Chapter 4 – Velvet Chains
[Aria's POV]
It had been three days since Lucien Moretti brought me into his world—a world of glass towers, whispered threats, and the low, constant hum of power. A world where I didn't belong.
Not as his bride.
And definitely not as myself.
I stood at the edge of his office, watching him from behind the glass partition. He was seated behind an obsidian desk, the very image of control. Shirt sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, veins prominent in his forearms as he gripped a phone and barked out orders in Italian.
He hadn't touched me since that first night. He hadn't needed to.
His presence alone was enough to set my nerves alight.
I should've felt relief. Instead, I was going insane.
Every movement was watched. Every outfit was picked. Every moment alone in this penthouse was a battle not to break.
Until now.
"Come in," Lucien said without looking up.
I did.
He hung up the call, eyes finally meeting mine. Those dark, unreadable eyes. "You're not eating."
I folded my arms. "Maybe I'm protesting."
A beat passed.
Then he stood, slowly, moving around the desk like a lion circling prey. "Protesting what, exactly?"
I swallowed hard. "The fact that I'm a hostage in a thousand-dollar dress."
Lucien stopped in front of me. His voice dropped. "You're not a hostage, Aria."
"You could've fooled me."
His hand lifted—slow, deliberate—and he touched my chin with just two fingers, tilting it up. My breath hitched.
"I gave you freedom, in my way," he murmured. "You just haven't realized it yet."
I wanted to scream. Instead, I whispered, "Your way looks a lot like a cage."
His thumb brushed my bottom lip. "A gilded cage is still gold, darling."
His touch was maddening. Gentle and rough, soft and commanding. Every cell in my body vibrated when he touched me, and he knew it. He was playing with tension like it was a weapon.
And it was working.
"You think money makes up for control?" I asked, voice breathy.
"No," he said, stepping closer, brushing his chest against mine. "But pleasure might."
He kissed me.
Hard, full, unapologetic.
And God, I kissed him back.
---
[Lucien's POV]
Her mouth was soft fire. Her body, a contradiction I couldn't stop craving.
I hadn't meant to kiss her tonight. I hadn't needed to. But the moment she walked in, challenging me in that defiant tone, my restraint snapped like glass under pressure.
She wanted control?
I could show her a version of it she'd never survive.
But when her hands curled into my shirt and she kissed me back—hungrily, desperately—I knew something had shifted.
This wasn't just about power anymore.
It was about her.
I lifted her onto the desk in a single motion. Papers scattered, a lamp tipped sideways. She gasped into my mouth as I deepened the kiss, hands sliding up her thighs beneath the silk.
"Lucien—"
"Shut up," I growled. "Or I'll make you forget how to speak."
Her eyes were half-lidded, lips bruised and glistening. "Maybe I want to forget."
My mouth trailed down her neck. She arched against me, legs wrapping around my waist.
And then—
The goddamn phone rang.
I cursed under my breath, pulling away just enough to grab the device off the desk. Aria was still panting, flushed and furious.
"This isn't over," I said quietly, brushing a thumb across her cheek. "You're mine now, Aria. All of you. You'll learn that, eventually."
She didn't reply.
But the look in her eyes told me she was learning it already.
---
[Aria's POV – Later That Night]
I couldn't sleep.
Every time I closed my eyes, I remembered the way Lucien kissed me. The way he touched me like I belonged to him. Like I wanted to.
And maybe, in that moment, I did.
But I hated that.
I hated that part of me—some twisted, dark piece—was starting to crave him.
Not because he was kind. He wasn't.
Not because he was gentle. He wasn't.
But because he made me feel.
And after everything I'd been through, feeling anything at all was dangerous.
I lay in bed, the sheets tangled between my thighs, my body still trembling from the unresolved need he left behind. When the door creaked open and Lucien stepped inside, I didn't move.
"You're awake," he said.
I rolled over to face him. "You expected me to sleep after that?"
He smirked, walking slowly to the bed. "I was hoping you wouldn't."
He slid under the sheets.
The heat between us reignited instantly. His hand slid across my waist, pulling me to him. I gasped as his mouth found my throat, my collarbone, the curve of my shoulder.
"Lucien," I whispered. "What are we doing?"
He pulled back, eyes locked on mine.
"We're burning."
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