Chapter Two-Hundred Seventy-Seven: Ivy's Possession

Chapter 277

Ivy’s Possession

Standing with one hand resting on his hip, Fabien tilted his head and observed Lena, whose face flushed red as she nervously pressed her index fingers together. With her Byzantine eyes, she slowly took in every detail of his appearance: his handsome features and smoldering green eyes, his pale, toned chest and torso, his penis fitting snugly in his metallic gold hot pants, down to his impeccably clean, pale feet.

Fabien smirked and chuckled.

Fabien: “I thought this place was for twenty-one and over.”

He stated wryly. Lena gaped owlishly at him.

Lena: “It is?”

Fabien chuckled, the sound vibrating in his chest.

Fabien: “Strictly for the adults, sweetheart.”

He replied, his green eyes glinting with mischief as he watched her. Lena stomped her foot and pouted.

Lena: “I am an adult! I’m eighteen!”

Fabien hung his head and shook it.

Fabien: “Does Jordi know you’re here?”

Lena looked away.

Lena: “I don’t want to talk about Jordi.”

She said tersely with hurt in her tone. Fabien nodded.

He guided her to a private booth, and he signaled a waiter over with a casual wave. When the server arrived, Fabien smiled, his green eyes dancing with amusement.

Fabien: “Two drinks, please.”

He said, turning to Lena.

Fabien: “Give me a negroni, and... what would you like, sweetheart?”

Lena’s heart did flip-flops when Fabien called her “sweetheart.”

Lena: “May I have a unicorn float?”

She asked softly, her voice barely a whisper as she looked up at him through her lashes.

Fabien let out another soft chuckle, leaning back against the plush velvet of the booth.

Server: “Of course.”

He said and abruptly left.

Fabien let out another soft chuckle.

Fabien: “I must say, sweetheart, that’s a very fitting choice for someone who claims to be such a sophisticated adult.”

He teased. Lena huffed and crossed her arms over her chest, her face heating up even further.

Lena: “You’re terrible!”

She pouted, lifting her chin defiantly.

Lena: “And besides, being a sophisticated adult means I can enjoy whatever I want!”

Fabien laughed softly.

Fabien: “I suppose so.”

The server returned a few moments later, placing a glass of dark, sophisticated Negroni in front of Fabien and a tall, vibrantly colorful unicorn float topped with a mountain of whipped cream and sprinkles in front of Lena.

Fabien took a slow, thoughtful sip of his Negroni, savoring the drink’s complex, bitter notes as he watched Lena over the rim of his glass; the usual playful glint danced in his green eyes.

In the background, mellow, sultry saxophone jazz drifted through the air, wrapping around the booth like a warm embrace. Lena remained transfixed, her gaze lingering on Fabien as the music punctuated the heavy silence between them. He sat with a quiet confidence that both intimidated and captivated her, his presence filling the space as effortlessly as the jazz melodies.

As Lena gazed at him, naughty thoughts went through her head. She imagined him yanking her panties off and dragging a feather over her pussy and clit, and doing this until his member settled between her, filling her feminine core. She wanted to gaze into those mesmerizing green eyes as he thrust her. That would make her first time special.

Fabien took another long, slow sip of his Negroni, his gaze never leaving her. He set the glass down with a soft click and leaned forward, a knowing smirk playing on his lips as he noticed the deep crimson still painting Lena’s cheeks.

Fabien: “Something tells me your thoughts aren’t quite as innocent as that unicorn float, sweetheart…”

He murmured, his voice smooth and low. He rested his head on his hand.

Fabien: “What’s on your mind?”

Lena’s breath hitched, and she fiddled with her locket.

Lena: “I-I loved seeing you get tickled!”

She blurted, and her hands flew to her mouth when she realized what she had said.

Fabien’s expression softened from amusement to something more intense. He stared at Lena for a long moment, the teasing glint in his green eyes replaced by a sharper, more focused interest. He slowly set his drink aside, the glass clicking against the table, and leaned closer across the intimate space of the booth.

Fabien: “Is that so?”

He kept his voice low, a playful yet dangerous edge sharpening his tone. He shifted slightly, subtly adjusting his legs under the table as if the mere mention of tickling had struck a nerve.

Lena, spurred by the intensity in his gaze and her own rising daring, didn’t stop to think. She slipped her hand beneath the table, her fingers finding the smooth, pale skin of his arches. Before Fabien could react, she began to tickle him vigorously.

