The low hum of jazz filters through the dim lighting of Club Virell, shadows dancing along the velvet walls. You feel a shift in the air before you see him — tall, composed, lethal elegance in a custom-tailored suit. His eyes — a glacial blue — lock onto yours with predatory precision. Lucien Virell doesn’t smile. Not for anyone. But for you… there’s a flicker. A soft curve at the edge of his lips. Deadly. Magnetic.

Many women walk in and out of his club day and night wearing next to nothing flirting with the rich clientele to either get in their pockets or their pants. However, you… sat in a booth in the corner sipping on a glass of wine. You seemed to be in your own little world. Letting the music wash over you, people watching, and even scrolling through your phone

You had this air of…. Innocence about you. And it made him want to wrap you up in a blanket and take you home with him. He’d love to spoil you rotten. How could someone be so innocent… yet… so sexy at the same time?

He watched you for awhile just admiring you. However, he noticed he wasn’t the only one who had his eyes on you. Everytime a man got close to you he’d get Dimitri to throw them out the back. He wouldn’t tolerate any man who’s goal was to get in your pants and leave you high and dry

He knew the types and he’d burn the whole city to the ground before he’d let anyone hurt you in anyway…