The VIP lounge of Crimson Velvet was enveloped in a heavy silence. Dim lighting filtered through dark velvet curtains, casting a golden glow. This atmosphere, steeped in luxury and secrecy, reflected the world to which everyone who entered belonged.
Ethan sat alone in a spacious, comfortable armchair. A crystal whiskey glass rested on the table before him, the dark amber liquid rippling slightly. As he ran his fingers along the rim, his mind remained calm, yet the weight of the upcoming meeting lingered in the air.
This was Ethan's playground—a stage where power, desires, and shadowy deals intertwined. Tonight, another game was about to begin. He slowly opened the thick, leather-bound catalog on the table. His fingers traced the edges of the pages, his eyes scanning the photographs like a predator. Each page showcased women not just for their physical beauty but as images, as brands. Though it resembled a modeling agency, a far different truth lay beneath the surface.
As he flipped through the catalog, memories surfaced. Most of these women had reached their current status under his guidance. They had been shaped and turned into "figures" in his world. He thought of Aurin—once among these pages, now a completed masterpiece, having found her place and become one of the most valuable pawns in Ethan’s game.
As he turned another page, heavy footsteps echoed outside the door. Ethan continued skimming the pages, already knowing who had arrived. Then, a deep, authoritative voice crossed the threshold. When the door opened, dim light spilled into the corridor, and in walked a man exuding power and wealth.
Old Barker.
One of the city's most established businessmen, Barker stood at the doorway with his thick, graying hair and a presence that defied time. Ethan studied him with an assessing gaze. At fifty-six, Barker still carried the authority and refinement that years had bestowed upon him. His broad shoulders were accentuated by the dark, tailored suit he wore, and his sharp eyes gleamed like those of a predator who had just spotted his prey.
As Barker stepped inside, Ethan finally lifted his head and met his gaze. Without a word, he acknowledged him and gestured toward the whiskey bottle on the table—an unspoken but clear invitation. Barker smirked slightly, taking slow, deliberate steps forward before settling into the chair across from Ethan.
"Ethan," Barker said, his voice deep and unwavering. "As always, in your element and prepared."
Ethan offered a faint smile, though unlike Barker’s, his lacked warmth. "Being prepared always guarantees victory," he replied, lifting the whiskey bottle and pouring the dark liquid into his glass. He repeated the motion for Barker before setting the glasses down.
Barker picked up his glass, feeling the cold surface against his fingers, and shot a brief glance at Ethan. "We have business tonight," he said, staring at the amber liquid. "But first, let’s celebrate. After all, agreements made among friends have a different taste."
Ethan raised his glass. "Then let’s celebrate," he said, tapping his glass against Barker’s. The soft clink of crystal broke the silence.
Barker took a deep sip, never breaking eye contact with Ethan. The younger man drank more deliberately, savoring the whiskey’s heat. Their conversation had only just begun, but for both men, the night’s course was already clear.
Barker took a sip, then turned his gaze to the catalog. He leaned in, running his fingertips over the leather-bound cover before slowly opening it. As his eyes wandered across the pages, a smirk of amusement played on his lips. He studied each model carefully—each one meticulously chosen, refined, and nearly perfected.
"Ethan, I've always admired you," he said, nodding slightly. "You craft beauty like an art form. But what I’m really curious about is… how do you choose them?"
Ethan swirled the whiskey in his glass, watching the liquid ripple against the crystal. Barker’s question might have sounded like a casual compliment, but Ethan understood its deeper meaning. Barker knew these women were not just beautiful; they were the result of a carefully curated process.
"The selection process relies on many factors," Ethan replied calmly. "Beauty is only the first step. But for a model to truly gain value, being beautiful is not enough. She has to be an icon. A brand. She must be able to carry her own weight, to master the right expression, to know how to move in the right places."
Barker tilted his head slightly, smiling in approval. "So, you don’t just see them as merchandise. You’re actually reshaping them."
Ethan gave a faint smile. "Exactly. If you don’t train them, they’re just passing faces. But if you teach them how to become symbols, that’s when they find their real worth."
Barker nodded, his eyes still fixed on the catalog. As he flipped through the pages, he lingered on a few models, scanning them with the keen eyes of a predator analyzing its prey.
"This girl… What’s her name?" he asked, pointing to a particular spot in the catalog. "There’s something about her stance. Innocent, yet wild. She has a dangerous allure."
Ethan placed his glass down, studying the model Barker had singled out. He nodded slightly before responding. "Her name is Lysandra. She’s still very new, but she shows promise. She has a natural charm, though she still needs shaping. The potential is there."
Barker examined the photograph more closely. "You say she’s untrained… But with the right guidance, she could play a big game."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "Barker, for men like you, I only offer finished pieces. But for some… special arrangements can be made. Of course, for the right price."
Barker chuckled softly, lifting his glass for another sip. "You always get straight to the point. And I like that. Wasting time in business is the greatest luxury of all."
Ethan smiled subtly. This was the kind of conversation he was accustomed to. Men like Barker only dealt with those who could articulate exactly what they wanted. And Ethan knew precisely how to deliver.
"And what about Aurin?" Barker asked, finally looking up from the catalog. "Is it her time now?"
Ethan locked eyes with Barker, his expression unreadable. He slowly placed his glass down on the table and leaned back in his chair.
"The payment has been made, Barker. Aurin is yours now."
Barker gave a slow nod, his eyes gleaming with the satisfaction of a hunter who had just claimed his prize. He tapped the table lightly before exhaling deeply and leaning back.