The effect was instantaneous. Fabien’s composure shattered like glass. A sharp, loud bark of laughter escaped him as his body jerked violently in the booth. His green eyes widened, and he desperately tried to pull his feet back, but Lena held on, her own laughter bubbling up as she saw him reduced to a squirming, giggling mess.

Fabien: “HEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEY! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!”

He gasped out, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled hers. The cool, mysterious aura he had cultivated all evening evaporated, replaced by genuine, helpless mirth as he struggled to maintain some semblance of dignity while being mercilessly tickled by Lena.

Fabien: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!!”

Lena shifted her focus from the sensitive arches of Fabien’s feet to his toes, her fingers dancing over them with renewed vigor. As she targeted his toes, Fabien’s reaction intensified; his laughter grew more frantic, and his toes curled and uncurled helplessly under her tickling, his whole body quivering with each new burst of mirth.

Fabien: “LEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHENA! STAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAP!”

He laughed and thrashed around.

Finally, seeing him so thoroughly defeated and gasping for air, Lena relented. She pulled her hands back from under the table, a triumphant grin on her face. Fabien slumped against the booth, his laughter tapering off into heavy, ragged gasps. He stayed there for a long moment, his chest heaving as he tried to regain his composure and settle back down into the plush velvet seat.

Fabien: “You…”

He panted and drew a long breath.

Fabien: “You’re a menace…”

He exhaled a long breath and drained his drink.

He cleared his throat and smirked.

Fabien: “...How would you like it if I did that to you?”

He teased.

Lena’s face, which had only just begun to cool, flared a brilliant crimson once more. She felt the weight of his intense gaze, a heat that seemed to pin her to the velvet seat, yet a spark of her own mischief flickered in her Byzantine eyes. She took a quick, nervous sip of her unicorn float, the sweet cream providing a momentary distraction from the way her heart hammered against her ribs.

Lena: “You wouldn’t dare.”

She countered, her voice a cocktail of fluster and playful defiance as she tilted her chin up.

Lena: “A ‘sophisticated adult’ like you wouldn’t stoop to such childish revenge, would he?”

Fabien snorted.

Fabien: “Is that a challenge?”

He grinned, resting his head on his hand.

Fabien: “I’m used to dishing revenge.”

Lena leaned across the table, her Byzantine eyes sparkling with a new level of daring as she bridged the small distance between them, undeterred by his warning.

Lena: “Then I’m waiting.”

She said, her voice dropping to a playful, challenging whisper that kept the tension taut.

Lena: “I want to see if you’re actually as good at dishing it out as you claim, or if you’re all talk, Fabien.”

Ivy sauntered over to their table, holding a hand horizontally beneath her mouth and laughed.

Ivy: “Well, isn’t this precious? Imagine how much Celeste would enjoy overhearing all of this as a fly on the wall.”

Her smile faded as her tone darkened into a growl.

Ivy: “Mind you, if she were a fly, I’d crush her instantly.”

Lena stared at Ivy in utter shock, thrown off by how quickly her warm, welcoming demeanor had curdled into pure malice.

Fabien: “Oh, it’s the Hallmark Movie Queen. What do you want?”

He gave her the side-eye.

Ivy: “Well, Fabien, I uncovered your ultimate weakness!”

She laughed. Fabien rolled his eyes.

Fabien: “Yeah, you and Ichiro are on a mission to uncover that, and he hasn’t, so what makes you think you will?”

He asked wryly as he lifted his empty glass. Ivy flipped her hair.

Ivy: “Don’t think for one second I didn’t see my father, that geek, or Lena tickle you to tears?”

She shook her forefinger. Fabien scoffed.

Fabien: “Pfft, that makes you and everyone in this club.”

He said dryly.

Ivy: “I do wonder how Celeste will take to this news.”

She gasped, resting her hand on her cheek.

Fabien: “...That I’m ticklish?”

He turned to her and laughed. Fabien threw his hands up.

Fabien: “Ivy, Celeste always tickles my feet. I think she knows by now. What will you tell her next? The sky is blue? But nice try, Miss Detective Hallmark. What mystery of mine will you uncover next?”

He asked wryly, leaning back into his seat.

Fabien: “If you want to start solving mysteries, read mystery novels and not indulge in those crappy Hallmark ‘mystery’ movies of who stole Grandma’s secret donut recipe.”

He chuckled. Ivy bared her teeth and clenched her fists into tight balls.

The server placed a fresh Negroni on the table.

Ivy: “Have a miserable rest of your evening, Mr. Bellegarde! This will be your undoing!”

