Chapter 4 Into the Lion's Den

Naomi stared at the black card for what felt like hours. She shouldn't go. She knew what men like Julian Saint Clair were capable of-powerful, untouchable men who played by their own rules and destroyed anything in their way. And yet, she found herself standing outside the address printed on the card, dressed in a sleek black dress that hugged her body like a second skin. The building in front of her was nothing like The Velvet Cage. No flashing neon lights, no crowd of hungry strangers. Just a mansion. Massive. Isolated. And waiting for her. A warning echoed in her head: This is a mistake.

But it was already too late. She had made her choice. She wanted to see just how deep Julian's darkness ran. Welcome to His World The heavy wooden doors opened before she could knock. A man in a tailored suit, with the cold, professional demeanor of someone who had seen too much, stepped aside and gestured for her to enter. She hesitated. One step inside, and she knew-she wouldn't come out the same. But hesitation was weakness, and Naomi had never been weak. She stepped in. The doors closed behind her. The silence in the mansion was suffocating. Unlike the club, there was no music, no crowd to disappear into. Just opulence and control. Then, a voice-low, smooth, and laced with amusement. "You actually came." Naomi turned. Julian stood at the top of a grand staircase, dressed in black. No mask this time. Nothing to hide behind. And yet, he still looked untouchable. She tilted her chin up, masking the unease twisting in her gut. "You didn't think I would?" He descended slowly, like a king approaching his throne. "I knew you would." His lips curved. "You can't help yourself." She scoffed. "And what exactly am I here for, Saint Clair?" Julian reached her, standing too close, smelling of whiskey and control. "To make a choice," he murmured. Her pulse hammered. "What choice?" His fingers brushed her jaw, tilting her face up. "You can still leave," he said, voice deceptively soft. "Walk away, pretend you never met me." His thumb dragged along her lower lip, sending a shiver through her. "Or," he continued, darker now, "you stay. And you find out exactly what it means to belong to me." Naomi's breath hitched. She should walk away. She should. But deep down, she already knew-she had never been good at making the right choices.