Chapter 2 Velvet

The night air in the city hit different.

Hotter. Louder. More alive.

Julian's new apartment was just off campus-small, white walls, empty fridge, echoing floors. Her roommate wouldn't arrive for another few days, and the silence was maddening.

So she did what broken girls do.

She got dressed.

The streets of Manhattan never really slept. Neon lights reflected off wet pavement as Julian walked, heels clicking, lips painted red - like war paint. The red dress hugged her hips, short enough to feel dangerous.

She didn't have a destination.

She just needed escape.

That's when she saw it.

A black-on-red neon sign. Velvet. No line. No crowd. Just a bouncer in a sleek black coat who looked her over and nodded once.

She walked in.

And everything changed.

Inside, Velvet pulsed like temptation. The walls were crimson and gold. The bar glowed beneath a chandelier that looked like dripping blood. The music was a deep, sensual thump. It wasn't a club. It was a different world.

Julian ordered a drink she couldn't pronounce and threw it back like a dare. Her throat burned, her heart still sore - but here, in this heat and haze, the pain dulled.

Until she felt eyes.

She glanced up. Past the bar. Into the VIP section framed by black velvet curtains.

He sat there.

Tall. Dark suit. Face sharp enough to wound. Two men flanked him like guards, but he was the one who held the room.

And his eyes were on her.