Kael's hand lingered at the small of her back for a moment before he stepped away.
"I'll return shortly," he said.
Shortly.
Rich-people shortly.
Which probably meant anywhere between five minutes and forty-five.
Aria nodded. "I'll… try not to break anything."
His mouth curved faintly before he turned, moving toward a group of older men gathered near the far end of the hall.
The moment he joined them, the energy shifted again.
It was subtle.
But undeniable.
They weren't just talking to him.
They were listening.
Aria stood alone for exactly eight seconds before she felt awkward.
Ten seconds before she pretended to examine a painting.
Fifteen seconds before she decided pretending to examine art was exhausting.
She drifted toward a table near the wall, lowering herself into one of the cushioned chairs. From here, she could still see Kael.
He looked composed.
Effortless.
Dangerous in a way that didn't shout — it whispered.
She exhaled slowly.
This entire night felt unreal.
Her gaze wandered.
The chandelier sparkled overhead. A string quartet played somewhere out of sight. Conversations floated through the air in low, controlled murmurs.
She reached for a glass of something bubbly on the table and took a cautious sip.
It tasted expensive.
And confusing.
"Enjoying yourself?"
Her spine stiffened.
She didn't need to turn to know who it was.
Lucien slid into the chair opposite her like he had every right to be there.
His posture was relaxed.
Too relaxed.
Aria forced a polite smile.
"It's… beautiful here."
"It is," he agreed. His eyes studied her openly. "Though beauty can be deceiving."
Why did everyone here talk like they were auditioning for a villain monologue?
She placed her glass down.
"You and Kael seem… close," she tried.
Lucien's lips twitched.
"That's one word for it."
He reached for a nearby tray as a waiter passed, taking a fresh drink and placing it in front of her.
"You should try this one," he said smoothly. "It's rare."
Aria hesitated.
"I'm okay."
"I insist."
His tone was gentle.
But something underneath it wasn't.
She glanced toward Kael instinctively.
He was still deep in conversation.
Lucien followed her gaze.
"He's occupied," he murmured. "He always is."
Something about the way he said that made her stomach tighten.
She slowly picked up the glass.
Just to be polite.
Just to not make this weird.
She took a small sip.
It was sweet.
Too sweet.
And something else.
Something she couldn't place.
Lucien leaned forward slightly.
"Tell me," he said quietly, "how long have you been working for my brother?"
"Not long."
"And in that short time," his eyes sharpened, "has he ever frightened you?"
Her heart skipped.
The question was too direct.
She let out a soft laugh. "Frightened? No."
Lucien didn't smile back.
"He has a… temper."
Everyone has a temper, she wanted to say.
But the memory flickered.
A dark alley.
Blood.
A body hitting the ground.
And eyes.
Red eyes.
She had told herself it was the lighting.
A trick of adrenaline.
Her imagination.
She had never spoken about it.
Not to him.
Not to anyone.
She placed the drink down carefully.
"I think I need some air," she said, standing.
Lucien didn't stop her.
He simply watched.
That was worse.
The mansion was bigger than it looked from outside.
Aria realized that after walking down her third unfamiliar hallway.
The music from the hall grew faint.
The lighting dimmer.
Portraits lined the walls — old ones. Stern faces. Dark backgrounds.
She wrapped her arms around herself.
Why did this part of the house feel colder?
She turned a corner.
And stopped.
He was standing there.
Lucien.
As though he had always been there.
Waiting.
Her breath hitched.
"How did you—?"
"You shouldn't wander," he said softly.
His voice echoed slightly in the empty corridor.
Her pulse began to race.
"I just needed air."
He took a slow step toward her.
"You're not like the others he brings."
"He doesn't bring anyone," she blurted.
Lucien's gaze darkened.
"Exactly."
Another step.
Her back hit the wall before she realized she'd been retreating.
"Stay away from him," Lucien said.
The softness vanished.
The words were sharp now.
Like a command.
"I don't know what you think is happening," she said, her voice unsteady, "but I'm just his assistant."
"You are in danger."
Her heart pounded.
"From what?"
"From him."
Silence stretched.
Her throat tightened.
"That's ridiculous."
Lucien tilted his head slightly.
"Is it?"
The air felt wrong.
Heavy.
Charged.
"You've seen something, haven't you?" he pressed.
Her stomach dropped.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
His expression shifted.
Something cold slid into place behind his eyes.
"Denial is a fragile shield, Aria."
The way he said her name made her skin prickle.
"I'm leaving," she said, trying to step around him.
His hand shot out, gripping her wrist.
Not painfully.
But firmly.
She looked up—
—and froze.
His eyes.
They weren't grey anymore.
They were red.
Not reflection.
Not lighting.
Red.
Glowing faintly in the dim corridor.
