Slowly adjusting to his world(2)

The moment the two of them walked into view, heads turned. Whispers fluttered through the warm mid- morning air like wind through leaves. It wasn't hard to see why.

Lucien_ dark, dangerous, and devastatingly handsome_ looked like something straight out of a fantasy. The sun caught the inky strands of his hair, tousled to a perfect imperfection, and the top two buttons of his black shirt were undone, revealing a sliver of smooth, pale chest that hinted at strength beneath refinement. His pants fit him flawlessly, and with every step, there was a kind of effortless authority to his presence.

And beside him… was her.

Kelsey.

In plain black tank top. Worn jeans. A pair of beat-up sneakers. Her outfit screamed girl from the city's edge, while his screamed man who owned it all.

The contrast was stark. Stark enough to draw stares.

She felt every glance like a weight on her skin. Some of them were curious. Others judgmental. A few, envious.

But Lucien?

He walked like he didn't see a single one of them.

Or maybe… he just didn't care.

Not even a flicker of discomfort crossed his face as he led her toward the entrance. He looked at her only once, when the door swung open before them, and in that glance, there was something unreadable.

As they stepped through the glass doors of the upscale boutique, the temperature seemed to shift. The soft chiming of a bell above announced their entrance, but it wasn't what made heads turn_ it was him. Lucien moved with an effortless grace that didn't belong to this world, as though shadows made room for him and light bowed in subtle reverence. The rich black of his shirt hugged his frame, the undone buttons teasing the sight of flawless skin beneath. There was a timelessness to him_ something different about him, something primal cloaked in refinement.

Kelsey walked beside him, quiet and unsure, her steps uncertain but her spine held straight. She could feel it_ every eye in the room on him, on them, on the sharp contrast they painted.

At the front desk, the woman who had been arranging silk scarves behind the counter dropped her task the moment her gaze locked onto him. Her posture shifted in a heartbeat_ spine straighter, lips slightly parted, her voice suddenly caught somewhere between breath and admiration.

"Welcome to Venestra," she said, her tone soft,and dripping with interest.

Lucien's eyes_ deep pools of shadow with hints of restrained flame_ met hers with quiet detachment. He stepped closer to the desk, not with arrogance, but with the authority of someone who never needed to ask twice.

"I'll need a wardrobe," he said. "One that would suit her." His gaze slid briefly to Kelsey.

"A full wardrobe?" the attendant echoed, blinking rapidly as she struggled to regain her composure. "Of course. We_ uh_ we can arrange that. Right away, sir."

Lucien gave a slight nod, the corner of his mouth lifting_ just enough to hint at a smile, yet not quite. The woman was already motioning to a younger attendant at her side, who clearly couldn't stop sneaking glances at Lucien, her cheeks tinged a bashful red.

"Escort them to the private suite," she instructed breathlessly. "And make sure everything is… perfect."

As they were led away, Kelsey found herself stealing a sideways glance at the man beside her_ the man who had just turned a room on its axis with no more than his voice and presence.

They were led to the section of women's clothing_ elegant, glittering, and organized by the hands of luxury. Soft lighting bathed the silk and lace in a golden sheen, casting reflections on the marble floor. It was like stepping into a queen's dressing hall, every item begging to be touched, worn, claimed.

And Kelsey didn't hesitate.

If she was going to be paraded into this life like a trophy, then she would drape herself in the finest silks like armor. She picked clothes without hesitation_ dresses of varying lengths, blouses with delicate embroidery, trousers with clean, sharp cuts. She didn't bother checking sizes. She didn't ask for advice. She walked through the racks like a storm, plucking down every piece that caught her eye.

Lucien watched her from a velvet chaise in the corner of the suite, one arm lazily draped along the backrest. His dark eyes followed her every movement_ not in judgement, but in amusement. There was something fierce about the way she picked everything without caution, as if daring his wealth to falter under the weight of her choices.

He didn't mind. In fact, he was enjoying every moment of it.

She was retaliating in the only way she could_ for now.

But his wealth was the kind that did not flinch, could not tremble. He could buy the boutique, and the next one, and the one after that, and still have change to set empires ablaze.

When she was finally done, a small pile of designer bags already being packed by the attendant, Lucien rose to his feet and said, in a voice smooth and low:

"You've already picked what you wanted…" he paused, his words only meant for her. "…now allow me to choose what I would want to see you in."

Kelsey's breath hitched slightly.

She watched, frozen in place, as he stepped into the dimmer section of the boutique. The ambiance here shifted. No bright lights. No gold-rimmed mirrors. The nightwear section was lined with satin and lace, whispered promises folded on silk hangers.

He chose a few nightgowns_ decent ones in soft whites and pastels. But then, his eye caught something.

A wine-red piece of lingerie.

Barely there, made from sheer, almost transparent lace with intricate black embroidery climbing like vines along the bodice. The neckline plunged into a delicate "V," held by the thinnest of straps. The hem was scandalously short, and the back_ if it could be called one_ was nearly non-existent, save for a whisper of a ribbon that tied above the curve of the hips.

Lucien held it between his fingers, the deep crimson fabric a stark contrast against his pale skin.

Kelsey's eyes widened.

He turned, and with slow, languid steps, he returned to where she stood, stunned and flushed. Then, as if he wasn't carrying temptation itself in his hand, he reached behind her to pick a dress from the rack.

His mouth came close to her ear, his breath warm against her skin.

"I can't wait for the day you'll agree to wear this…" he murmured, holding the lingerie closer so that only she could see. "…Until then, let me keep it."

Her breath caught in her throat, her cheeks flaming with heat she couldn't quite blame on the room's warmth. She turned away sharply, but he was already moving_ calm, composed, as if he hadn't just whispered sin against her skin.

And in the soft flicker of boutique lights, she hated how her body had betrayed her_ how her pulse had stuttered and how her knees had nearly buckled.

Lucien simply handed the nightwear to the stunned attendant, his voice unreadable. "Wrap that one separately."