Until I breathe | 18+

Seven- Hate Crossed Paths

Lily

Is it a mistake?

Everyone who loves me, will say yes- the worst, disastrous and deadliest of them all.

But I don't think so. There is nothing like a mistake. There is always a consequence to an action, and a reaction to a decision. And I've made my share.

I sit confidently, in my black bustier, a high waisted skirt, that pairs well with thigh high stockings, a blazer and a six inch Yves Saint Laurent Stilettos.

The bartender presents me with the Apple Martini I've ordered. I take a sip, waiting for him. I feel confident and appropriate for the setting with my brown hair perfectly blow outs in soft curls and smokey eye makeup, giving me the more mysterious and alluring appearance.

It feels so unexplainably good and confident when you know you are looking beautiful.

And it feels even more good when you enter your enemy's territory, solo and uninvited.

I'm not scared, not at all. Why would I be scared? ... when I've nothing to lose and a point to prove. I love when people underestimate me, and then again underestimate me.

And I love surprising them like this - unstoppable, unbreakable, unafraid.

I sit poised in the opulent bar, surrounded by luxury and refinement. The sleek, polished interior exudes sophistication. Rich mahogany panels lining the walls with Crystal chandeliers casting a warm, golden glow along with Plush velvet sofas and chairs in deep, jewel-toned hues and a gleaming black marble bar, adorned with a delicate silver trim.

The air is thick with the scent of fine cigars and premium liquor. Soft jazz floats through the room, performed live by a talented trio in the corner.Patrons are impeccably dressed, their designer attire and precision-cut jewels reflecting their elite status. Conversations are hushed, with occasional laughter and clinking glasses.

I sip my drink, surveying the room, with caution and confidence. A high-stakes poker game unfolds in the private room. A billionaire entrepreneur chats with a stunning supermodel. A group of influential politicians laugh and shake hands

"Quite rarefied, but we have better elite bars than Caffareli's", That's my first thought about the place. We've never seen a life beyond the Vitalus. This is the first time I've been to the different side of Valdoria, a side which is almost similar to us but completely different.

I've never seen him before. All I'm told is he is a blue eyed devil whose reputation precedes him -ruthless, cunning and always gets what he wants. I'll just know by his presence that it's him. I sense his arrival before I see him.

I take another sip, noticing the change in the atmosphere, at his entry. He walks in with two of his men on his sides, and suddenly the whole dynamics of attention shifts to him and his presence. Ayren Caffareli.

And the first thing I notice is his eyes....blue eyes, vibrant like delphinium flowers and deep like an ocean. He exudes an aura of unapologetic power, his commanding stride devouring the distance. Every step broadcasts his dominance, his broad shoulders squared, his chiseled jaw set. His piercing blue eyes scan the room, as I lower my gaze, avoiding to capture his attention.

Tall, imposing, and illegally handsome, Ayren perfectly embodies the essence of the Caffareli legacy. His crisp white shirt showcasing his golden skin, as if he has just stepped off the yacht in the French Riviera.