She rasped.

Fabien: “Here, I will give you a hint: Blair Donati. I think I would break down and cry if he got turned into a monster.”

He replied, sardonic and detached.

Ivy: “Humph! No one gives a FUCK about that whiny nepo baby!”

She flipped her hair and stormed off.

Fabien: “Surprised she figured that out.”

He muttered.

Lena nodded slowly, still reeling from the exchange. She found the sudden, jarring shift in Ivy’s demeanor deeply unsettling; the way the woman could pivot from being jovial and kind to such a display of harsh, genuine malice left Lena feeling cold.

Fabien: “You okay?”

He took another sip of his drink.

Lena: “She was so nice before… She called herself my ‘fairy godmother’ and was kind.”

She embraced herself. Fabien’s expression softened.

Fabien: “Lena, listen to me.”

He shifted in his seat to lock his gaze on her.

Fabien: “When that bitch is ‘nice’ to you, run. She’s up to something because Ivy is never nice. She puts on that saccharine act when she’s using you to further her own agenda.”

He said firmly.

Fabien took another slow, deliberate sip of his Negroni. Suddenly, his expression shifted; his brow furrowed as he winced slightly, the glass trembling in his hand. He blinked rapidly, but the room began to tilt and spin uncontrollably around him.

Fabien: “What the fuck…?”

He murmured, his voice slurring before he collapsed forward, unconscious, onto the table.

Lena froze, the straw of her unicorn float still pressed to her lips. For a heartbeat, she thought it was another one of his teases. But as the seconds ticked by and Fabien remained motionless, his head resting awkwardly beside his spilled drink, a cold knot of dread tightened in her stomach.

Lena: “Fabien?”

She whispered, reaching out with a trembling hand to touch his shoulder. He was dead weight, his rhythmic breathing the only sign he hadn’t simply expired on the spot.

The sultry saxophone jazz that had felt so romantic moments ago now sounded discordant and mocking. Nearby, the low hum of conversation faltered as heads turned. Lena looked around frantically, her Byzantine eyes wide with rising panic.

Lena: “FABIEN! SOMEONE HELP HIM!”

She cried.

Ivy emerged from the shadows. Beside her loomed Min, whose massive presence made the already cramped space feel even smaller. Ivy glanced down at the unconscious Fabien with a cold, calculating look, a slow smirk spreading across her face.

Ivy: “Hoist him up, Min.”

She commanded, her voice cutting through Lena’s panicked cries. Min stepped forward without a word, his large hands easily gripping Fabien’s limp frame. With a grunt of effort, he slung the unconscious man over his shoulder as if he were nothing more than a sack of grain.

Ivy: “Bring him to the mansion. It’s high time I taught Mr. Bellegarde a lesson he won’t soon forget.”

Lena: “NO! LET HIM GO! WHERE ARE YOU TAKING HIM?!”

Lena sobbed desperately as she lunged forward to reach Fabien. Min furrowed his brow, firmly holding her back to block her path.

Min: “I’m truly sorry, Miss…”

Lena: “You claimed to be my fairy godmother!”

Tears streamed down her face as she wept. Ivy chuckled, a cold, dry sound that lacked any warmth. She cast a dismissive glance back at Lena, her eyes glinting with cruel amusement.

Ivy: “Oh, you poor, foolish child.”

She sneered, her voice dripping with condescension.

Ivy: “Fairy tales are for dreamers, Lena. In the real world, ‘godmothers’ don’t grant wishes—they orchestrate reality. And right now, my reality requires Fabien to learn a very painful lesson. Do try to keep up.”

She turned on her heel, signaling Min to move with the unconscious Fabien.

Lena knelt to the floor sobbing, as her mascara streaked her cheeks. What do I do?! She thought. I don’t know who else to call but Jordi, she thought, sobbing.

~

The low, aggressive purr of a Ferrari engine cut through the quiet night air as Jordi’s car swept into the driveway. The sleek car came to a smooth halt. Jordi’s suit jacket was on the passenger’s seat along with his briefcase. He wore a white crisp shirt, a purple tie, black pants, and black zip-up boots.

Celeste was across the street, adjusting her cat mailbox.

Jordi stepped out, his boots clicking against the pavement, holding his suit jacket and briefcase in his hand, but before he could even reach for his keys, the sharp ring of his cellphone pierced the silence. He pulled the device from his pocket, checked the display, and raised an eyebrow when he saw it was coming from a payphone.

Jordi: “Hello?”

