Adrian leans in close, his voice low as he cuts through my focus. “This noise is getting to be too much. Let’s move to another booth.”
I don’t immediately answer. I’ve lost track of what he said because my eyes are still on her. She’s still holding on to the phone, pretending to be lost in it, but I can see the slight twitch in her fingers, the way her body stays rigid. She’s pretending, and I can see it, even from here.
I’m not done watching her.
We get up to move, but my gaze doesn’t leave her for a second. We slip into a quieter booth, the noise of the club still pressing in from behind us. But it’s as if the chaos around us doesn’t exist. I’m hyperaware of her, even though she’s far across the room. The slight tilt of her head, the way she adjusts in her seat. Every small detail calls me back to her, even though she’s trying so hard to ignore the attention she’s drawing.
A few moments later, she suddenly rises to her feet with a beautiful grace. My gaze tracks down her figure as she walks to the bar, her hips swaying with a confident rhythm that’s impossible to ignore. I can’t help myself. My cock hardens in my pants and a vision of her bent over the bar torments me.
There’s no denying it—she’s beautiful. But it’s not just her appearance. It’s the way she carries herself, like she’s trying toblend in but doesn’t quite fit. There’s something about her that makes me want to peel back the layers, see what’s underneath that carefully constructed facade. I don’t know why I’m so captivated by her, but I can’t look away.
She reaches the bar, and a young man approaches. He’s too eager, too loud, clearly tipsy, and his confidence is spilling over the edges of what’s acceptable. He’s moving toward her with a grin that’s way too wide, his hands already outstretched like he’s entitled to touch her. The way he’s looking at her—like she’s just another conquest—it makes my jaw tighten.
I watch as she tenses, her body language shifting from relaxed to rigid in an instant. She doesn’t want this. I can see it in the way she tries to smile, a forced politeness that doesn’t reach her eyes, her hand awkwardly pushing him away. She’s trying to escape him without making a scene.
It stirs something in me. Something irrational. A desire to step in, to stop this before it goes any further. I could do it easily. A simple word, a gesture, and this man would be gone, dragged away without a second thought. My men are always close, always watching, ready to act on my command. But I don’t move. I wait. I observe.
As if my gaze has an invisible pull, she looks up again, her gaze finding me in the new booth. This time, she doesn’t even spare me more than a split second. The insolent boy whispers something to her, taking her attention away from me.
Fuck. I can have him killed just for that alone.
He attempts to touch her again, and she slides him a look that has a low growl falling out of my lips. I have never wanted a woman with such unbridled passion in my life. The boy raises his arms in surrender and disappears, leaving her alone.
But instead of looking back at me, she heads towards the exit and disappears, out of my line of vision and probably out of my life forever. I grip the arm of my chair, forcing myself to stay in my seat and not chase mindlessly after her. She’s just another fleeting distraction in a night that’s already filled with too many thoughts, too many responsibilities.
But even as I tell myself this, the image of her stays with me. It lingers, clinging to the edges of my mind like smoke, impossible to shake off. The curve of her lips as she sipped her drink, the way her eyes darted around the room, that moment of hesitation when she caught my gaze. It sticks with me, running in loops, playing like a broken record in my thoughts.
I try to dismiss it. Tell myself it’s nothing. Just a woman, just a moment, an attraction that doesn’t mean anything. I’ve seen women like her before—beautiful, young, and out of place. Nothing about her should stand out. And yet… something about the way she carried herself, the way she looked at me—it unsettles me more than it should.
A misstep. A distraction. That’s all it is.
But deep in the pit of my stomach, there’s a gnawing feeling I can’t ignore. I know it won’t be the last time I see her. It can’t be.
And that thought—that knowledge—sticks with me as the night wears on. As soon as the clock strikes midnight, Adrian is back, his gunpowder-gray eyes dark with hate.
“Alexei Dmitri,” he growls. “We got him. He’s been caught. He’s sitting in one of our safe houses, awaiting interrogation.”
My body tenses, a rush of cold clarity sweeping through me. My pulse quickens, my mind snapping back into focus. Thisis what I’ve been waiting for, the closure I need. It’s time to deal with the problem—no more distractions.
“Good.” I knock back the rest of my drink, savoring the heat in my throat. “I want to speak to him myself. No one gets in the way.”
Adrian’s eyes lighten like they usually do at the thought of violence. “You’ll let me have a go, won’t you? I’ve been waiting for this moment for weeks.”
I rise to my feet and turn to my guards, who suddenly melt out of the darkness and appear in front of me.
“Keep an eye on Maria,” I bark. “Make sure she gets home safe.”
“Yes, Boss.”
As I march out of the club with my men, I think about my twenty-four-year-old daughter and pain in my neck. She’s here tonight, even though I’ve warned her severely to stay away. She thought she could sneak in and avoid me, but nothing goes unnoticed by me in my own club.
It seems Maria loves to do the opposite of what I tell her to. My parents used to be strict. I dared not disobey them or I’d face grievous consequences, but Maria is my weakness, my sunshine. She’s made me proud in so many ways; so if that means looking away whenever I see her at the club, I will. Every man in that club knows she’s my daughter, and they’ll give their life for hers in a heartbeat.
She’s safe, I’m sure, so I take my mind off her and refocus on the task for tonight.
Chapter Three - Zoe
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, my lipstick half done, my hand hovering unsteadily as I try to finish it. My heart is hammering harder than it should, my breath a little too shallow. I press the lipstick to my lips, the bold red line drawing a stark contrast against my freckled skin, but it feels more like a mask than anything else.
