With a languid stretch, you rise from the rumpled bedsheets and make your way downstairs. The angels are nowhere to be found, and neither Charlie nor Vaggie grace the common room. Only Husk remains, bottle in hand and ears perked with interest as you approach. "Husk," you murmur, watching a faint blush dust his feline features. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" you ask, tilting your head inquisitively. "And where, pray tell, have the others wandered off to?"

Husk shrugged. "Angel had to book it back to Porn Studios - his boss Valentino was callin' for him."

You let out a soft sigh, the sound carried on a wisp of vanilla-scented breath. "Got it... guess I'll be heading to the studio then." With a casual flick of your wrist, you down the remaining contents of the glass, the fiery liquid leaving a warm trail down your throat.

Setting the empty glass aside, you turn towards the door, fully intent on making your exit in nothing more than your gossamer nightwear. But just as your fingers graze the doorknob, a shimmering veil of magic envelops you. The air crackles with arcane energy, and in the blink of an eye, your ensemble transforms. Gone are the delicate silks and lace; in their place, a tailored blazer hugs your curves, crisp trousers neatly pressed, and a pair of gleaming stilettos clicking against the hardwood floor as you shift your weight.

Husk's eyes go wide, his feline gaze drinking in the sight of you - all polished elegance and effortless confidence. A faint blush dusts his cheeks as he watches, utterly captivated by the subtle shift in your demeanor. He thinks to himself, 'What a woman...'

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As you approach the towering V-Tower, the sight of the scantily-clad women streaming out of the building sends a shiver down your spine. Steeling your nerves, you step through the ornate double doors and make your way to the reception desk.

"Hey there, pretty lady. If you're not here for Valentino's shows or Velvet's performances, beat it," the woman behind the counter hisses, her tone dripping with disdain.

You meet her gaze steadily, your eyes suddenly glowing with a radiant golden light. The woman's bravado instantly crumbles, and she shrinks back, stammering an apology. "Oh, u-uhh, my apologies, ma'am."

Without a word, you offer her a polite smile and continue on, the click of your high heels echoing through the lavish lobby. The air is thick with the scent of perfume and the distant thrum of music, a palpable undercurrent of decadence and vice permeating every corner of the building.

You step inside, and the atmosphere hits you like a wave—an assault of neon lights, pulsating beats, and the heavy perfume of indulgence. Valentino's grand marquee glows overhead, casting shadows that dance wildly across the crowded hall, alive with decadent chaos. As you push through, layers of scent unravel: heady colognes, lingering smoke, and the earthy musk of packed bodies. But then, beneath it all, you catch a trace—faint but unmistakable. Angel's scent. It's like a silk ribbon winding through the din, drawing you deeper, grounding you in the haze of it all. You pause, taking it in. This place is strange, darkly alive, but you can't help the chill that runs down your spine.

Angel notices you in the crowd and gasps, nearly dropping the drink in his hand. "Y/N, what are you doing here?" he practically shrieks, hastily tugging his silk robe tighter around himself, though it does little to cover his disheveled look. His wide eyes flick nervously to the side, as if someone might swoop in any second.

You raise an eyebrow, giving him a slow, almost amused smile. "What else, little one? I'm here to bring you back home." Your tone is calm, but there's an edge that makes it clear you're not leaving without him.

He shifts from foot to foot, casting a nervous glance over his shoulder before he looks back at you. "Look, Y/N, I got... commitments." His voice is softer now, reluctant, and his usual bravado fades in your presence. But you can see the relief in his eyes, the way he almost sags with it.

"Commitments? Sure," you reply, stepping closer, voice warm but unyielding. "Let's go, Angel. You don't need any of this." You gesture around, and he hesitates only a moment before he lets out a sigh, taking your hand, grateful and maybe—just a little bit—at peace.

 A tall figure looms behind you, shadow spilling over as a rich, intoxicating scent fills the air—a fragrance heavy with dark allure and something dangerously addictive. You barely have to turn to recognize him, his aura unmistakable. Smooth as silk and twice as dark, he leans close, a slow smirk playing at his lips.

"Well, well... senorita, it's you," he purrs, voice as velvety as his touch is light, trailing dangerously close to your shoulder. His eyes, smoldering and unblinking, rake over you with a confidence that suggests he's used to having people melt under that gaze.

You meet his stare, unimpressed and steady, holding your ground against his intoxicating energy.

"Valentino," you say slowly, letting the name roll off your tongue as if tasting the very essence of danger that surrounds him. Angel blinks at you, his surprise palpable, his eyes widening.

"You know my boss, Y/N? How?" he stammers, his voice tinged with disbelief. The atmosphere crackles between you, thick with tension and unspoken histories. You can see the gears turning in his mind, trying to piece together how you, someone so unexpected, could possibly have ties to someone as formidable as Valentino.

With a sly smile, you lean slightly closer, allowing the moment to linger. "Let's just say I've had a few... interesting encounters," you reply, your tone playful yet enigmatic, enjoying the way the air feels charged with intrigue.

Valentino chuckles darkly, a sly grin creeping across his face as he trails a finger along your chin, his touch lingering just long enough to send a shiver down your spine. "So, we have a little history, do we?" he teases, tilting his head as he studies your expression, the smoke curling around you like a sinister fog.

"You blew me off nearly the second day you met me. Why was that?" His voice drips with playful curiosity, each word a challenge wrapped in flirtation.

Before you can respond, Angel steps in, grabbing your shoulder with a protective grip, a mix of frustration and concern etched on his face. "Hey, don't touch her, okay? She's not used to your... ways," he snaps, his tone defensive, as if trying to shield you from the darker side of Valentino's charm.

