Chapter Eleven: Velvet Promises

The lobby of the Grand Imperial shimmered like a palace of glass and gold. Chandeliers glittered above, their light spilling over marble columns and gilded trim. The hotel cafeteria was no less opulent—crystal vases with fresh orchids on every table, a soft murmur of wealthy patrons in designer clothes, and the faint sound of a string quartet drifting from somewhere nearby.

Ayan stepped in, straightening his jacket, and his eyes swept across the room until they found her.

Saba sat near the window, framed by a view of Vienna’s twinkling streets. She was radiant in a deep crimson dress that dipped low in the front, her neckline sculpted to reveal the rise and fall of her cleavage with every breath. Her hair spilled in glossy waves over her shoulders, and when her eyes lifted to catch his, the corners of her mouth curved into a smile that was equal parts welcome and challenge.

He crossed the floor toward her, every step deliberate. When he reached the table, Saba rose gracefully, and they exchanged a greeting that was sweeter than any words—their hands meeting, their cheeks brushing, a whisper of warmth that lingered.

“You clean up well,” she teased as they sat, her fingers still lightly brushing against his.

“And you…” Ayan let his eyes linger for a beat longer than polite. “You’ve outdone yourself.”

They began with small talk, soft laughter, their hands often finding each other across the table. Waiters moved discreetly around them, serving delicate dishes and fine wine, but Ayan barely tasted anything. His focus was elsewhere—on the neckline of her dress, on the way the soft fabric clung to her curves, on the hypnotic rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

Every time she leaned forward, his eyes dipped. He tried resisting, tried keeping his attention on her words, but his gaze betrayed him. He wanted to touch her there, to taste her, to bury his face in that lush valley and lose himself. The thought alone made heat coil in his gut.

Saba noticed. Of course she did. Her lips curved into a knowing smile, and after a while, she tilted her head, catching his eyes squarely. “Ayan,” she murmured, her voice low enough for only him, “are you staring at my chest instead of listening to me?”

He blinked, caught, but the grin that spread over his face was shameless. “Guilty,” he admitted.

She gave a soft laugh, shaking her head. “Men,” she sighed dramatically, but her eyes sparkled with mischief.

The evening flowed on, dessert arriving—a delicate chocolate confection that neither of them paid much attention to. When Ayan excused himself for the restroom, he carried with him a folded slip of paper. He handed it discreetly to their waiter with a quiet instruction and a conspiratorial smile.

By the time dessert plates were cleared, the waiter returned to Saba with the note. She unfolded it, her brows arching as she read the words written in his neat hand:

Meet me outside.

Her eyes lifted instantly to Ayan, puzzled yet intrigued. He didn’t move, only sipped his wine as if nothing had happened. But the glint in his eyes gave him away.

Saba bit her lower lip, hiding her smile. After a graceful pause, she rose, excusing herself with the pretense of the restroom. She walked out of the cafeteria, her heels clicking softly on the marble, her heart quickening with the thrill of anticipation.

The hotel’s adjoining marketplace was a winding hallway of shaded stalls and boutiques, elegant but hushed. In one dim, secluded corner, a hand caught her wrist. Before she could gasp, she was pulled into the shadows.

Ayan’s body pressed against hers, his arm firm around her waist. His lips found hers in a hungry kiss, raw and consuming, the kind that had no place in polite society. She melted into him, her fingers curling into his jacket, her perfume mixing with the faint scent of wine and night air.

His other hand slid up, cupping her breast through the soft fabric, his thumb brushing over the peak until she gasped against his mouth.

“You feel incredible,” he murmured between kisses, his voice thick with desire. “My beautiful milkmaid…”

Her breath hitched, half a laugh, half a moan. “Milkmaid? Really?” she whispered, but her playful protest was cut short as his lips claimed hers again.

For minutes they remained there, tangled in the shadows, kissing with a fever that defied restraint. His hands roamed her curves, hers clung to him, and the danger of being discovered only fueled the heat.

When at last they broke apart, breathless and flushed, Saba’s eyes blazed with both amusement and hunger. “You’re insatiable,” she whispered.

Ayan grinned wolfishly. “With you? Always.”

Minutes later, they slipped into a waiting cab, sliding into the backseat side by side. The doors shut, and the city blurred past the windows as their hands found each other again, wandering and urgent. By the time they reached his apartment, they were already half-undone—two lovers intoxicated, reckless, and unable to wait for the privacy of four walls.

Tonight, Vienna itself seemed to hold its breath for them.