Goldsin (The Chrysophilist Trilogy Book 1)
Goldsin: Chapter 19

Click, click.

At the muffled sound my hand freezes in the air. Head tilting toward the entrance door, I hold my breath as I strain my ears.

The door creaks open, and a set of piercing eyes crash with mine.

“Still not over your bad habits?” I raise a brow, clutching the black beaded Jacquemus shoulder bag Eleanora gifted me for my twenty-fifth birthday. “You know you can knock, right?”

Julian rests his body sideways against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest, creasing his black shirt. He’s wearing all-black today, and I can’t help but feel like it’s an omen of how things are going to be from now on after last night.

“Knocking is for strangers.”

His voice is a delicate frost to the skin: pleasant on the surface, but painful once it reaches past your layers. I truly listen to it, hearing those icy undertones caused by a night of suffering at the hands he should expect an embrace from.

He’s good at masking.

How many times has he hid behind a wall of indifference? How many times did I not see what was really going on inside of him?

“We need to leave.” He makes a scene of checking his clock before adding, “Now.”

“What? Why?” I frown.

“Doesn’t matter. We only have half an⁠—”

“Excuse me!” I all but scoff. “We aren’t going anywhere. I have a date with Eleanora. So if you’ll excuse me⁠—”

He stares at me, expressionless, like I never cut him off. “. . . hour to get there, and at this hour, the streets will be jammed. Grab your things, and let’s go.”

So I play him at his own game.

“If you’ll excuse me, she is expecting me.” I grab the keys to the apartment and twirl them around my finger.

“Eleanora won’t be joining your little tea party tonight,” he says casually, closing the space between us until he’s towering over me. “She’ll be too busy sucking Emeric’s dick.”

My cheeks burn up at his words, heat spreading to my belly, my whole body betrayed by the desire he just plunged into me with those three little words.

I shouldn’t be so affected. Even if the words swirled around his mouth before reaching my ears in the form of velvet.

His finger dances on my skin as he tracks the pink staining my cheeks, my neck, and my chest. “Little fox,” he whispers, reading the expansion of my pupils perfectly. Noticing the hitch of my breath.

I raise a brow at the unexpected nickname before my eyes flick down to his lips. So damn close. If I detested myself—and I do—it would take me a second to taste them. To press all my wants and needs onto the tip of his tongue.

I want him to thrust into me with enough force to make me forget all those years he ignored me. I want him to match the scars he left inside of me, on my bare skin. I want to feel every single emotion he ever caused me, even the bad ones, because those will taste sweeter than honey once I remind myself how all the shit he put me through brought me here.

Julian breaks the moment, taking a step away from me. The dark circles under his eyes are the same shade as his hair, holding my gaze captive as images of last night flood my mind.

He notices the way I’m studying him and in a second turns around, heading for the door. I watch his lean yet muscular figure retreat, and all I can think of is the way those muscles strain when he fights.

Now I know why he fights. Now I understand the Den a little more.

A hollowness grows in the pit of my belly—it’s been growing there since I saw Lucian’s enjoyment reflected in Julian and Lady Harrow’s pained eyes.

I hear him sigh as he halts on the threshold. His head tilts back as if he’s tired of all this. Then he turns around fully and stalks back toward me.

Without even allowing me time to react, he wraps his strong arms around my waist, and in one swift motion he throws me over his shoulder.

“Julian!” Blood floods my mind. “Put me down!” I bang my fists on his back, using all my force, hoping to leave a mark or two.

Air swirls around my bare leg, up under my denim skirt, as his hand squeezes me in place at the crease of my ass.

I think I’m flashing the whole body of guards. Valentine is going to kill me for this.

We arrive at the underground garage. Julian opens the door to a black SUV and sets me down. He buckles my seat belt as I shake off the confusion. Then he rounds the car and sits next to me.

“Let’s go,” he orders the driver, gaze fixed out the window.

“Why aren’t we taking your bike?”

The car roars to life.

Without turning to look at me, he says, “Because I won’t be able to drive it later tonight when we need to get back.”

His words hang in the air between us, their underlying heaviness weighing on my mind as it races back to his dark circles and sour mood. His gaze remains fixed out the window on the city outside, while I can’t take mine away from him.

