⚠️ Explicit Content Warning

This chapter contains graphic sexual content, explicit language, and adult themes. Strictly recommended for mature readers 21+. Reader discretion is advised.

LUCIEN

"Ahh-ughhrrr," I can clearly hear her frustration. The way she was fighting for dominance.

She wasn't getting the pleasure in it. I can see it on her face.

God. I had never let any of my escorts ride me. I have never done a one-night stand in my life. I know with the background I come from, it could backfire anytime. It would become controversial. I have never done it before getting them to sign the NDA. I have never done it without precaution. And yet here I am, listening to this stranger’s sinfully dangerous, sensual moans.

It's melting in my ear like honey and so fucking addictive.

Fuck.

I have never thought of having this before. But right now it's hell. Heaven and everything. All at the same time. Her riding me is fucking surreal. I have never seen a woman this beautiful.

All the escorts I hire are always behind my money, reputation, and fame. Though in the end, I ruined them well and good. They behave like insects, irritatingly and annoyingly trying to grab my attention.

But with this woman, I can see the challenging spirit, her fight for dominance. Even though her body reacted like heaven under mine, I could hear it in her melodic voice. But she was fighting so hard to get her own pleasure on her own terms. Needless to say, it's the truest anyone had ever been with me.

Though, she, naked, on me, looking like a fuckingly amazing sex goddess—it would be a shame to hide it under me. But I have to give her what she needs. I fucking need to.

I tugged hard on her left nipple with one hand while the other gripped her hip. In a heartbeat, I flipped her onto her back. Before she could even gasp, I pinned her wrists above her head. Her body arched as she gasped in realisation.

Fondling, teasing, and tugging on her nipples, I said, "Ask for it. Say it."

She bucked her head to look into my eyes and I smirked, "You’re not going to get it without any work, babe. Say it."

I pulled out of her and ground, slowly and teasingly, against her entrance.

She let out a throaty, aggressive groan, cursing me, "Fuck you, Assho---"

I thrust back in, deliberately slow. Painful for me, sure—my balls were screaming. But I wasn’t giving her what she wanted until she said it.

I was watching her annoyed face. So I picked up my pace a little just to fuck with her. And when the lines of frustration slowly eased and the pleasure took its place, I slowed it down. It was painful. But I know it'll be worth it.

This time she rattled to free her hands and I know there’s a hundred percent chance she might strangle me to death or scratch my face until blood oozed out, and I couldn't afford any of it.

So I tightened my grip and said, "Say you want it. Or this time I'll pull out and walk out of this door."

"I can't do this now." She bit back.

"Oh I can and I will, Babe. Watch me."

"Fuck. You. Y-yes." She almost whimpered the last word in aggression.

A savage grin curled my lips as I demanded, "Yes what?"

"Yes, I want it, asshole." She spat back.

"Want what? Make it clear. Don't make me guess. Just for your information, I am awful at it."

"Make it rough. Motherfucker." She hissed, baring her teeth.

"At your service, Ma'am." I picked up my pace. This time I was rougher, wilder. The satisfaction and pleasure across her face was totally worth it.

Her nails dug into my arms, leaving angry red trails. Her breath came in ragged gasps against my neck. I could smell the sweat, the rawness, the pure lust.

Her heat clamped around me, greedy and perfect. Sweat slicked our bodies as I drove into her, watching her breasts bounce, the flush rising on her chest like a victory I’d fucking earned.

Half an hour ago...

The private lounge stank of overpriced whiskey and fear.

I could taste the panic in the room — subtle, sharp, like blood in expensive whiskey.

The private lounge at the top of the Midnight Lounge wasn’t just for drinking. It was for warning. For showing men what happened when they underestimated me.

The lights were dim, but not enough to hide fear. My inner circle sat tense in leather chairs, clutching reports, avoiding my eyes. They're sat like schoolboys caught cheating—sweating behind silk ties and shiny cufflinks, pretending they hadn’t watched three hundred million dollars disappear in under thirty-six hours.

A digital screen blinked behind them, numbers still plummeting.

I stood at the center of the storm, calm as a loaded gun.

“Moretti Group shares dropped nine percent in thirty-six hours,” I said coldly, running a finger along the rim of my glass. “We just lost three hundred million in valuation.”

No one breathed.

I rose slowly from my seat.

“That’s more than a dip,” I continued as I swirl my scotch. “That’s sabotage.”