Valentino merely raises an eyebrow, amused, the tension in the air thickening as he looks between you and Angel, clearly relishing the power dynamic. "Oh, come now, Angel. A little touch never hurt anyone," he quips, his voice smooth as silk, yet laced with an underlying threat.

You let out a light laugh, brushing off Angel's protective instincts with a teasing smile. "I'm fine, dear," you say, giving him a reassuring pat on the arm before turning your full attention to Valentino.

"I'm here to talk to you about cutting Angel's schedule back a bit," you continue, your tone firm yet friendly. "He needs more time with us—time to breathe and enjoy life, rather than being buried in work all the time."

Valentino leans back slightly, his expression shifting to one of mild intrigue as he regards you. "Is that so?" he replies, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "And why should I consider that? Angel's work keeps things... interesting around here."

You meet his gaze with determination, unflinching under the weight of his scrutiny. "Because even the most dedicated of workers need a break, Val. It's good for the soul, and trust me, he's worth it."

Angel watches the exchange with a mixture of admiration and caution, his fingers still twitching at your shoulder, ready to jump in if things take a turn. But for now, the tension hangs in the air, ripe with potential and possibility.

Valentino smirks, his fingers brushing gently against your nose, a sly glint in his eye. "You are a sweetling, aren't you, pretty one?" he teases, leaning back with an air of relaxed confidence.

"Well, I might just consider it," he continues, his tone playful yet laden with an underlying seriousness. "If you ever think about working for me instead, just know that your beauty would be quite the asset in my world."

You raise an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips. "Is that so? Flattery will get you everywhere, Valentino, but I'm not sure I'm cut out for your line of work."

Angel tenses slightly, sensing the shift in tone. "Hey, don't even think about it," he interjects, pulling you a little closer as if to shield you from Valentino's allure. "Y/N has enough on their plate without diving into whatever chaos you've got brewing."

Valentino chuckles, clearly enjoying the banter. "Oh, come now, Angel. Can't a demon appreciate a lovely view? I'm merely extending an invitation." His eyes glimmer with mischief, making it clear he's not just talking about a job.

You hold Valentino's gaze, your heart racing at the flattery but also aware of the danger lurking in his words. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll stick with my current endeavors—at least for now."

With a teasing smile, you add, "Besides, I have to keep an eye on my favorite little demon. Can't let him get lost in your wild world."

Angel relaxes a little at your words, a faint smile creeping onto his lips as he leans into you. Valentino watches the interaction with a mix of amusement and intrigue, clearly entertained by your dynamic.

"I see," Valentino says with a sly grin, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly. "Oh well, if you want me to dazzle you, you know where to find me." He slides a sleek business card across the table, showcasing his number and a tempting portrait of himself.

You take the card, a playful smile dancing on your lips as you tuck it into your pocket, feeling the weight of the offer lingering between you. "Thanks for the invitation," you say, giving him a teasing look before turning your attention back to Angel.

With a firm grip, you grasp Angel's hand and tug him toward the exit, eager to escape the intoxicating atmosphere of Valentino's lair. "Come on, let's get you home," you say softly, glancing back at Valentino over your shoulder. He winks at you, the devil-may-care attitude never leaving his expression.

As you pull Angel out of the studio and into the night, the sounds of the chaotic club scene fade behind you. You can still feel the pulse of the music, the scent of danger lingering in the air, but for now, it's just you and him, away from the temptations of the underworld.

"What was that all about?" Angel asks, concern flickering in his eyes as you step into the cool night air.

"Just a little business chat," you reply, keeping your tone light. "Nothing to worry about. Besides, I'd rather be here with you."

His shoulders relax slightly, and you can see a mix of relief and affection in his gaze. "Thanks for looking out for me, Y/N," he says, squeezing your hand gently.

You smile back at him, feeling a warmth spread through you. "Always, little one. Now, let's get you back where you belong." As you walk together under the dim streetlights, the world feels a little brighter, and for now, you're both just happy to be in each other's company.

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Once back at the hotel, you head straight to the bar, your feet instinctively leading you toward Husk. You find him polishing a glass behind the counter, the dim light catching the glint of his feline eyes. "Did you get Valentino to cut back on Angel's schedule or what?" you ask, leaning against the bar, a playful smirk on your lips.

Husk pauses, raising an eyebrow as he pours you a drink. "You actually managed to get that smooth-talking bastard to listen?" He chuckles, the sound low and rumbling like distant thunder. "Color me impressed."

You take the glass from him, the cool surface a contrast to the warmth in your hand. "Yeah, well, that moth is sure charming," you sigh, rolling your eyes. "But I didn't like the way he was looking at Angel. It felt... possessive."

Husk leans back against the bar, crossing his arms. "Valentino has a reputation for being a real piece of work. But you know Angel can handle himself." His tone is laced with a mix of concern and camaraderie, as if he's trying to reassure you while acknowledging the truth.

"Maybe," you reply, taking a sip of your drink. "But I'd rather he didn't have to. He deserves to have some space, to breathe a little." You gaze into the glass, reflecting on how much Angel means to you.

Husk nods, understanding. "Yeah, I get that. He's not just another pretty face to throw into the spotlight. He's got feelings, y'know? And he needs someone looking out for him, especially in a place like this."

You glance up at Husk, appreciating his insight. "Exactly. That's why I wanted to make sure he gets some time away from all the madness. I don't want him caught up in all that drama."

Husk raises his glass in a mock toast. "To keeping Angel safe, then. And to you for trying to play the protector. Just be careful, alright? This place can swallow you whole if you're not watching your back."

You clink your glass against his and take another sip, feeling the warmth of the alcohol spread through you. "I will, Husk. I promise." The bar hums with life around you, and for a moment, the chaos of the outside world feels far away.