The tension in his shoulders is impossible to miss—the way his fingers twitch, like he’s reliving memories even his own muscles haven’t had time to forget.

He could mean anything with that cryptic comment, but somehow the only thing I can think of is that tonight he wants to forget about yesterday. And tonight he’ll need me to do it.

Needles jab my skin at the thought. I don’t know what he has in store, but I’ll do anything to help him the way I couldn’t yesterday.

Seattle comes to life as the sun sets, the streets overflowing with people eager to get home to their loved ones, while groups of pedestrians mingle around before going to their destination for the night.

It may be Thursday, but the August summer air screams for the night not to go to waste. Though it’s chillier here than in other states, when you deal with snowy winters like ours, this is paradise.

Especially for someone like me, who hates the snow.

I’ve never understood the excitement of celebrating something that conceals everything of its beauty. That kills with its faux fragility. Maybe it’s because I was born on November 21, the month snow begins to cover the city. The month my mother died.

I hate snow. Nothing good comes from it.

Fifteen minutes pass, and I turn to Julian. “Where are we going again?”

I’ve been on this side of town a lot with Eleanora, but no specific place comes to mind that Julian would want to take me to.

He seems lost in thought, but at the sound of my voice he snaps out of it. His eyelids are drooping—not from physical tiredness but mental exhaustion.

“We’re attending an Inferno Consortium new member event. It’s like an open evening. Victoria will be there.”

Her name leaves an acrid taste in my mouth. I’d forgotten about her. Between Marcus and last night, my priorities have been completely misplaced. I guess my attendance tonight isn’t because Julian needs me to help him forget about his father but because I have a job to complete. Victoria is the one who needs my entertainment. Well, ours.

I glance down at my short light-wash denim skirt, tight black T-shirt, light-wash denim jacket, and black high-heeled boots. Black sunglasses push my hair away from my face. This outfit screams “unsuitable for a night with the Inferno Consortium.”

“Julian?”

He hums his response.

“I don’t think my outfit is appropriate for where we’re going.”

He gives me a slow once-over before a smirk greets me. “Don’t worry. No one will even notice.”

The SUV comes to a sudden halt, and the car behind us honks while Julian exits, leaving me to scramble quickly out behind him. His words circle back and forth.

I’m out of the car when I spot a neon purple sign reading “Lavish Eden” glowing down at me, and I immediately understand what Julian meant by “no one will even notice.” This isn’t one of those typical posh restaurants.

Julian is the first to walk inside, and I’m just behind him, hyperaware of the guards as they look me up and down. Maybe I underestimated this place . . .

As we push through the curtains, low purple lights blind me.

Oh, I definitely underestimated this place.

Different shades of purple adorn every inch of the club. Long velvet couches and sleek glass tables with matching drapes frame the stage, where poles are fixed to the ceiling, stretching to the floor.

I can almost taste the sensual atmosphere. Feel the expensive furnishings.

On the right is a row of doors. I guess those are the private booths for when someone pays extra for a moment of intimacy.

Lavish Eden is a stunning strip club. The opposite of tacky.

The excessive purple could put anyone off, but there are soft lights casting shadows all over the place, leaving it dark, mysterious and exciting.

This isn’t a kid’s dream. This is an adult’s fantasy.

Eleanora would love this place.

A crowd is already forming at the far end of the room. Everyone is dressed in their own way, all very formal, but not in the dress code typically expected of an Inferno Consortium function.

“Welcome, everyone, to Lavish Eden!”

We all turn toward the voice onstage.

A guy the same age as Adrian, twenty-nine or so, stands with his hands in his black pants. His face is slightly concealed by the shadows dancing across it, but I can see the sharp line of his jaw and the playful smirk stretching his lips.

“Is that the new member?” I murmur to Julian.

He narrows his eyes a little as he tries to see the guy’s face. “Yeah. He arrived last night. We still haven’t been introduced.”

Last night? He set up a business from afar?

“Impressive.”

“Aurelia,” Julian breathes. “Don’t provoke me.”

My lips part as I feel his words caressing the side of my neck. The act leaves a confused sensation in my stomach, and I ache at just the thought.

“Tonight,” the new member continues, “we celebrate the opening of our newest location, Lavish Eden. I invite you all to indulge. Let the night be filled with your wildest fantasies!”

