Page 7 of Bound By Crimson

Chapter Seven

Mr. Thorn

Lyric almost slept through her alarm. She’d barely rested the night before—her mind spinning with the kiss, the black car, the heat of Kai’s hands, the sound of his voice.

By the time she rushed to the Velvet Cauldron, she had no time to stop for coffee. She unlocked the door, flipped the sign, and dropped her bag behind the counter, trying to steady her thoughts.

But it was impossible.

The night felt like a fever dream.

A stranger’s kiss.

A dangerous, magnetic pull that left her trembling long after he was gone.

A low purr of an engine stirred the morning quiet.

Lyric glanced toward the street.

The sleek black car pulled up to the curb—the same one from last night. In the morning light, she could see it was a Bentley. What kind, she had no idea. But one thing she did know—Bentleys weren’t cheap.

The driver stepped out smoothly and walked directly into the shop. He carried a tray with two coffees.

Lyric froze behind the counter .

He stopped a polite distance away, inclining his head slightly—a respectful but assertive gesture.

“Good morning, Miss Dawson,” he said, voice even and professional. “Mr. Thorn thought you might be running late this morning. He asked me to deliver these coffees for you and your employer.”

Lyric blinked. “What? How did he—?”

“Mr. Thorn requests your company for brunch.” The driver gestured toward the waiting car. “Now.”

The door opened behind them. Velora stepped in, removing her sunglasses. She stopped cold at the sight of the Bentley, the coffees, and Lyric’s stunned expression.

“Well,” Velora breathed, a grin spreading across her face. “What is this?”

Lyric shifted, flustered. “I—I don’t know. His driver just showed up and—”

The driver cut in smoothly. “Mr. Thorn is requesting Miss Dawson to attend brunch.”

Velora’s eyes sparkled with excitement. “Go. We’ll catch up later.” Thomas handed Velora the tray of coffees. Velora walked behind the counter and gave Lyric a coffee and gentle shove toward the door. “Don’t keep him waiting.”

Lyric hesitated for only a second, then followed the driver out.

He opened the rear passenger door for her and waited.

She climbed inside.

The scent hit her first. Not the rich leather interior, but the same spiced amber and warm woods that clung to Kai. Masculine. Addictive.

Then he was there. Dark suit. No tie. The morning light revealed more than the shadows had the night before—his sharp jawline, tousled dark hair, and those molten gold eyes that pinned her in place.

She swallowed, heart hammering.

“You’re late,” he said smoothly. Not a reprimand. More like a private joke. “I’m used to people being early for me.”

“I didn’t exactly plan for— ”

“Good.” His mouth curved. “I prefer when you don’t plan. Is the coffee to your liking?”

“Yes, it’s perfect… how did you know?”

Kai just grinned.

The Bentley pulled away from the curb.

Lyric glanced out the window. “Where are we going?”

“Brunch,” he said simply. “I’ve arranged it.”

Of course he had.

---

Kai helped her out of the car, hand firm at her back. Every movement was confident, commanding—but never rough. Just enough to remind her who held control.

The restaurant had a rooftop terrace overlooking the river. Private. Secluded. The kind of place Lyric had only ever seen in magazines.

The table was already set with fresh pastries, fruit, and crystal glasses catching the sunlight.

As they sat, Lyric tried to gather her thoughts.

This version of him—daylight Kai—felt slightly different.

Less dangerous. But not safe.

Still carrying that dark, mischievous edge beneath his polished exterior.

She opened her mouth, unsure where to begin.

He spoke first. “I’ve been in New York the past two months.”

Lyric blinked. “What?”

“You were about to ask where I’d gone. I live and work there. That’s why I vanished after the masquerade.” His gaze softened, just slightly. “You crossed my mind more than I expected. I had to come back.”

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She had a hard time keeping her eyes off his lips.

Kai continued, “I didn’t come back to chase you.” His eyes darkened. “I came back to claim you.”

Her breath caught .

Before she could reply, the waiter appeared. Brunch arrived in swift, silent courses—Kai having pre-ordered everything.

They spoke little about him. When she asked, he deflected smoothly. Not rudely. Just enough to keep the mystery intact.

Instead, he asked about her. Her art. Her dreams. The kinds of questions no one had asked in years.

And he listened—truly listened—as though every word she spoke mattered.

---

When the meal ended, Kai stood and retrieved a black designer bag from the seat beside him. He handed it to her, the tissue paper inside a deep crimson.

“Wear this tonight.”

Lyric opened her mouth, but he cut her off with a look.

“No arguments.”

His tone wasn’t unkind. It was final.

And Lyric couldn’t deny how much his assertiveness turned her on.

He gestured for the driver—still nameless to her—to escort her back to the shop.

---

Back at the Velvet Cauldron, Lyric barely stepped inside before Velora rushed around the counter, eyes wide with excitement.

“Tell me everything. Who is he? Where did he take you? And what’s that?” She pointed to the black bag still in Lyric’s hand.

Lyric set the bag down gently. “It’s…a long story.”

Velora crossed her arms. “I have time.”

Lyric sighed. “I met him at the masquerade ball. He’s the one who sent those roses, remember? But then he disappeared. Until last night. I didn’t know anything about him. I only learned his name last night…Kai. ”

She paused. “But today… the driver called him Mr. Thorn. So, I guess he’s Kai Thorn.”

Velora’s eyebrows shot up. “Let’s look him up.”

Lyric hesitated. “Is that…?”

“Lyric,” Velora said firmly. “You’re too trusting. It’s called being smart.”

They opened the laptop behind the counter. Velora typed swiftly. Kai Thorn—New York . It wasn’t long before they found him.

Kai Thorn – CEO, Thorn Capital. Private Equity. Global Finance. Net worth estimated in the billions.

Page after page of headlines.

Photos of Kai on red carpets. At charity galas. Stepping out of private planes.

Velora whistled low. “Damn, Little Star. You don’t do ordinary, do you?”

Lyric’s stomach tightened.

“What would someone like him want with me?” she murmured.

Velora squeezed her hand. “You’re selling yourself short. He sees what the rest of us already know.”

Lyric glanced at the black bag again. Inside was the dress he expected her to wear tonight. She reached in and pulled out a scarlet lace dress—scandalously sheer in places, designed to make mouths fall open.

Her pulse quickened.

She pressed the lace dress to her chest, unable to tear her eyes away from it.

Whatever this was…

She was already in too deep.