The city lights stretched endlessly outside the floor-to-ceiling windows of Lucian Vale's private lounge, but he barely glanced at them. He didn't need them. The world watched him, waited for him, and he liked it that way.
A man tried to approach him, bold and confident, leaning against the bar with a grin. "Lucian, always a pleasure—"
The smile on Lucian's lips curved slightly, lazy and casual. "I wouldn't say that," he murmured, voice soft but dangerous, like velvet covering steel. The man froze mid-step, a flicker of unease passing across his face. Lucian tilted his head, letting his gaze linger just long enough. He could see it in the subtle tremble of his fingers, the way his jaw tightened. He was already regretting it.
"Excuse me?" the man asked, forcing confidence.
Lucian's eyes sparkled with amusement. "Confidence is admirable," he said softly, "but do you know what's smarter?" He let the words hang. "Knowing when to step back."
The man swallowed hard. He had heard the rumors. Everyone had. But being in Lucian Vale's presence was entirely different. The man felt the weight of Lucian's attention, even without a single hand raised against him. One wrong word, one careless smile, one lapse of judgment—and his career, reputation, and pride would crumble quietly, invisibly, without Lucian even breaking a sweat.
Lucian turned, casually running his fingers along the rim of his glass. He didn't need to touch anyone to dominate them. He didn't need to raise his voice. His presence alone was a law. People wanted him. They craved his approval, his attention, even a fleeting glance. But more than that… they feared him.
Because everyone who had crossed him—careless, arrogant fools—had learned the truth: Lucian never struck publicly. He didn't need to. By the time you realized he had acted, it was already too late. Doors closed quietly. Opportunities vanished. Allies turned into strangers. And you were left wondering… how did this man—this beautiful, perfect man—destroy you without even lifting a finger?
A woman approached timidly, hoping to charm him, laugh with him, maybe catch a flicker of warmth. Lucian glanced at her, faint smirk playing at his lips. She froze under the weight of his eyes. "You're careful," he said softly, almost kindly. "I like that. But don't think that will save you if you misstep."
Her stomach knotted. Her admiration twisted with fear. That was the magic of Lucian Vale: he made people want him, and fear him equally.
He moved through the room like a shadow that everyone noticed but could never reach. Handsome. Naughty. Calculating. Untouchable. Every word, every glance, every soft laugh was a game—and he alone held the rules.
By the time he left the lounge, a faint trail of whispers followed him. "He's untouchable."
"They say he never forgets."
"Don't cross him."
Lucian smiled quietly to himself as the door closed behind him. Yes, they feared him. Yes, they wanted him. And that… was exactly how he liked it.
Because fear was the ultimate control. Desire was the bonus. And Lucian Vale? He had both in his hands.