One of them — Marcus, a finance advisor I’d overpaid for years — tried to speak. “Lucien, the market's reacting to the leaked acquisition plans. It’s not necessarily—”

I cut him off with a look.

“You think I care what the market’s reacting to?”

Silence.

I walked over to the window, overlooking the Manhattan skyline. My reflection stared back — polished, cold, controlled.

“I had a deal on the table for a military-grade AI firm in Germany,” I said. “We were forty-eight hours from sealing it. Now their board pulled out, citing ‘instability within Moretti Group.’”

I turned back to them.

“My empire doesn't leak,” I said quietly. “My enemies don’t eat unless I allow it. So if there’s instability, it’s sitting in this room.”

Marcus opened his mouth again. Stupid.

“Lucien, let it go—these things happen in business. A few million lost—”

I didn’t let him finish.

I was across the room in two strides and grabbed him by the collar, slamming him into the edge of the glass table. Paperwork flew. His breath left his body in a gasp.

“I don’t lose,” I growled, my voice low and lethal. “I don’t get played.” I leaned in closer, nose inches from his. “I am the f**king game.”

He coughed, gasping.

Then I let go.

He slumped back, coughing, avoiding my eyes like the coward he was. I adjusted my sleeves with surgical precision, then poured myself another drink — not because I needed it, but because it reminded them who was in control.

I took a slow sip.

“Find out who leaked the files. I don’t care if it’s someone on this floor or across the globe. I want a name. I want evidence. I want their blood. Understood?”

The room answered in silence.

As it should.

Ten minutes later, I walked out of the suite and into the hallway, fury still crawling under my skin.

My tie hung loose, my knuckles raw and split from the wall I’d just punched. Pain didn’t matter. Control did.

I braced my hands on my thighs, breathing hard—until I heard it.

Click. Click. Click.

Heels. Deliberate. Bold.

I looked up.

And saw her.

The world narrowed.

Black leather jacket clinging to a sharp frame as her second skin. Cap dangling from two fingers. Boots that clicked like punctuation. Dark inky hair. Unreadable eyes.

She didn’t slow.

Didn’t smile.

She walked toward me like the hallway belonged to her.

I straightened and took out the packet of my cigarette from my coat pocket, I was watching her closely while placing the cigarette in between my lips.

My first instinct was to ask who she was. My second was to kiss her.

Albeit I did neither.

As I reach for the lighter in my pocket. She stopped inches from me. Eyes locked on mine. And without asking, reached for the cigarette pack in my hand.

I let her.

She pulled one out, placed it between her lips then put the pack back in my pocket, and waited.

I raised the lighter. Flame flickered. Her features danced in its glow. She didn't bother to dip her head a little to light hers, instead reached for her jeans pocket and took out her own lighter. And something about told me that she intentionally didn't want to drop her head even just a bit infront of me.

Which undoubtedly bruised my ego just a little bit but I am not the type of person who shows his inner things so casually and as I was watching her she didn't seemed that type of, too.

I took a sharp drag and then saw her taking some steps back as she leans against the wall across me. Though the foreign thought of trapping her close to me bugging in my mind violently. I didn't tried to entertain it.

I laughed internally knowing that she won't be able to afford it even if she spends her whole life for it.

“That doesn’t suit you,” I murmured.

She took a slow drag. Let the smoke curl out like she owned the air between us.

“I don’t care,” she said, crushing the cigarette beneath her heel halfway through. And I felt something else also got crushed along, I couldn't name.

I raised an eyebrow. “That pack cost me two hundred dollars.”

She shrugged. “You look like you can afford to waste things.”

That got my attention.

Most women tried to impress me. Touch me. Worship me.

But her?

She wasn’t seducing me. She was challenging me.

“You’ve got attitude,” I said.

She tilted her head, eyes flashing. “And you’ve got an overfed ego.”

I laughed once. A short, sharp sound. “Must be exhausting being worshipped all the time.”

“You have no idea.”

She circled me slightly, then came to a stop.

And dropped the line that nearly unhinged me.

“Do you want a one-night stand?”

I froze.

She didn’t only ask it like an offer. She delivered it like a dare.

I took a step closer, towering over her now. “My ego’s not that fragile, sweetheart. But just so we’re clear—”

She waited, eyes locked on mine.

“I pay my escorts,” I said, voice low. “Not the other way around.”

Her smirk was venomous. “What price do you think I’d pay for you?”