The crowd erupts into cheers. Everyone applauds as the curtains drape closed and the night finally begins.

I smile at his words, the cheering of the crowd leaving me excited for Lavish Eden to bring my wildest fantasies to life. If I knew what those looked like.

My attention flickers to Julian. I know who it involves.

“Let me know when you find Victoria,” Julian says, then he leaves me for a conversation with a group of Lucian’s friends.

“What? I thought we were doing this together.”

It’s useless—he’s already gone before I can finish my complaining.

I scan the room once more in the hope of finding Victoria. Is she even here yet?

Cheering from behind startles me, and I turn to find a pair of guests clinking their glasses together as waitresses and waiters weave their way through the crowd.

Trays overflow with drinks, food, and a variety of drugs to choose from. But what catches my attention is the pink netting covering the staff’s faces and their thin purple lingerie. Stripes of bold pink paint their skin, glittering whenever light shines on them.

The mysterious new member of the Inferno Consortium was right: this is a wild fantasy.

Dancers start to spread through the room, each one taking their place on the stage. I’m entranced by the swaying moves of one of them when a soft weight falls on my shoulders, trailing down my arms. Sending shivers down my whole body.

I tilt my face to the right as the dancer’s fingers move to my waist. She encircles me, hands leaving scorching trails over my body. Then, as fast as she appeared, she leaves for the stage. A sultry smile is playing on her lips when she looks back at me.

I know I’m heating up. I know my cheeks must be the color of lava, and that my chest is moving up and down too quickly to be defined as normal.

She swirls around the pole, one hand gripping it.

Her body is completely covered in deep purple. She’s naked, aside from a barely-there thong. Her hips sway in sync with the music, her eyes never leaving mine as she arches her back against the pole, one leg anchoring her in place as she spins down it.

A giggle erupts from my lips as I admire her talent.

I can feel Julian’s eyes on me. I know he saw the way she played with me before she went onstage. I dare a glance at where he’s standing⁠—

He arches his brow.

And I smirk.

People are talking to him, but he’s too preoccupied with observing me.

“You’ve made quite the impression,” an upbeat voice whispers from behind me.

“Victoria!” I feign surprise. “I didn’t know you’d be here.”

Her hair is pinned to fall over one of her shoulders, red-stained lips matching the underside of her black heels, and a black suit clings to her curves. On her neck a diamond necklace disappears between her cleavage.

Relief floods through me to know she found me.

This time I don’t have a plan. Because this time I can’t kill her. I was sent here to entertain her as Lucian wants me to.

But even if I can’t kill her, I can still use this opportunity to get closer to her, establishing my usefulness for the next time, when I’ll be following my revenge plan instead.

“Of course.” She brushes invisible lint off her sleeves. Her fingernails are painted a deep red, long and pointed. They could carve an eyeball out. “It’s not every day one gets to attend an event like this. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

A waiter saunters past us, and before they can move to the rest of the people, Victoria plucks two vodka shots from the pale pink tray. Clinking her glass with mine, she gives me a stretched look, waiting to see what kind of partier I am.

I take the shot.

My eyes squeeze shut, a grimace etched onto my features as I swallow the burning liquid down.

I fucking love vodka.

Shaking my face a little, I feel my muscles tighten with excitement before the inevitable moment where life feels as light as a feather.

When I open my eyes again, it’s to Victoria holding two new shots in her hands. This time I don’t wait for her to offer it. Instead I hold mine up in salute and swallow it down.

“I knew I liked you for a reason.” She beams.

We continue to drink and drink, one shot after the other, until one becomes five and I can’t feel my legs anymore. But whoever gave two shits about feeling their legs when their mind felt like a cloud? You could spill my life’s darkest secrets and I wouldn’t even bat an eye.

I’m starting to hate the idea of entertaining Victoria even less.

Sweat glides down my back, hair sticking out in every direction from the countless hours of dancing. Or maybe it was just forty-five minutes. I can’t really tell with the tinted windows.

Yet Victoria looks pristine. Only her bloodshot eyes reveal the amount of alcohol she’s consumed—and her uncontrollable giggling anytime one of the waiters gets close to an elderly couple. I thought old people lost their sight once they reached a certain age, but that woman sure knows how to appreciate a man with just her eyes.

