Chapter 3 – Red Silk and Eyes Like Fire

Natalia stood in front of the full-length mirror, her breath caught in her throat. The red silk clung to her body like a secret. It hugged her waist, dipped low at the chest, and split high on the thigh—higher than she was used to. But the way it shimmered under the apartment’s dim light made her feel… powerful.

She’d borrowed it from a friend who always dressed like trouble. And tonight, she needed that energy.

She applied a touch of lip gloss, tucked her curls behind one ear, and whispered to herself, “You can handle him.”

But her voice trembled slightly.

At 6:55, a black car waited for her outside. Sleek. Silent. Luxurious. The driver didn’t ask questions. Just opened the door like she was royalty.

When she stepped into La Lumière, her heels clicking against the marble floor, time seemed to slow. The restaurant glowed with golden light, chandeliers floating like stars above a sea of velvet booths and champagne flutes.

And then she saw him.

Darian Valente was seated in the far corner, in a private section cordoned off by crystal dividers. His eyes were already on her—as if he’d felt her the moment she walked in. His suit was black again, but the shirt beneath it was blood red, just a few shades darker than her dress.

He rose when she approached, and his gaze dropped slowly—intentionally—from her lips to her collarbone, to the long slit on her thigh… and back to her eyes.

“You followed instructions,” he said softly.

“You didn’t leave room not to,” she replied, keeping her voice calm, controlled.

But she felt everything.

He pulled out her chair. His hand brushed the small of her back—barely a touch, but enough to make her pulse stumble.

A waiter came. Wine was poured. Natalia tried to focus on the client—an older man with a fake smile and slicked-back hair—but every time Darian spoke, every time his voice dipped low with authority, her stomach twisted. He didn’t look at her often during the conversation, but when he did… it was deliberate. Calculated. Electric.

By the time the client left, she was flushed from more than just the wine.

They were alone again.

Darian leaned back in his seat, swirling his glass.

“You handled yourself well,” he said, watching her.

“Thank you.”

“You looked like temptation,” he added.

Her lips parted. “Was that… intentional?”

“Everything I do is intentional.”

A long silence stretched between them. Then he stood slowly, offering his hand.

She stared at it, unsure. “What now?”

“We leave.”

She took it.

His fingers wrapped around hers—warm, steady, and commanding. He didn’t guide her through the restaurant; he owned the path, and she followed.

In the car, he didn’t speak.

But he watched her.

And when the car stopped in front of her apartment building, she reached for the door—but he stopped her.

“Natalia.”

She turned.

And that was all it took.

His hand came up to her cheek, thumb brushing her skin. His eyes dropped to her mouth.

Her breath caught.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

His lips came closer—closer—but stopped just short of a kiss. His breath fanned over her lips.

“You want this?” he asked, voice low, deadly soft.

She didn’t answer.

Because she didn’t know what the right answer was.

And maybe there wasn’t one.

He pulled back slightly, his gaze still locked on hers. “Not tonight,” he whispered. “But soon.”

And just like that, he opened the door for her.

Natalia stepped out into the night, legs trembling.

Her heart was still inside that car.

With him.

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