He asked, his voice steady despite the late hour. On the other end, choked-back sobs were immediate and unmistakable.

Lena: “J-Jordi? Is that you?”

Jordi’s heart practically ripped from his chest when he heard Lena’s voice, especially her sobbing.

Jordi: “L-Lena! Y-Yes, it’s me!”

Lena sobbed on the other end.

Jordi: “Lena, what’s wrong!?”

He knitted his eyebrows. Celeste stopped fiddling with her mailbox when she heard and saw that Jordi was distressed.

Lena: “I’m at Miss Peahaven…”

Jordi froze as dread filled him.

Lena: “Ivy took Fabien! She drugged him and is taking him to her mansion!”

Celeste’s eyes grew large, and rage filled her.

Celeste: “That BITCH!”

She roared, ran down the street, and lept into the air.

Jordi ran his fingers through his hair.

Jordi: “Lena, stay where you are. I’m coming to get you. Don’t talk to anyone or move.”

He said firmly but gently, then hung up.

Jordi threw his briefcase and jacket onto the passenger seat and climbed into the driver’s seat of his purple Ferrari 328. He turned the key, and the engine roared to life with a fierce, hungry growl. His jaw set in a hard line, he slammed the car into gear and floored the accelerator, the tires shrieking against the asphalt as he gunned it down the road, leaving a trail of burnt rubber behind him.

~

Fabien’s eyelids felt like lead as he struggled to pull them open. His head throbbed with a dull, rhythmic ache, and a metallic taste lingered in the back of his throat. As his vision slowly cleared, the blurred shapes of the room began to solidify into a reality that felt more like a fever dream.

The first thing he noticed was the cold, unyielding pressure against his wrists and ankles. He tried to shift his weight, but his limbs wouldn’t budge. Panic flared in his chest, cutting through the lingering fog of the drug. He looked down to see thick, black leather straps securing him to a robust, intricately carved wooden X-frame. The dark wood, etched with swirling patterns, felt rough against his bare skin. His gold hot pants were removed, leaving his flaccid penis resting against his testicles. He was positioned prominently in the center of a room that felt both opulent and oppressive.

Fabien: “Wh-What… where am I?”

He managed to rasp, his voice sounding foreign to his own ears.

From across the room, the soft clink of ice against glass reached him. He turned his head—the only part of him that felt free—to see Ivy lounging on a moonhole canopy bed. She looked every bit the victor, a martini glass held delicately in one hand as she swirled the clear liquid with a slow, deliberate motion. A knowing, triumphant smile played on her lips as she watched him struggle.

Ivy: “Welcome back to the land of the living, Fabien.”

She said, her voice smooth and dripping with saccharine malice.

Ivy: “I was beginning to wonder if I’d overdone the dosage.”

Beside her, completely ignoring the captive straining against his bonds, was Samson. The cat remained curled up on a velvet cushion, his eyes half-closed as he let out a low, content purr. He seemed utterly unbothered by the scene unfolding in the center of the bedroom.

Ivy rose from her bed and sauntered to Fabien. Her fingertips brushed lightly against his collarbone, the cool touch of her nails trailing slow, deliberate paths across his chest. She traced the contours of his ribs, letting her hands glide down his torso with featherlight pressure that sent a sharp shiver through his frame.

Fabien reflexively pulled back, his abdominal muscles tensing tight against the dark timber of the frame. The contrast of the cool room, her sharp nails, and the lingering sensitivity from earlier made every brush of contact feel amplified.

Ivy’s dark eyes glittered as she watched his breath hitch. She gave a quiet, knowing chuckle, resting her palms against his sides just above his waist, thoroughly enjoying this.

She reached over to a tall porcelain vase beside her canopy bed and pulled out a long, iridescent peacock feather. The deep blues, greens, and shimmering gold of the plume caught the room’s moody teal light, matching her aesthetic with uncanny precision.

She turned the feather slowly between her fingers, waving it in lazy, hypnotic arcs through the air.

Ivy: “Now, what do we have here?”

She murmured, her voice low and laced with velvet amusement. She let the eye of the feather sway, watching the exact moment Fabien’s easygoing expression completely evaporated.

Fabien’s eyes went wide. His entire body went rigid against the dark wood of the X-frame, and he yanked back hard on the leather cuffs around his ankles. The bindings held fast, keeping him completely exposed and helpless.

Fabien: “Ivy, wait—no. Come on, don’t!”

