In the glittering underworld of elite society, Celeste Moreau is a woman with secrets stitched into every seam of her designer gowns. By day, she's the poised heiress to a crumbling empire. By night, she's tangled in a dangerous game of power, seduction, and survival.
When she crosses paths with Damien Voss, a ruthless billionaire with a reputation for collecting broken things, Celeste becomes his newest obsession. Damien offers her salvation—but at a price. His world is velvet-lined and gilded in gold, but beneath the luxury lies control, manipulation, and a hunger that borders on madness.
As Celeste is drawn deeper into Damien's orbit, she must confront the ghosts of her past and the chains of her own making. But the closer she gets to unraveling his secrets, the more she realizes: the most dangerous cage is the one you choose to stay in.
Chapter One: Smoke and Silk
Celeste Moreau didn't believe in fate. She believed in control of her image, her empire, her emotions. But tonight, something felt off. The air was too still. The city was too quiet, and her reflection in the penthouse mirror looked like someone waiting to be undone.
She adjusted the diamond clasp on her black velvet choker, the one she wore only when she needed armor. Her dress was midnight blue, slit high enough to whisper scandal, low enough to promise restraint. Her heels clicked like gunfire against the marble floor as she descended to the waiting car.
The gala was for charity, but everyone knew it was a battlefield. Billionaires, politicians, and predators in tailored suits. Celeste had mastered the art of smiling without warmth, of laughing without joy. She was untouchable. Until tonight.
He was there.
Damien Voss.
Leaning against the bar like he owned gravity. His suit was charcoal, his shirt unbuttoned just enough to suggest he didn't care about rules. His eyes—gray, unreadable—found hers the moment she entered. And held.
She didn't look away.
He didn't smile.
The room seemed to tilt.
Celeste moved through the crowd like smoke, graceful and elusive. She accepted compliments, offered practiced nods, but her mind was elsewhere. On him. On the way, his gaze felt like pressure. Like possession.
When she reached the bar, he was still watching.
"You're late," he said, voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous.
"I wasn't aware I was expected," she replied.
"You were."
She hated how calm he made her feel. And how quickly that calm turned to heat.
"You're Damien Voss," she said, as if naming him gave her power.
"And you're Celeste Moreau," he replied. "But I don't think that's who you really are."
She stiffened. "You don't know me."
"I know what people hide when they think no one's looking."
He leaned in, close enough for her to smell the smoke and spice of his cologne. "And I know you're tired of pretending."
She should have walked away.
Instead, she whispered, "What do you want?"
His smile was slow. Dangerous. "Everything you're afraid to give."
And just like that, the game began.