Her blood ran cold.
Her mind screamed.
Because she had seen that before.
That alley.
That night.
Kael standing over someone who would never stand again.
And his eyes had been red too.
She had convinced herself she imagined it.
That trauma had twisted her memory.
But this—
This was real.
Lucien watched the recognition dawn on her face.
"Yes," he said quietly. "Now you understand."
Her voice trembled. "What are you?"
A faint, humorless smile curved his lips.
"Careful."
His grip tightened slightly.
"You don't want answers you're not prepared for."
Terror crawled up her spine.
"You're lying," she whispered desperately. "This is some kind of trick."
Lucien leaned closer.
"Kael is not what you think he is."
Her breathing turned shallow.
"Stay away from him," he repeated.
The red in his eyes flared slightly.
And in that moment, something inside her shifted.
Fear.
Recognition.
Truth.
She yanked her hand back with surprising strength.
"I don't care what you are," she said, though her voice shook. "You don't get to threaten me."
For a split second, something like admiration flickered across his face.
Then—
A voice cut through the corridor.
"Lucien."
The red vanished instantly.
Grey again.
Normal.
Kael stood at the end of the hallway.
Still.
Silent.
But the air around him was lethal.
Lucien stepped back smoothly.
"We were talking."
Kael's gaze moved to Aria.
His eyes scanned her face.
Her trembling hands.
Then shifted to his brother.
A quiet storm gathered behind them.
"I warned you," Lucien said calmly.
Kael's jaw tightened.
"Leave."
It wasn't loud.
But it wasn't a suggestion.
Lucien held his gaze for a long, tense moment.
Then he turned and walked away.
Just like that.
Aria remained frozen against the wall.
Her pulse was still racing.
Kael approached slowly.
"Are you hurt?" he asked.
His voice was controlled.
Too controlled.
She looked up at him.
At his eyes.
Grey.
Normal.
But now she wasn't sure what normal meant.
"…What are you?" she whispered before she could stop herself.
Something unreadable flickered across his face.
The space between them felt fragile.
He didn't answer.
And somehow…
That terrified her more than if he had.
The truth was no longer hiding in shadows.
It was standing in front of her.
Waiting.
Kael didn't answer immediately.
The corridor felt too narrow.
Too charged.
His gaze dropped to her wrist — the one Lucien had held.
A faint redness lingered against her skin.
Something shifted in his expression.
Darkened.
His hand lifted slowly.
"Did he hurt you?" he asked again, softer this time.
She swallowed. "I'm fine."
He didn't look convinced.
His thumb brushed gently over her wrist, barely touching, but enough to send warmth spreading up her arm.
The contact was careful.
Reverent.
Like she was something fragile.
Something he wasn't supposed to damage.
His jaw tightened slightly.
"He doesn't get to touch what's mine."
The words were quiet.
Controlled.
But they landed heavy.
Aria's breath caught.
"I'm not—" she started, but her voice faltered.
Not what?
Not his?
Because the way he was looking at her right now made it very difficult to argue that point.
He stepped closer.
Not trapping her.
Just… closing the distance.
"You should have stayed beside me," he murmured.
There was no anger in it.
Only something deeper.
Almost… regret.
"I didn't know I needed supervision," she tried, aiming for sarcasm, but it came out unsteady.
His lips curved faintly.
"You do."
Her heart betrayed her and skipped.
The dangerous part wasn't his power.
It was this.
The way he looked at her like the rest of the world had suddenly become optional.
The way the tension in his shoulders hadn't eased since he saw Lucien near her.
The way his hand was still wrapped around her wrist — not tight, not controlling.
Just there.
Anchoring.
As if confirming she was real.
As if confirming she was safe.
His thumb traced that spot again unconsciously.
A possessive gesture.
But protective.
Not predatory.
"If anyone makes you uncomfortable," he said quietly, eyes locking onto hers, "you come to me."
The intensity in his gaze made her pulse flutter.
"And what would you do?" she whispered.
Something ancient flickered behind his eyes.
Something that did not belong in a corporate boardroom.
"I would handle it."
No theatrics.
No smile.
Just certainty.
For a split second, the fear she'd felt earlier tangled with something else entirely.
Security.
And that was far more dangerous.
Because monsters were easier to run from.
But a monster who shields you?
Who claims you softly instead of violently?
That's the kind you start walking toward on your own.
Kael released her wrist slowly.
But his fingers lingered for half a heartbeat too long.
"Stay with me," he said.
Not a command.
Not quite a request.
Just a truth.
And for reasons she didn't want to examine too closely—
She nodded.
And across the hall, unseen by her, Lucien watched.
His expression unreadable.
Because Kael wasn't just protecting her.
He was claiming her.
And Aria didn't yet understand what that truly meant.