FIVE HUNGERS OF MARGRET

Venice, Italy – Afternoon

The phone call came in just before she woke fully. "Margret," her father's voice, clipped and commanding, filtered through her phone speaker. "The Lust and Legacy exhibition is vital. You must be there in person. It's not just an art event, it's politics. Business," he said.

Margret Devereaux stood in her Adriatic penthouse, a glass of Campari glowing red in her hand. "So we're bribing the old money with dead paintings now?"

"We're reminding them the Devereaux name is still sacred," he replied. "Make a good impression."

"I always do," she scoffed, bringing the drink to her lips.

When the call ended, she exhaled slowly and sharply, turning to Katie, her assistant and part-time miracle worker, who was already pacing with a tablet, making some schedules.

"I've arranged the car, your itinerary, the donation receipts," Katie said, brisk and bright. "The dress you wanted?"

"The bright red one." Margret grinned. "God, yes. It should be illegal, just perfect."

---

Hours Later, at the Grand Palazzo, Venice

It was the opening night of Lust and Legacy private auction, which pulsed with heat and whispers. Velvet chairs, aged scotch, and collectors who smelled like wealth and secrets. Margaret entered as the bidding started on a stolen 17th-century French panel. Some deep, white, crimson red art collections of 26 exhibits, stolen art recovered from Europe's darkest corners, all eye-catching to the guests present.

She didn't enter.

She arrived walking gracefully.Her red satin dress hugged her curves like a scandal had been made. A high slit threatened revelation showing her white fair skin. Her bare back gleamed under chandeliers. She wore no necklace. No need to, everything soothed in perfect to her looks.

Margaret looked like the artifact they wanted most.

Katie stayed behind, with a soft formal suiting attire whispering notes into her ear, and who the necessary guests are, but Margaret had already gone, still in an unfazed manner, representing the Devereux Holdings. Of course, every other Corporation was present, making their bids.

The hall kept busy, with a lot of Art collectors piercing glances and taking art pieces of each collection they like. Suddenly, a change in the air, suddenly thick. A familiar static. An ache born of memory and heat found its way into the room.

Then she saw him.

Seth Roman.

The room turned on its axis as if some kind of daredevil had stepped in. He was dressed in black, hair ink-dark, jawline cruel. Eyes like obsidian, reflective, quite unreadable. The air felt tight with him around. Everyone felt it. He moved with the sin of a known god who didn't need to introduce himself. People parted when he walked. People whispered.

The Director of Avenir Corporation, somewhat too powerful to ignore, too dangerous to trust. And too late to forget and every eyes stared some more . Seth Roman was not someone anyone could mess with.

Margret turned before he could recognize her.she definitely didnt want running into him

Too late, think he already caught a glimpse of her before she moved away in that red dress.

-

Gallery Corridor

She moved slowly into the hallway, she was not expecting anyone to follow through,especially not wanting to meet the Almighty Seth. Her heels struck like war as she walked. She fished for her clutch and suddenly slammed right into him. Those Chest...

Seth Roman

His familiar scent filled her nose. His fingers steadied around her waist, lingering on them too long. making her pull away a bit.

"Still walking into people like you own the air?" he murmured as he held her arms closely.

Her breath caught. Her spine stiffened. Slowly, she looked up without saying any words.she kept her composure, in a fierce looking way. She didnt need to but her pulse betrayed her.He hadn't touched her closely like that in two years, nor had they crossed paths this way.

Seth Roman, the man who could objectively plant a hunger and leave it to rot, or bloom.

"Still painting with the bones of other men's sins?" he spoke again Looking directly into her eyes.

She said slowly. "Are you breaking into exhibits or pretending you belong?"

His smile curved like a blade. "I always belong. Especially where I'm not wanted, not for you though." He stepped closer. She didn't move But her heart rhythm betrayed her.

"You shouldn't be here," she said turning her face away

"I'm never where I should be," he replied, voice velvet and steel. "But I am exactly where you want me."

The air felt tigher around them. The kind of sudden tension that demanded something.

Slowly they began to walk into the hallways and into other rooms disclosed with art collections.

"You chose her," Seth spoke, nodding to a broken marble Aphrodite sculpture in the hallway he traced with his fingers. "Missing arms. No face. That's not restoration. That's desire."

"I wanted her true." Margret replied

He nodded. "Then maybe you do remember what truth tastes like."

She fought the memory of his words on her throat, his breath in her hair, his mouth doing the thing they know how to do best on her neck, and his dire hands on her waist, more ruin with his silence than his touch.

"Are you here for the exhibit or a sabotage?" she asked not wanting any more of the damn memories

"You tell me." he tilted his head like a predator humored by his prey.

"Don't play games with me, Seth."

"Oh, but we play so well, Margret." His eyes burned in hers. "You like games. Especially the ones I make you lose."

"You lost me." Her jaw tightened. "That was a mistake."

A pause stirred, and his eyes darkened, not with something worse with anger, rather deep intent.

"I didn't lose you," he whispered. "I just stopped chasing."

Her breath hitched. God knows he knew how to disarm her in three words and with his gaze.

She stepped back. Needing space from him, but suddenly bumped into the edge of a table draped in crimson velvet. He followed, shooting his hands out not really to help but to corner her right there and then, a cornered goddess in crimson and pride.

"I should have you removed," she threatened, her voice low and brittle.

"Do it," he smiled soft and lethally as if to actually feel threatened. "Then come find me."

She hated that part of her always yearning for him. her inside shook at his words. Seth wasn't just any man, he was a hunger.

And now she was starving yet