The Velvet Room Conspiracy: Chapter Five
The Price of Knowing
Charlie
I’m already regretting following Wesley through this door as he pulls a blindfold from his pocket, holding it out toward me. "Trust me," he says, his tone calm but insistent.
I shake my head, taking a step back. "No. I don’t even know you."
His gaze doesn’t waver, and the blindfold stays held out, steady and unrelenting. "That’s true," he says, his voice soft but firm. I swallow hard, knowing he’s right. There’s no way out, and we both know it. The realization chills me, but I nod, allowing him to slip the fabric over my eyes.
Wesley guides me forward, his arm looped through mine. The blindfold amplifies every sound—the muted click of doors, the hum of an elevator, and the faint echo of our footsteps. It’s like being led through a maze, each turn leaving me more disoriented. My muscles tense as anticipation and fear clash within me. What’s next? Where is he taking me? The unknown gnaws at me, and I can sense that Wesley’s aware of it too.
Wesley leads me into the first elevator, his grip on my arm steady as the doors close behind us. The soft hum surrounds me, the upward motion sharpens my awareness of the blindfold’s suffocating darkness and the confined space. When the elevator halts, the doors open with a quiet chime.
"Just a little farther," Wesley says, his tone calm yet unsettling. We step briefly into a hallway before he guides me into a second elevator. The descending twists my stomach, deepening the disorientation as my sense of direction dissolves completely.
When the elevator doors open again, my footsteps echo as we traverse a labyrinth of twists and turns, punctuated by the soft whoosh of doors. The air grows cooler, the atmosphere heavier, as if we’re moving into the heart of something forbidden. Wesley’s confidence remains unshaken, while my unease sharpens with every step. But stopping isn’t an option—not when the answers about Bianca might be close.
When Wesley finally unties the blindfold, the fabric slipping away, I blink against the soft glow of light. My eyes adjust slowly to the opulent suite before me. Sleek leather furniture gleams under the soft lighting, paired with polished wood that looks untouched. The luxury feels stifling, a silent proclamation of power. A huge abstract painting is on the wall; its colors are beautiful but also intense and overwhelming.
Wesley strides to the bar and pours two glasses of whiskey. He holds one out to me, and I take it without drinking. My fingers tighten around the glass, unsure if this is a test or a distraction.
“You’re nervous. Relax. I don’t bite hard,” he says.
The word digs under my skin. He says it like a command, as if my tension is something he can order away with a sick joke.
“I’m fine,” I reply, though my voice betrays me.
“Are you?” His gaze flickers to mine, daring me to lie again.
I exhale, my frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why am I here?”
“You came willingly,” he says, as if that excuses everything.
“That’s not what I meant.” My tone sharpens. “What do you want?”
His gaze hardens, locking onto mine. “Take off your clothes, Charlotte.”
The words hit like a slap. My stomach knots, heat rushes to my face before I stammer, “Excuse me?”
“You heard me.”
“I’m not a stripper,” I snap, the words flying out before I can stop them.
“Obviously not. Do you think I’d waste my time if you were?”
His arrogance twists something inside me, anger and confusion mixes into something sharp and volatile. “Wait, I have some questions for you.”
He steps closer, the space between us shrinking. “You have to pay a price for answers. They don’t come for free. So, what are you willing to do for them?”
His words are both a warning and a challenge. I should leave, but I don’t. My feet feel rooted to the ground, and his gaze pins me in place.
Bianca’s voice whispers in my mind. How far would you go to uncover the truth? I thought I knew, but now I’m not so sure. If I push too far, will Wesley bury the truth about Bianca, or will I lose myself trying to find it?
“I’ll do anything,” I say, the words soft but steady. “Anything for those answers.”
Wesley doesn't respond. His expression doesn’t shift, but his eyes darken. He watches me like he is weighing something, deciding.
“Anything?” he asks quietly.
“Yes.” The word is final. It carries everything I cannot say aloud.
“Then get on your knees.”
I draw in a shaky breath, my eyes dropping to his hand. The silver ring with its moon crest glistens under the light. He rules everything here. Power flows through him, and everyone else falls in line. If I want answers, I have to prove I will pay the price, even if it means bowing to him. Slowly, I lower myself to my knees. The cool floor presses against my skin as my hands rest at my sides. My breath catches, but I tilt my head up, refusing to look away. His hand drifts, brushing my cheek. His thumb lingers under my eye, the silver ring cold against my skin. The touch sends a faint shiver through me, leaving heat in its wake.
Without warning, his grip shifts. His hand slides to my arm as he pulls me up off the ground, leaving me standing closer to him than before. My breath catches as his fingers linger on my arm, his touch warm and steady.
His eyes flick over my face as though searching for something. Then his lips meet mine.
The kiss starts soft, his mouth coaxing and sure against mine, and before I can think to stop, I am leaning into him. His hand slides to the back of my neck, his fingers weaving through my hair. The soft pull sends a ripple of heat through me, making my breath hitch.
My pulse races as his other hand moves to my waist, pulling me closer until I am pressed against him. His lips deepen the kiss, each movement sending sparks through my skin. My thoughts falter, replaced by the warmth spreading through my chest. For a moment, I forget everything, Bianca, the questions, the answers. It's only him. His kiss. The way he leaves me breathless.
But then I pull back, gasping for air. “Stop. This isn’t why I came.”
Wesley doesn’t let me go far. His fingers graze my arm, pulling me back with an irresistible touch.
“You came here for answers,” he says, his voice low and smooth. “And I am giving them to you, Charlotte. But the cost will be more than you bargained for.”
For now, he thinks I’m his pawn. But I can’t forget the truth—this game has only one winner, and I can’t afford to lose.
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