Chapter 4 — Velvet Hollow’s Schemes

Lucien

The room reeked of decadence and despair, a mingling of aged wine, clove cigarettes, and the faint metallic tang of blood. Velvet draperies in deep crimson hung from the high, vaulted ceiling, their folds devouring the dim light cast by antique chandeliers. The air felt heavy, as though even the shadows carried secrets too burdensome to share. Lucien D’Artois reclined in a high-backed chair of black leather, his lean form draped with the casual elegance of a man who owned the room. His silver-blond hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders, catching the faint light like spun silk. A dark velvet blazer framed his sharp features, the cut just modern enough to echo wealth without surrendering its timeless flair.