at the knot that tied my bra together. My breath hitched as I felt the knot loosen, and before I could protest, he had already pulled the bra out from the sides of my romper.

"Mr. Thorne..." I couldn't finish my sentence. I felt his arms wrap around my waist, his chin resting against my shoulder as he pulled me into a tight embrace.

I froze on the spot, fear gripping my throat while his hands slowly crawled upward. The next second, he slipped his hands beneath the fabric, cupping my breasts greedily while peppering soft kisses across my bare back.

I felt his hands moving, squeezing my flesh. My breath hitched, haze of lust creeping into my head.

A weird, tingling sensation bloomed across my skin. It was entirely unfamiliar, and I was too terrified to do anything about it.

He pulled me in his embrace, slowly inching backwards as we laid on the chaise, his hands still wrapped in my chest as his breath turned heavier.

My wide eyes met the black chandelier above us. His fingers captured the sensitive peaks of my chest, teasing them.

My breath hitched.

His lips dipped lower into the crook of my neck, his kisses soft and slow, but his touch was growing aggressive.

His hands started squeezing harder, molding me roughly, tugging at my nipples. The tingling in my body intensified, my breath turning short and ragged as my chest heaved.

I was terrified; nobody had ever touched me this way. It felt as if he were preparing to devour me, slowly and intensely.

His breath turned heavier against my neck, and as if that wasn't enough, his hands started crawling down.

"Wait, please.." I started to panic, I couldn't let him touch me there, but he ignored me.

His hand trailed down through the long, plunging neckline of my dress, reaching my navel. Right before he could reach my core, I snapped down and caught his wrist.

He froze, he didn't expect that, especially after I stay quiet during the whole time he touched me.

I slowly pulled his hand away and forced myself up. His dark eyes were now brewing a vicious storm, swirling with emotions I couldn't decipher.

"I'm sorry, but that's as far as you can touch me," I said, my voice shaking.

His brows lifted, as if he literally couldn't comprehend what I had just said.

Then suddenly, he snapped. His hand gripped my arm roughly, dragging me off the chaise toward the round bed.

I screamed, trying to yank my arm away, but he didn't budge. The message he sent by manhandling me was loud and clear: Nobody rejects Lucien Thorne.

He threw me onto the bed roughly, and I bounced against the mattress, the black silk sheets a harsh contrast to my white outfit. I could barely catch my breath before he loomed over me, his face a mask of cold fury as he stared down.

"Did you just tell me what I can or can't do?" his voice was a low growl.

I didn't dare to answer him. My eyes frantically scanned the room, looking at the clock, at the door, counting the minutes left, searching for an escape.

"You can't leave this room until I say so," he interjected, snapping my focus right back to him.

"I can leave when my time reaches thirty minutes, Mr. Thorne. That's the contract," I forced out.

And he laughed.

It was a long, mocking laugh, as if I had just said the most ridiculous thing in the world.

He gripped my chin, tilting it upward as he looked down at me. "You'll be begging me to never let you leave this room soon, little swan."

He crashed his lips onto mine, forcing my mouth open. My hands flew to his chest, trying to push him away to no avail; instead, he pinned my wrists instantly.

His kisses turned into a forced, desperate assault, his large hands gripping my wrists with bruising strength.

His tongue forced its way past my lips, claiming my mouth greedily. My head spun with the overwhelming sensation, his taste, and an inexplicable fear that crept down into my very soul.

I bit down—hard—right on his tongue.

He froze instantly.

I could taste the metallic tang of blood in my own mouth as he slowly pulled back. His hands still pinned my wrists, his chest heaving up and down as he looked at me with a profound, terrifying new anger. His eyes burned with pure fury.

He grabbed my hair, yanking my head back. "You dare to bite me?"

My body trembled at the raw intensity of his voice, but I refused to completely back down. I lifted my chin defiantly, my eyes meeting his, and I nodded.

He snarled, his movements turning purely violent as his fingers hooked into the deep, plunging neckline of my romper. With a sickening, violent rrip, the fabric gave way. His fist yanked downward, tearing the delicate floral lace straight down the middle, splitting it completely open to my navel.

His eyes fell on me, and the sheer terror caused my chest to heave frantically. Suddenly, his hands wrapped around my chest, his dark eyes looking unstable as he caressed me. I was too terrified to move, or even to speak. Tears started pricking the back of my eyes as he began squeezing again, so hard that sharp pain shot through me immediately.

"Please... stop..." I pleaded, tears finally spilling over. I was beyond scared. Lucien didn't look like himself anymore; his eyes looked completely unhinged as he kept ruthlessly handling my body.

"Please..." I begged for him to stop, my trembling hands fighting against his rough, aggressive grip, but he didn't care.

"Stop it!" I swatted at his hands, and once again, a tense silence filled the dimly lit room as he eyed me with dark, brooding malice.

The sharp sound of ripping fabric broke the silence again. I looked down to see him tearing the scalloped hem of my romper right up to the seam, shredding the fabric until the outfit hung off my body in ruined, hanging threads, leaving my lower body completely bare.

"Stop! Please!" I screamed, the sound raw and echoing in the quiet room as he unbuckled his belt.

"I'm still a virgin!"

The world seemed to stop.

Lucien’s grip on my hips loosened instantly. He stared down at me, his eyes wide and completely disbelieving.

In this city of sin, in this profession, the word "virgin" didn't make sense to him, and for the first time, he looked genuinely rattled.

I didn't wait. I rolled away from his frozen form, scrambling off the bed toward the table, and frantically slammed my fingers into the hidden panic button Mama V had told me about.

The doors burst open seconds later. Mama V stood there, frozen, her eyes taking in the horrific scene.

Lucien was topless, his chest heaving, his pants loosened, and his eyes dark with a chaotic storm of confusion.

On the floor, I was trembling violently, trying to hold the shreds of my outfit together. The white lace was entirely ruined, hanging off my shoulders in jagged strips, the skirt nothing more than a few hanging threads of chiffon.

Mama V rushed over, scooping me into her arms. I sobbed into her shoulder, my entire body shaking with a violent tremor.

I had never felt so terrified in my entire life. Even when the loan sharks had trashed our house, my mother had always stood tall in front of me and Amelia.

For the first time, I truly realized the weight of the burden my mother had been carrying. She had thrown herself into this dark world just to protect us from everything.

Mama V turned to Lucien, her voice trembling with a mix of anger and disappointment. "You're losing it, Lucien," she said sharply. "You are many things—cruel, merciless, a killer—but you have never been a rapist. What happened to you?"

She didn't wait for an answer. She carried me out, the heavy doors hissing shut behind us.

Left alone in the red-and-black silence, Lucien stood motionless. His mind kept echoing Mama V’s words.

He was the man who controlled the city, the man who never lost his cool. And yet, one touch from a girl in white had turned him into a monster he didn't recognize.