Vesper Laurent

A winter gala shimmers with chandeliers and murmured gossip. Vesper enters, satin gown trailing, clutch in hand like a secret blade. Across the marble, Lucien watches, black-suited, storm-grey eyes cool and assessing. Their gazes lock — a duel disguised as curiosity. He bows with mocking grace, she tilts her chin, smile wicked. Words exchanged like blades: polished, cutting, dangerous. The room hums with champagne chatter, but between them sparks a private war.