Goldsin (The Chrysophilist Trilogy Book 1)
Goldsin: Chapter 2

I spot her fiery red hair first.

She’s straightened it, pinning it in such a way that it falls seamlessly down her open back. I’ve never liked it when she does that, because the locks of curls that fall over her forehead when she gets frustrated have a different kind of appeal. They make me mad with the need to thread my fingers through them and pull her to me.

It suits her better, being wild and untamed.

There’s a sudden shift in the room as she weaves her way through the crowd. The chatter buzzing around me vanishes as I watch those defiant green eyes scan the room before landing on me.

She gives me a once-over, indifference evident in her posture. Yet I see the flutter of her lashes the moment she notices I’m staring back. The rise and fall of her chest is impossible to miss.

Yet she doesn’t come to me. Instead she turns around and heads in the opposite direction, far from me.

Snatching another full glass from the passing waiter, I drown myself in alcohol.

Ten years of ignoring her and it’s taken only one second of her ignoring me for me to lose it.

“Mr. Harrow, I must say, your family throws the most exquisite parties!” a woman gushes next to me, her neon-pink lips stretching into a smile, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes at her.

Instead I lean against the wall, already exasperated by the charade. It’s not been long since I arrived at this hellhole, and I can barely feign interest.

I grunt in response.

She mentioned her name not too long ago. But I already forgot it.

I don’t give two shits about the family business; even less about these time-consuming events that serve no purpose. I’d rather be out there bashing some fucker’s face in at the Den, my underground fight club. Or watching a fucker’s face get bashed in by someone else. I’m not picky really.

“Your tattoos are quite fascinating.” The woman brushes her finger over the ink peeking out from beneath the sleeve of my tailored suit. “I’ve always loved a man with art on his body.”

If it weren’t for Aurelia commanding my full attention, I’d be sick to my stomach at how this woman is touching me. Flirting with me when I’m young enough to be her son.

Unable to tear my eyes away, I follow Aurelia’s every move.

She stands tall and confident in the room, commanding attention, her chin jutted out defiantly as she sways through the crowd. The silver material of her dress hugs her curves perfectly.

She’s in the middle of the ballroom when my mother approaches her. A warm light cascades over them from the nearby candles. Flecks of burned honey make Aurelia’s eyes appear almost angelic.

Almost.

In an instant, images of that night consume my mind. I grind my teeth at the memory of her touch. Her taste⁠—

Fuck.

“Julian, are you even listening to me?”

I inhale a deep breath at the interruption. The woman stares at me expectantly.

“Whatever you say won’t convince me to fuck your dry cunt tonight,” I grunt, my gaze glued to Aurelia despite the gasps and scoffs coming from Stevie.

Or maybe her name was Stacie.

I don’t even notice Lacey leave, nor that my glass is empty now.

All I see is her.

Until my gaze flickers across the room, over to my brother, and I notice the way he’s staring at her, his dark eyes narrowing as if he’s seeing something I’m not.

Without a second thought I march toward him.

“Enjoying the view?” As I sidle up to him his lips curl into a thin smile, betraying nothing. Yet his eyes remain glued on her, assessing.

“Can’t say I am.” He takes a sip from his glass. “But it seems you are, little brother. Don’t bother. She’s nothing more than a tight ass.”

“She wasn’t even that to you,” I bite out.

If the dickhead talks about her ass so carelessly one more time, I’ll make sure he’s sitting front-row while I make every inch of her mine.

“Come on, Julian. You think she’d ever want to fuck someone like you?” He peeks at me before adding, “She’s out of your league, and you know it.”

“Is that a challenge?”

I kept my distance all those years. Never looked at her or even acknowledged her existence.

You fool. What about that night at Emeric’s party? the voice in my head taunts.

But they aren’t dating anymore. He got his ass dumped.

And I can finally look at her.

“Take it however you want.” He returns his gaze to her. “Just remember who she belongs to.”

“Belonged to, brother. Now she’s mine to take.”

“Boys.” Lucian appears at our side, his greeting dripping with distaste. “I see you’re enjoying yourselves.” His eyes flick to Adrian then me, and when they do, something flashes behind his eyes as he measures my worth.

And I know he sees none.

Adrian’s quick to respond. “Of course, Father.” His voice is devoid of the emotion I roused in him.

Lucian nods, content, before turning his focus to me. “Julian, I hope you’re not bothering your brother. He has important matters to attend to.”

The meaning behind his words is clear: I’m not worth his time.

“Everything’s fine.”

On instinct I glance over at my mother, who’s now laughing at whatever the guest is saying. She looks beautiful. Elegant and carefree despite the bruises she hides beneath her long-sleeve gown and her makeup. Courtesy of our dear father.

“Good. You two should focus on your roles within the family, not on petty squabbles,” he orders harshly.

“Understood,” Adrian replies.

Emotionless.

The perfect son.

“Right,” I say instead.

A wave of anger boils my blood just below the surface. I know better than to provoke Lucian, but that doesn’t mean I have to fake how much I enjoy his company.

Adrian’s next words are barely above a whisper, loud enough for only me to hear. “Remember, Julian. She’s off-limits.”

But they only stoke my determination to prove him wrong.