And the husband hates it.

“Another round!” Victoria cheers, and in an instant, two shots appear in her hands.

“Woohoo!” I throw my head back, swallowing down the burning liquid as the room starts to spin.

“Hey.” Victoria rests her hand on my shoulder. A playful smirk stretches her lips as she glances toward the dancers. “I dare you to go up there and join them.”

A hiccup leaves my lips. Shaking my head, I feel my movements slow down. “No way. I can’t dance like they do!”

The dancers sway their hips as the soft lights caress their tempting curves. Their movements are calculated, professional. I’d make a fool out of myself if I attempted to do the same.

Victoria leans her lips on my ear, her voice honeyed as she says, “Come on. Just for a bit.”

The words send chills over my heated body with all the alcohol coursing through it. I feel the dainty touch of her fingers as they find the hem of my shirt, and she caresses the bare skin there. My breath hitches, a spark trailing through every drunken part of my body.

“Please?”

There’s something different about Victoria right now as she coaxes me gently, almost like her words are hiding something from me. Her vulnerability, maybe? No . . . she may be drunk, and her words are sweeter than they usually are, but her eyes are as sharp as a blade.

She wants to see if I’ll loosen up and give in to the night—to the ways of the Inferno Consortium. She’s suspicious of me, testing how far I’m willing to take it.

Not only that, but this will deepen our bond.

The closer I can get to her, the closer I’ll get to killing her.

My teeth sink into my lower lip, and I glance sideways, locking eyes with Julian. He hasn’t stopped looking at me, and the thought of him seeing me strip in a room full of people sends a pulsing ache down to the space between my legs.

“Fine. But only if you count to ten.” I give her a serious look. “That’s how long I’ll be up there. Not a second more.”

“Deal!”

I make my way toward the stage on wobbly legs. The dancer steps to the side, giving me a long smirk before gesturing for me to come up and take her place.

I can only hear the click of my heels as I ascend the stairs, heartbeat pulsing wildly as I try to catch the rhythm of the song playing out.

Stumbling a little, I grab the pole for support. My back is to the audience, and when I turn toward them, giggling to myself, I freeze.

Then Victoria decides to whistle at me, calling for everyone’s attention.

Swallowing to wet my dry mouth, I focus my attention on one person. The reason I chose to do this in the first place.

His piercing eyes wait patiently, and I sway my hips. Slowly at first, not giving too much too soon. I take my jacket off, making a show of waving it in the air and throwing it at the crowd.

One.

“Yes!” Victoria cheers. “Give us more.”

The bass of the song pounds in my ear, the beat calming me down, allowing my body to sway smoothly as I brush my hands from my hips to the ceiling. My neck stretches to the side as I brush my hair away, showing the audience—showing him—where I’d like him to sink his teeth.

The cool metal bites at my fingertips. The feeling against my heated skin makes me delirious.

Two.

I step in front of the pole, pressing my back against it like the dancer did. I arch my back and let my head fall as I roll my hips. The hardness of the pole against my ass causes a gasp to part my lips.

Julian tilts his head to the side, his eyes the darkest shade of blue, the dirtiest smirk on his lips.

He knows. The cocky bastard knows I’m thinking of him as I grind on the pole.

Three.

Moving forward with my chin held high, I turn to the side, bend my upper body forward a little, and unbutton my skirt. I push the material down my legs. Slowly. Heavily. Making sure it pops as it passes my ass then drops at my feet.

I think the crowd cheers. Their voices filter in one ear and out the other.

The stage lights cast a glow over my body, the pearl-white thong I’m wearing contrasting with the rich room.

Four.

Circling around the pole, I give him a complete view of me. My arm is propped over my head, hand slipping along the pole.

Someone is now standing next to Julian, but I can’t see who from here. Whoever it is, they’re not important enough to make him take his eyes off me.

The thought makes me smile.

Big, bad Julian Harrow, and I have him wrapped around my little finger.

I continue to circle the pole, the click of my heels getting swallowed by the crescendo of the song.

Five.

Hooking my fingers around the hem of my shirt, I throw it over my head and into the crowd.

Victoria catches it and swings it in the air. Then smells it.

I shake my head a bit, eyes glassy from the shots of vodka. I think the alcohol is making me see things.