He pleaded, the effortless charm vanishing into sheer panic. He tried curling his toes back defensively, straining every muscle in his calves to twist his feet away, but there was nowhere to go. Ivy offered a wicked, graceful smile.

The soft, bristling edge of the plume made contact, sweeping directly across his cock before trailing lightly along his testicles.

Fabien sucked in a sharp, frantic breath as a shockwave of electric tickles shot up his legs. He let out a loud, breathless gasp that instantly dissolved into helpless laughter.

Fabien: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHOHO STAHAHAHAHAHAP!”

He choked out, tossing his head back as his silver-white hair spilled wildly over his shoulders. His toes curled hard against the air, his entire frame shuddering as he yanked violently against the ankle straps. The leather held firm, leaving his member completely exposed to every twitch of the iridescent feathers.

Fabien: “WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!”

Ivy’s smile widened, her dark eyes gleaming under the moody teal lamps. With measured, deliberate precision, she dragged the broad side of the plume over his balls, then gave the tip of his penis a series of light, fluttering brushes.

Ivy: “Look at you…”

She purred, completely ignoring his desperate squirming as she rotated her wrist to swirl the feather in tight circles right over his cock head.

Fabien: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!! NOHOHOHOHO!!”

He laughed hysterically, his voice echoing off the lacquered walls of the room. He strained his core, pulling frantically against the wrist cuffs, but the X-frame didn’t budge an inch. Tears spilled down his cheeks from the sheer intensity of the tickling, his body twisting in futile attempts to escape the relentless, feathery torment.

Ivy leaned in closer, her wrist moving with fluid, mocking grace as she danced the vibrant tip of the plume back and forth along his cock, which started to erect. A high, breathless howl of laughter tore from his throat, his entire body convulsing against the rigid wooden frame.

Fabien: “AUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHHH!!! NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO!! OHOHOHOHOHOHO FUCK!!”

He tried to sway his hips and jerk away, but the broad eye of the peacock feather found every single spot. The delicate barbs whispered over his nerve endings, delivering a flurry of unrelenting tickles that sent him thrashing against the leather straps. The dark wood of the X-frame creaked softly under the strain of his desperate squirming. She tapped the plume rhythmically across his tip before tracing a feather-light spiral right into it.

Fabien: “OH FUCK! AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!”

He gasped between wild peals of laughter, tears freely running down his flushed cheeks. Every tiny flick of the plume felt amplified tenfold against his member, pushing him straight to the brink of sensory overload.

Ivy merely adjusted her grip on the stem of the feather, deliberately sweeping the soft barbs back and forth across his ballsack.

Fabien: “AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAA!!”

His entire body arched violently against the heavy wooden X-frame. The firm, deliberate sweep was an electrifying wave of tickles coursing straight up his spine. He swayed his hips, trying to close his legs in a fruitless endeavor to block her relentless tickling. Every sharp scritch and flutter over his hard cock pushed him past the edge of sanity, his breathless laughter bouncing wildly off the bedroom walls.

Celeste: “IVY! YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

She bellowed at the top of her lungs. The scream tore through the silence, echoing off the stone walls. Ivy stopped tickling Fabien. He hung his head as the tears dripped down onto the floor near his feet.

Ivy: “Looks like your darling Celeste has arrived.”

She smirked.

With raw, explosive power, she drove her fist into the center of Ivy’s bedroom door. Ivy screamed when she saw her fist go through. The sound of splintering timber was like a gunshot in the still night. The door buckled and smashed open, the frame groaning under the sheer force of her strike as she stormed inside. Celeste was angry as a hornet, and Jordi followed behind her.

Jordi: “YOU!”

He rasped at Ivy, fire in his Byzantine eyes.

Jordi: “You lured MY sister to a club for your sick, fucking schemes!”

He bellowed. Ivy ran to her bed and sobbed.

Celeste easily tore the restraints from Fabien, and the two embraced each other, followed by a deep kiss. Jordi handed him a green silk dressing gown.

Fabien reached out with a still-trembling hand and took the green silk dressing gown from Jordi. He quickly slipped it on, the cool, smooth fabric a much-needed shield against the vulnerability of his exposed state. As he belted the robe tightly around his waist, he took a deep, steadying breath, slowly regaining his usual composure after the humiliating, feathery ordeal.

Fabien: “Thank you… Thank you both.”

Celeste’s eyes remained fixed on Ivy. With a low, predatory growl, she marched across the opulent bedroom toward the moonhole canopy bed where Ivy sat hunched and sobbing. The air in the room seemed to crackle with Celeste’s unchecked fury.

