Chapter One: The Queen of the Night
The party pulsed with energy—bodies swaying in time to the smooth, hypnotic beats of the music. Rich young men and women, intoxicated by the rhythm and the alcohol, abandoned their worries, lost in a world of excess. Their laughter and shouts filled the air, a constant buzz that was as intoxicating as the alcohol flowing through their veins. The dim lights flashed, casting long shadows across the club, adding to the sense of mystery that hung in the air.
But for Soraya, it was just another night—another show she had to watch, another set of bodies she had to ignore. She leaned back against the velvet-covered wall, the weight of her power evident in every inch of her posture. Her gaze, sharp and unblinking, moved over the crowd like a predator stalking its prey.
From the haze of smoke surrounding her, her eyes picked out the familiar faces: rich men and women who thought they could escape their reality by losing themselves in the chaos of the night. She didn't judge them—they were nothing more than pawns in her world. Soraya had no need for friends. No need for company. She ruled the night with a single, icy gaze.
Her cigarette burned slowly between her fingers, the smoke curling up into the air, swirling in front of her face like a veil of mystery. She took another drag, savoring the burn. Her eyes flicked briefly to the entrance, expecting to see the usual group of business tycoons and rich young generations, when a shift in the atmosphere caught her attention.
A young man stumbled through the door, his disheveled look instantly catching her eye. He was out of place—too casual for the polished crowd surrounding him, yet his presence seemed to have an odd magnetism. His dark, tousled hair fell carelessly over his forehead, and he wore a loose, oversized hoodie that hung off his frame like he didn't care about the rules of the game.
As he made his way into the club, a subtle smirk tugged at the corners of Soraya's lips. He looked like trouble.
He wasn't the first to stumble into her world uninvited. Most men did. But something about him intrigued her. The way his eyes darted around the room, scanning the chaos with both amusement and confusion. He didn't belong here, yet there was something in the way he carried himself that made it impossible to ignore him.
Her gaze followed him, a predatory glint in her eyes, as he made his way toward the bar. He had no idea who she was. Most men didn't. They looked at her with curiosity, unaware of the power she commanded in every corner of this world. Soraya wasn't just a woman in a room full of men—she was the woman they whispered about. The one who ran things without saying a word.
But this one—Jace—was different. He wasn't staring at her, like most men would, but she could feel his presence, the pull of his energy even from across the room. He was watching them all, but his eyes... they weren't afraid. There was no awe in his gaze, no hesitation. There was only the faintest flicker of amusement, as if he knew he didn't belong but wasn't bothered by it.
Soraya exhaled slowly, the smoke from her cigarette swirling in the air. She had to admit, his nonchalance was... interesting.
It was then that their eyes met, a brief, fleeting connection. For a second, Soraya's world seemed to shift. His gaze didn't flinch. Instead, he smiled—playful, cocky, as though he knew exactly what he was doing. The audacity.
A flicker of something burned deep in her chest, and Soraya stood straighter, her heartbeat steady but her pulse quickening ever so slightly. No one challenged her. No one.
Except him.
She watched him approach the bar, his carefree swagger disrupting the usual flow of the night. She couldn't take her eyes off him. There was something about him—something that made her want to break the unspoken rule of control, just to see what would happen.
Jace caught her gaze again, this time holding it for a beat longer. His smirk widened.
"Nice night for a drink," he said, his voice smooth and casual, like they had known each other for years.
Soraya didn't respond immediately. Instead, she took another long drag from her cigarette, her eyes never leaving his. A small part of her wondered if he even knew who she was.
The club was filled with people, but in that moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room.
"You're out of place," Soraya finally said, her voice low, commanding.
Jace's eyes sparkled with mischief. "Maybe," he replied, leaning in slightly as if daring her to challenge him. "But then again, I like to think that's what makes it fun."