Chapter 4 Chapter 4

New York shined  bright and cloudless beneath the morning sun,  a city of businesses and where dreams are made of, pulsing with movement long before the sun reached its peak. On the seventy-second floor of the Damon International Tower, time bent to one man’s rhythm.

Jake Damon stood before his floor to ceiling glass window, coffee in hand, staring at the sky as though it belonged to him,  because, in some ways, it did. The city was his mirror: bright, restless, relentless.

His assistant, Martin, stood a few steps behind, tablet in hand. “You’re due at the United Nations briefing in an hour,” he said. “Then lunch with the President of Helix Dynamics. The Greece retreat begins in three days.”

Jake nodded absently. “The retreat. Right.”

Officially, the annual trip was a business escape,  a gathering of business men, policy leaders, and investors hosted at a private estate off the coast of Greece. Unofficially, it was a power summit disguised as leisure. Deals worth billions were made over glasses of vintage wine and unspoken promises.

Jake didn’t care for the pageantry, but the retreat was useful, and, more importantly, it was neutral ground. The House that hosted it prided itself on discretion, and its enigmatic owner, Madam Seraphine, had a talent for creating worlds where even the most guarded men let their masks slip.

Still, his last visit had ended badly.

He’d withdrawn an investment Seraphine considered vital, a development fund linked to one of her European ventures. She’d taken it as betrayal. Words had been exchanged. Cold ones.

Jake rarely regretted anything, but Seraphine was a connection he couldn’t afford to lose. Not because of pleasure or vanity, but because information flowed through her hands like currency. In her circles, power and connection goes hand in hand.

“Confirm my flight,” he said at last, breaking from his thoughts. “And tell them to keep the itinerary quiet.”

“Understood,” Martin said. “Same security detail?”

Jake gave a short nod. “And Martin…”

“Yes, sir?”

“No  mentions of house of Seraphine.”

That night, after the meetings and noise had faded, Jake returned to his penthouse overlooking Central Park. The view stretched endlessly, the city lights blinking like stars in the sky.

He loosened his tie, poured a measure of whisky, and stared out into the dark. The quiet felt heavy, as it always did. For a man surrounded by everything, silence was still the one thing that made him feel exposed.

He thought briefly of Greece, of marble terraces, sea air, and Seraphine’s poised smile that never reached her eyes. He didn’t trust her, but he respected her game. They have a no-string attached arrangement, where he goes to her and she takes care of his sexual needs and he lavishes her in more money than she could imagine.

A storm was brewing in that part of the world, both in business and politics, and Seraphine’s House was always where storms broke first.

He raised the glass, the city reflected in its amber depths. “Let’s see what you have in stock for me this time, Seraphine.”

Half a world away, on the cliffs above the Aegean, Madam Seraphine paced the length of her office.

The House was alive with preparation, staff polishing floors, chefs arranging menus, gardeners trimming the courtyard roses to perfection.  The Greece retreat is coming up in three days and the power that be in the world would be attending.  And  Jake Damon, when he arrived, nothing could be left to chance.

Her second-in-command, Mireille, entered quietly. “The guest list has been confirmed. Damon’s security team sent their advance notice this morning.”

Seraphine turned sharply. “Good. Has his suite been prepared?”

“Yes, Madam. But if I may… after the last disagreement—”

Seraphine waved a hand. “That’s precisely why we must ensure his stay is flawless. The man may be difficult, but he’s the kind of difficulty that opens doors. We can’t afford another fracture.”

She moved to her desk, her reflection caught in the black marble surface. “Send Lyra to me.”

Mireille hesitated. “Lyra? She’s still in mentorship under Vega.”

“I’m aware,” Seraphine said coolly. “Which is why she’s perfect. Fresh enough to intrigue, disciplined enough to obey.”

Mireille inclined her head and left.

Seraphine stared out the window at the sea, endless, patient. She had built her empire on poise and secrets. Jake Damon was one of the few people who saw through both. Their last quarrel had threatened that fragile balance, and in her world, perception was power.

A peace offering was needed. Not a gift, but a statement.

Lyra would be that statement.

Lyra entered the office minutes later, her silver dress catching the light. She bowed her head slightly, a practiced gesture of respect that still felt strange to her.

“You sent for me, Madam.”

Seraphine regarded her in silence for a moment. “How are your studies progressing?”

“Efficiently,” Lyra said carefully. “Vega says I’m ahead of schedule.”

“Of course you are.” Seraphine’s smile was slight but approving. “Tell me, Lyra, have you ever met a man who could unnerve you?”

Lyra hesitated. “Not yet.”

“You will.” Seraphine moved closer, the scent of jasmine and smoke surrounding her. “Jake Damon is arriving in two days. He’s… complicated. Brilliant, dangerous, and accustomed to control. Your task is simple: make his stay memorable. Observe. Listen. And above all, make him believe the House still deserves his trust.”

Lyra’s pulse quickened, though she kept her expression calm. “Why me?”

“Because he’s met everyone else,” Seraphine replied. “And because you, my dear, still have something he is yet to encounter, Innocence.”

Lyra met her gaze. “And if he doesn’t trust or want  me?”

“Then you will do all it takes to make him want you.”

For a moment, silence stretched between them, the faint sound of the sea below, the soft ticking of the clock.

Then Seraphine turned back to her desk. “Prepare yourself. The House depends on impressions. And remember, Lyra, in this world, appearances is very important.”

Across the Atlantic, Jake stepped onto the private runway, his jet gleaming beneath the dawn. Martin handed him the flight manifest, but Jake barely glanced at it.

“Relax week, right?” his pilot asked with a grin.

“Something like that,” Jake murmured smiling.

The engines roared to life, slicing through the quiet. As the plane lifted into the sky, New York fell away beneath him,  the steel, the noise, the power. Ahead lay the Aegean, a House built on secrecy, and a woman named Seraphine waiting to settle old scores.

Somewhere beyond that horizon, another woman waited,  a woman who no longer answered to Diane, but to a name born from the stars.

Lyra.

And though neither of them knew it yet, their stories were already on a collision course.