He stood at the far end of the room, surrounded by a respectful distance no one dared to breach. Tall. Impeccable in black. Dark hair swept back from a face carved with aristocratic precision — cheekbones sharp, mouth set in a line that promised neither kindness nor patience.
And his eyes… steel-gray, glinting under the chandelier’s light as they swept over the crowd.
When they landed on me, it was like being caught in the crosshairs.
Enigma.
I didn’t need a label to know. This was the “Alpha of Alphas” the internet whispered about in fan theories — an Enigma whose dominance could strip you bare without laying a finger on you.
Lucien’s gaze didn’t move. He didn’t smile. He didn’t blink. He simply watched as Isabella led me closer, his attention pinning me to the spot like I was already his.
Isabella Morttia
Mr. D’Aramond,
Isabella greeted, her tone respectful but not shy.
Isabella Morttia
I’d like you to meet—
Lucien D’Aramond ( ML )
“Adrian Vale,”
he finished for her, his voice low, velvety, and utterly certain.
I raised a brow.
Adrian Vale ( MC )
You seem to know me already. Should I be flattered or concerned?
A faint smile ghosted his lips.
Lucien D’Aramond ( ML )
I make it a point to know anyone worth knowing.
Adrian Vale ( MC )
And here I thought we’d just met,
I said lightly, but my pulse was sharper than I wanted to admit.
His gaze drifted — slow, deliberate — from my face down to my shoulders, my chest, my hands. Not lascivious. Assessing. Claiming.
Finally, he leaned in, his breath brushing my ear.
Lucien D’Aramond ( ML )
We haven’t met before, Adrian. But we will again. Soon.
The air between us thickened, my Alpha instincts clashing with the pull of his Enigma dominance. It wasn’t submission I felt — it was the bone-deep awareness that this man could take everything from me if he wanted to.
And from the way Lucien’s lips curved when he straightened, I had the distinct feeling… that was exactly what he planned to do.
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