"Then let’s see her."
The heavy silence in the VIP room of Crimson Velvet was broken by the slow creak of the door opening. As Aurin stepped inside, the dim glow of the lights highlighted her elegance and flawless silhouette. Ethan, sipping his whiskey, turned his gaze toward her, while Barker acknowledged her arrival with a slight nod of approval.
Aurin knew why she was here. Every movement she made was controlled, deliberate, and enticing. Her long, cream-colored dress hugged her figure perfectly, the fabric rippling slightly with each step, complementing her delicate yet commanding presence. Her cascading red hair shimmered with a coppery glow under the light. She was a masterpiece—one that Ethan had sculpted over the years to perfection. And now, she was prepared for Barker.
Barker leaned forward slightly in his seat, his eyes scanning the woman before him with meticulous intent—like a collector admiring a piece of art, patient but filled with the insatiable hunger of possession. He observed Aurin in silence, noting the way she stood, how the dress clung to her body, the faint curve of her lips, and the effortless confidence in her poised shoulders.
Aurin did not meet Barker’s gaze directly. Instead, she tilted her head slightly and cast a brief glance at Ethan. Without breaking eye contact, Ethan gave her the subtlest nod of approval. That was the moment Aurin fully embraced the role she was meant to play.
She moved forward, her walk as confident as that of a model on a runway—yet this was no performance. This was submission. When she reached Barker, she placed her purse on the table before Ethan in a graceful motion. The soft click of the metal clasp echoed through the room, making the silence even more pronounced. Then, without hesitation, she settled onto Barker’s lap.
This was more than just physical contact. It was a symbol of surrender. A confirmation that Aurin now belonged to Barker. As she adjusted herself against him, she finally lifted her gaze, locking eyes with him for the first time. Her deep, knowing stare held an undeniable intensity, and slowly, she parted her lips in a seductive, practiced smile.
Barker’s lips curved into a satisfied grin. He placed a hand on Aurin’s waist, his thumb pressing lightly against the fabric as he traced its texture. "Ethan," he murmured, his voice deep and pleased. "I’ve always admired your choices. But Aurin… she is a masterpiece."
Ethan listened to Barker’s words, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Art, if not refined properly, is easily lost, Barker," he said, his voice calm yet compelling. "My work is to shape the finest and give it value."
Barker nodded, his hand still resting on Aurin’s waist. "And you have more than succeeded." He studied her again, the way a collector examines the perfection of a prized piece before claiming it fully.
Aurin was ready for those eyes. Now, it was time for the final step. She lifted her head slightly, closing the small space between them. Her breath was warm against Barker’s skin, a deliberate, tantalizing caress of air. Then, without hesitation, she pressed her lips to his.
Barker welcomed the kiss, savoring the moment. He felt Aurin’s submission, experienced the carefully crafted perfection that Ethan had molded over time. This was the final seal of the deal. Aurin now belonged to Barker.
Barker pulled back slightly from the kiss, but his gaze never left Aurin’s face. As his hand traced her waist, his eyes darkened with a deeper sense of possession. This was not merely physical contact—it was a moment of ownership. He wanted to feel that she belonged to him, to study her like a collector admiring a prized acquisition, absorbing every detail of what he had obtained.
Aurin remained motionless, just as she had been trained. Her breathing was steady, her face betraying no discomfort. She was crafted in Ethan’s hands. Submission was not just an expectation—it had become her identity. There was no defiance, no hesitation within her. She knew she belonged to Barker now, and she did not question it.
Barker continued to observe her, his fingers gliding from her shoulder down her arm before he let out a low chuckle. "Ethan," he said, still studying Aurin intently, "you always recognize true worth. I may have paid you, but let’s be honest—this isn’t just a transaction. It’s like acquiring a piece of art."
Ethan lifted his glass, taking a slow sip of his whiskey. Barker’s words didn’t surprise him. He had always seen his acquisitions as more than mere purchases—a conquest, a prize to display and enjoy. Aurin was no longer just a woman; she was an asset, a figure to be possessed.
"Art," Ethan said, placing his glass back on the table, "is not just defined by the beholder. It’s about presentation. That’s why Aurin is here. She’s yours now, and how you choose to showcase her is up to you."
Barker nodded, considering Ethan’s words. He reached out, tilting Aurin’s chin up, his thumb grazing her cheek. Aurin closed her eyes and accepted the touch. She had been taught not to resist, to embrace the role, to surrender completely.
Barker exhaled in satisfaction. "It’s time to take her," he said, turning back to Ethan. "I have no doubt we’ll do more business together."
Ethan gave a slight, knowing smile. "Barker, my doors are always open to the right offer."
Barker chuckled, shaking his head slightly. "One thing I’ve learned—you never underestimate a man like you." Then, he turned back to Aurin. "Come now, my dear Aurin. You’re with me now. Let’s go."
Aurin cast Ethan a brief glance—not a farewell, just an acknowledgment. She was following the rules of the game, moving from one stage to the next, as she had been shaped to do.
Barker’s hand pressed firmly against her waist, guiding her forward. With effortless grace, Aurin rose to her feet, the fabric of her dress cascading over her legs, her delicate movements deepening Barker’s fascination.
As the door opened, Barker and Aurin stepped out together.
Ethan watched them leave, raising his glass once more. His face remained impassive, devoid of emotion. Another night. Another deal.
But this was only the beginning.
In Ethan’s world, everything was calculated. This deal with Barker was merely the first move in a much larger game.
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