Ivy’s sobs hitching, she looked up with a frantic, desperate gleam in her eyes. Seeking any distraction to halt Celeste’s advance, she reached for the velvet cushion and triumphantly hoisted Samson into the air. The cat, now wearing a fluffy black rabbit hood with long, drooping ears that framed his grumpy face, looked utterly ridiculous.

Ivy: “Wait! Look! I... I have a rabbit!”

She shrieked, her voice high and strained, thrusting the hooded cat toward Celeste.

Celeste skidded to a halt, her breath catching. In her heightened state of rage and the moody, flickering teal light, the sight of the small, white-eared creature with Samson’s glowing eyes and twitching whiskers was a jarring, incomprehensible image. For a terrifying second, she didn’t see her pet; she saw a bizarre, mutant rabbit.

Celeste: “AAAAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

A primal, terrified scream ripped from her throat. She reeled backward, her boots slipping on the polished floor. Her momentum carried her straight into the low decorative railing overlooking the mansion’s entrance. With a cry of surprise, she tumbled over the edge, disappearing into the downstairs foyer with a resounding crash.

“CELESTE!” Jordi and Fabien screamed in unison, their voices echoing through the grand hall as they rushed toward the railing where she had disappeared. Ivy, her face a mask of cold fury, didn’t hesitate. She lunged forward, her hands finding the small of their backs, and with a powerful shove, she sent both men tumbling over the edge after Celeste.

As they plummeted toward the hard marble of the foyer below, Fabien’s instincts took over. He threw his arms out, his green eyes glowing with intense light. A shimmering, translucent green barrier materialized beneath them, catching their fall just inches above the surface. They bounced softly on the emerald energy, humming with power as it held them safe.

The shimmering energy dissipated with a soft hum, leaving them safely on the cold marble floor. Fabien, his green dressing gown fluttering, was the first to scramble up. He rushed over to Celeste, his face etched with worry as he reached out to steady her.

Fabien: “Celeste! Are you all right, mon chaton?!”

He exclaimed, his voice tight with lingering adrenaline. Celeste let out a low, pained groan, her head lolling for a moment before she began to stagger to her feet. She leaned heavily on Fabien as she straightened her back. Aside from the disheveled state of her clothes and the lingering shock of the fall, she felt remarkably intact.

Celeste: “I’m fine, Fab…”

She whispered.

Celeste: “Takes more than that to take me out.”

Jordi strolled over to them.

Jordi: “You two okay?”

Fabien: “I am now that you both got me away from that crazy bitch.”

He huffed.

Ivy stood near the broken railing.

Ivy: “You fools think I am done?! I haven’t introduced something I commissioned to play with you, dingbats!”

She cackled.

Celeste: “What?! You gonna tie us up and make us watch Hallmark movies?!”

She spat. Ivy bared her teeth.

Ivy: “You never had refined tastes in movies, Celeste! NO! This is someone better!”

She screamed and stomped her feet.

Ivy: “GOLDIE GLIDE! TIME TO DANCE WITH THESE FUCKING MORONS!”

The Lamoris landed before Celeste, Jordi, and Fabien.

He was an impossible fusion of high-octane vintage showmanship and fluid, looping anatomy. Where a mortal man might possess shoulders and a neck, Goldie possessed a gleaming, metallic-gold ribbon of a torso that looped back on itself in an effortless arch, catching the fractured light of the mirrored ball overhead. Perched atop that glistening curve were two bulbous, wildly expressive eyes, darting across the trio. Below them, a cavernous, toothy grin stretched wide in a permanent shout of pure rhythm.

Every inch of him had been tailored to stun. His crisp, immaculate white leisure suit was cut sharp at the lapels and generously studded with cascades of rhinestones that sparked under the lights. Beneath the open jacket, a chainmail vest of polished gold scales shimmered like liquid coin against his chest, anchored by a massive medallion that spelled out his creed—DISCO—in chunky, jewel-encrusted lettering. His flared bell-bottom trousers fell in razor-sharp creases over towering, gold-crusted platform boots.

With both index fingers cocked and pointed skyward in a classic two-handed salute, he snapped into a strut that defied gravity, his looping, ribbon-like form coiling and uncoiling in seamless, spring-loaded syncopation. Every pivot sent a shower of reflected light skittering across the walls, every step of his heavy platforms landed squarely on the downbeat.

Ivy leaned her head on her hand as she smirked.

Ivy: “Let’s groove, Goldie.”