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Chapter 1: Isabella
Title: The Duchess' Secret
The moon hung heavy over the city of Lydoria, casting silver shadows across the marble estate of House Verain. Behind velvet-draped windows, the night pulsed with scandal. In the duchess's chambers, silk sheets tangled like a battlefield of passion, and at the center of it all—Mike.
He stood near the fireplace, the glow licking the edges of his bare, muscled torso. His hair was a midnight halo, damp from heat and sweat, lips curled in that lazy smirk that had driven half the capital mad.
Isabella lay on the bed, her body flushed, her limbs trembling, her mind a haze of disbelief. She was a woman of poise, a duchess married to one of the most feared lords in the realm, but tonight—she was just another name in Mike's book of conquests.
"You shouldn't be here," she whispered, though her fingers still traced the sheets where he had kissed her thighs, her breasts, her lips—each touch undoing years of loyalty, of restraint.
"And yet," Mike murmured, stepping closer, voice like velvet wine, "you asked me to stay."
His hand brushed her cheek, and she shivered. She had called him here under the pretense of discussing her son's education. But the moment he walked through the doors of her estate, every lady-in-waiting had whispered his name like a prayer and a curse.
His eyes were molten gold, his scent an intoxicating blend of musk and something darker—almost enchanted. He was handsome in a way that hurt to look at, a creature too perfect for mortal understanding. Even the elder maids had sighed as he passed. Even the guards had faltered.
Their first kiss had been like fire catching dry leaves—quick, wild, inevitable. And when he had laid her down, murmuring praises against her skin, she had surrendered like a conquered kingdom.
Now, she clung to the remnants of her dignity.
"What do you want from me, Mike?" she asked, voice breaking.
"Nothing," he said simply. "That's what makes it worse, doesn't it?"
She flinched.
He kissed her once more—slow, deliberate—then dressed as if he had all the time in the world. With each movement, she felt him slipping away. Not just from her bed, but from the illusion that this meant anything more than what it was: a fleeting fantasy.
"I'll remember you," she said softly.
He looked at her, a strange flicker in his gaze. "They all do."
Then he was gone, disappearing into the shadows like a dream dissolving at dawn.
Outside, the streets of Lydoria were quiet. Mike pulled up his cloak, blending into the darkness. Another name. Another night. Yet something tugged at the edge of his mind—a strange hollowness. He ignored it.
He had many more to conquer. And hearts were such easy things to break.
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