“Excuse me.” Adrian nods curtly and then walks away, leaving me alone with Lucian.

Lucian turns his nose up and curls his lip in contempt as he looks me up and down. His gaze falls to my knuckles, still red from the punches I threw last night. “What a waste of time,” he mutters. “You should focus on more important things, Julian. Like the family business.”

“What I do in my free time doesn’t affect the family.”

“Everything you do affects the family,” he snaps, causing some of the nearby partygoers to glance our way. “You should be grateful for everything I’ve provided for you. Instead you squander your time in those filthy clubs.”

Filthy clubs? I’m tempted to laugh in his face.

“Filthy” are the brothels he runs.

“Filthy” are the parties he hosts as cheap excuses for business meetings.

The true “filth” exists in what he does to my mother every single day.

My clubs aren’t filthy. He is.

I take a deep breath and look away.

“Enough about that.” He clears his throat, eyes sharp with a sinister intent I know all too well. “There’s something you need to take care of tonight.”

Chills skitter down my spine at his words.

“But before that, have you seen DeMarco?” He gives the room an impatient scan. “He has a room in this goddamn hotel and dares to make a late appearance?”

I press the bridge of my nose with my fingers, already over the conversation. “Can’t say I have.”

“Find him,” Lucian orders. “And make sure you get the job done. You’ll soon know what it is. And remember, you’re a Harrow. It’s time you started acting like one.”

I grit my teeth and nod.

The last thing I want is to follow his order. But my gaze returns to my mother. Her delicate features are in stark contrast to the darkness we’re forced to live in.

She’s my anchor, and I will do whatever it takes to protect her.

Starting with whatever Lucian tells me to do.

“Fine,” I say reluctantly. “I’ll find DeMarco and handle the job.”

“Good.”

As he walks away his presence persists, bearing down on me. He expects me to be a reflection of him, but there is nothing I’d hate more than to become like him. Nothing. I’d take death in a heartbeat before becoming the monster he is.

Sure, I enjoy the perks of being a Harrow, but the price is steep. Too steep.

And once you keep taking, life will soon expect something back.

Dejected, I force myself to get the task done as quickly as possible. Scanning the room, I search for any sign of DeMarco, but I can’t seem to focus. I can’t keep my mind away from Aurelia.

The way she holds herself in the middle of these predators, the way her eyes seem to see right through their masks—it’s admirable.

Intoxicating almost.

I need to keep my head on the task.

The last thing I need is to give Lucian an excuse to go after my mother even more than he already does. He’d love that.

And I would love nothing more than to lose myself in the adrenaline the Den offers. There, the only rules are the rules I make.

There, I’m in control. Here, I’m just another pawn in his twisted game.

But things are different here. My actions don’t only affect me.

For my mother’s sake, I have to do whatever it takes to keep her safe. Even if that means diving headfirst into the darkness that is Lucian’s world.

I weave through the crowd. There’s a tension in the air that seems to grow thicker with each passing second, but I can’t pinpoint the source or the reason.

Feeling eyes on me, I catch sight of a woman with long, slender legs sauntering toward me from across the room.

I’ve seen her somewhere before . . . but where?

Her dress is a burgundy silk, cut low to reveal flawless skin.

And as she nears, I know exactly who she is. She’s part of the job Lucian mentioned.

“Julian Harrow,” she purrs, running a long, perfectly manicured finger down the lapel of my suit. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Victoria.”

“Is it now?”

“Absolutely.” Her black eyes roam the length of me. “I must say . . .” She lingers on the tattoos peeking out from under the open buttons of my shirt. “I’ve heard quite a lot about you.”

“Good things, I hope.”

She leans in closer, her rose perfume burning my nose as I feel her whispered words on my ear. “How about I show you just how good things can be?”

She’s attractive, sure. A pretty face. Any man’s dream. But when everything’s this perfect, it becomes boring. Nightmares have depth to them. Nightmares keep you on your toes—a fire that never stops sizzling.

She’s none of these things. She’s just Lucian’s task.

My gaze drifts past her.

This intense feeling brewing inside of me consumes me whole when I see my brother talking to Aurelia. He steps closer to her, eating up the space between them and setting my teeth on edge.

They clink their champagne flutes together in a toast.

What the fuck?

“Julian?”

I barely register Victoria’s voice.

“Excuse me,” I murmur, not bothering to look at her as I step away.

My focus is solely on Aurelia.

Her green eyes sparkle with a challenge as she looks at Adrian, and I catch the faintest hint of a blush staining her neck. Spreading to her breasts.

I guess it’s time for me to play my part.

Game on, brother.

Aurelia excuses herself, walking out of the ballroom. She turns a corner and disappears into the corridor.

And like her shadow, I quicken my pace to catch up.

The clicking sound of her heels beckons me closer. I could close my eyes and I’d still be able to find her.

There’s nowhere for you to run.

She continues to walk until she abruptly stops, leaning against the wall. Her chest heaves as she takes in deep breaths.

I hesitate for a moment, not sure if I want to interrupt this view in front of me.

She looks just like she did the night she straddled my hips.

But I didn’t keep her from leaving then. I was too immature to know I had to trap my prey before sinking my teeth into it.

But now . . .

All bets are off.

You’re mine now, golden one.