Trapped Between The Duclair Brothers

Hours later, the gentle chime of the seatbelt sign pulled Aria from her thoughts. The jet descended smoothly, barely a tremor as it touched. No loud announcements, no rush of passengers, just quiet efficiency, which was quite bizarre, since she was used to regular airplanes, not that she travelled often either. Aria felt the jet slow beneath her, and before she could fully process it, the engines softened, and the cabin lights brightened.

They had landed.

When the door opened, cool air rushed in. Crisp, sharp, and unfamiliar. The private airstrip was calm and almost eerily quiet, a wide stretch of clean concrete bordered by trimmed grass and sleek security vehicles. No crowd, no noise. Just a simple black SUV waiting nearby, its windows tinted dark.

A man in a tailored suit stepped forward. "Miss Hart," he said politely. "I'm Marcel, I'll be taking you to the estate".

Of course, her mum wasn't there, Aria thought as she rolled her eyes in silence. 

Aria slid into the backseat, the leather soft beneath her fingers, the car gliding forward almost silently. As Paris unfolded outside the window, her breath caught a mixture of wonder and apprehension swelling within her. Old stone buildings rose elegantly on the streets, balconies wrapped in iron railings, cafes just opening with chairs neatly arranged outside. The city's calm, graceful atmosphere stood in stark contrast to her tumultuous emotions, leaving her awed and out of place. Paris appeared self-assured, its beauty unquestioned, while Aria struggled to find her footing in this unfamiliar world.

Nothing like Brooklyn.

Nothing like home.

The SUV slowed as it turned onto a long private driveway. Tall iron gates stood open, gold details catching the light as the car passed through. Beyond them stretched manicured gardens, fountains carved from stone, and a mansion so large that Aria's breath caught before she could stop it.

This wasn't a house.

It was an estate.

The car came to a stop at the foot of wide marble steps. The engine shut off, and for a moment, everything was quiet. Too quiet.

Aria stepped out, pulling her suitcase behind her. The wheels of her suitcase clicked softly against the cobblestone driveway, the sound echoing in the open space. She barely had time to take it all in before a woman in crisp black and white uniform approached her.

"May I take your luggage, miss?" the maid asked with a smile 

Aria tightened her grip.

"I can carry it".

Of course, she wouldn't hand it over, a little rebellious, yes, but she wasn't a spoiled brat.

"It's alright", a calm voice said.

Aria turned.

Cecilia stood at the top of the steps, perfectly composed in a tailored coat, her posture straight, her expression carefully neutral. She looked exactly how Aria remembered: elegant, distant, untouchable.

For a heartbeat, an old memory stung at the back of Aria's mind, her small hand wrapped in Cecilia's, sunlight streaming into their Brooklyn kitchen as Cecilia brushed her hair and murmured a lullaby. That memory felt impossibly far away now, thin and fragile against the cold edge of their reunion. 

"Let her take it, " her mum added gently. "You must be exhausted".

Reluctantly, Aria released the suitcase. The maid wheeled it away with ease, and the moment her hands were empty, Aria felt strangely exposed.

Cecilia descended the steps slowly.

"Welcome to Paris, Aria".

Aria scoffed

"Sure".

The words slipped out before she could stop them.

For a short second, Cecilia paused. Something unreadable crossed her eyes. Guilt, maybe, before her expression smoothed again.

"We'll talk later", she said softly. "For now, you should rest."

No hug

No apology

No explanation

Not like Aria was expecting one anyway, Cecilia turned open the doors, and Aria followed quietly.

Inside, the mansion felt even more overwhelming: polished marble floors, a sweeping staircase, and chandeliers sparkling above her like distant stars. Staff lined the walls in silence; maids, a butler, perhaps a house manager each greeting her politely while their watchful gazes made her feel both fragile and out of place.

Then she felt it.

Eyes on her.

Aria glanced up.

Two boys stood near the staircase.

The older one leaned casually against the railing, dark hair falling into sharp blue eyes, his posture relaxed in a way that felt dangerous. A small silver bar pierced his eyebrow, catching the light just enough to draw attention to his already cutting gaze. One arm was inked from shoulder to wrist, a dark sleeve tattoo that stood out against his perfectly fitted shirt and hinted at things he didn't bother explaining.

He looked over slowly, openly unimpressed. 

Lucien Duclair.

"Well," he said dryly, "you don't look like you belong here".

Aria stiffened.

"And you don't look like someone whose opinion I asked for".

Lucien's lips curled, not amused, not angry, just intrigued.

Before he could reply, Adrien shifted beside him.

He looked like Lucien's mirror image softened by sunlight. The same blue eyes, but warmer, brighter, the kind that actually invited people in. His blonde hair fell loosely over his forehead, slightly tousled, like he never bothered to tame it. 

He was tall too, built just as solid, but where Lucien felt sharp and dangerous, Adrien felt easy, relaxed shoulders, open posture, confidence without the edge.

"Lucien", he murmured, shooting his brother a warning look before turning to Aria with a small, genuine smile, revealing his dimples.

"I'm Adrien", he added. "Welcome".

Aria nodded slightly, unsure of what to make of him.

The warmth in his voice caught her off guard, and she didn't like that it did.

"Ew, Aria thought, annoyed as she pushed the feeling away.

Cecilia cleared her throat, interrupting her train of thought.

"Aria, this is Valentin".

Aria turned to see Valentin Duclair standing a few steps behind Cecilia. Tall, calm, controlled. His presence felt heavy enough.

"We're glad you arrived safely", he said 

"Yeah, right". Lucien scoffed as he walked upstairs to his room.

"Lucien, you will not disrespect your father like that". Cecilia yelled, but he was already gone.

A maid walked up to Aria and gestured towards the staircase,

Cecilia spoke again, easing the tension as Adrein and Valentin left. 

"Your room is ready".

"What's his problem?" Aria said to herself as she rolled her eyes and followed.

She didn't understand why his words stayed longer than they should have.

Paris was beautiful.

The mansion was breathtaking.

But as she climbed the stairs surrounded by strangers who were supposed to be family, one thing became painfully clear,

This place wasn't freedom.

It was a gilded cage.