Getting women isn't a hard thing for me. I am well aware with the fact that the slightest tug at the corner of my lips in their direction had them drop their panties for me. I raised an eyebrow. My eyes stern as I said, “I don’t do male escort gigs.”

She leaned in, lips nearly brushing my jaw.

“Everyone has a first time,” she whispered. “I don’t mind being yours.”

My pulse slammed against my throat.

She wasn't trying to get into my bed.

She was trying to get under my skin.

And succeeding.

I tried to laugh it off. “You think I’m that easy?”

“No,” she said, dragging her fingers down my chest, slow and taunting. “I think you’re that desperate to prove I’m not in your head.”

That’s when I snapped.

I grabbed her waist and slammed her against the wall.

Her laugh was breathless. Mocking.

My mouth crashed against hers. Her hands tangled in my shirt, tearing it open. My lips left bruises down her throat.

She bit back moans, like she wanted me to work for it.

And I did.

God, I did.

The Suite.

We never made it fully through the doorway.

Clothes hit the ground in seconds. Her nails scored my back. I buried myself in her like I could drown the fire she lit inside me.

Her breathy curses in my ear felt like gasoline.

Her body? Destruction.

I didn’t ask her name.

I didn’t want to know.

Because knowing would make her real.

And real meant dangerous.

Hours Later.

I woke to the scent of her perfume — but the bed was empty. I touched the other side of bed to feel her but it was cold and empty. The air was cold. Her warmth gone. Her shadow vanished.

I sat up slowly, heartbeat heavy. My blazer caught my eye — hanging differently.Something was off.

I stood. Checked the inner pocket. My purse was there but some of the money was gone.

And with it, everything. A slow smile spread across my face. Not because I was amused.

But because I knew what this meant.

The girl with the leather jacket and no name had just robbed me.

Played me.

Marked me.

And for the first time in a long, long time…

…I wanted to see her again.

Not to punish her.

But to finish what we started.

To be continued…

LUCIEN

I stirred in sleep — rare for me. It's not easy for me to sleep. I've insomnia and a habit of late night working since I was fifteen. Above all of these the thing which is odd than all is I slept after an one night stand. Which is clearly not my thing.

The suite was drenched in half-light. Golden dawn bleeding through heavy curtains, cutting across the silk sheets.

My hand moved automatically, searching for warmth beside me. It was an unconscious movment.

Empty.

My eyes snapped open.

I sat up at once, breathing tight, scanning the bed. Cold. Undisturbed.

I grabbed my phone. "F*ck. Seven?!!" I cursed.

The room was quiet, but not empty of her.

Her scent still hung in the air. Floral. Dangerous. Like her.

I ran a hand through my hair, pushing it back roughly, cursing under my breath. I don't freaking stay after I finish I just left. No string attached. That's the rule I've been following since I was a teen.

But the fact that I not only stayed but slept also last night is not a good thing. And also not to forget I was left this time which is not the right thing. I left my one night standees not the other way around.

I got up, dressing quickly. My wallet was in the pocket of my trousers. I checked.

Cash was gone.

"Of f*cking course." I laughed.

A smirk tugged at my lips despite the rage simmering in my chest.

“Well played, bold of her.” I muttered into the silence.

I should have been furious.

Instead, I was wired. Awake. Burning.

She hadn’t just taken my money.

She’d taken control.

I walked into the bathroom. Turned the cold tap to its limit and stepped under the water.

It crashed against me, freezing, punishing.

Didn’t matter.

I wanted to scrub her touch off me. The way she had grabbed me. Kissed me like she was claiming territory. Like I was hers.

No one did that to me.

No one dared.

I closed my eyes.

But I still saw her.

The mocking tilt of her mouth. Those sharp, storm-gray eyes. I let the water run until I couldn’t feel my skin. After all the things that happened something inside me is craving for her scent, her feeling. That mixed scent of lavender, peaches and danger is crawling under my skin, assaulting all the last night memories in my head. A part of-though the tiniest one- me want to revive that scent near me again. And she didn't forget any of her things- I don't know why I was urging to search for her things, any thing- hoping she might forget to take along with her. But doesn't matter how hard I could scan the rooms, she didn't left anything except the memories of her. She took every thing. Which is oddly frustrating.

When I stepped out, I was shivering — and angrier than before.

Later.

My penthouse was too clean. Too quiet.

I caught my own reflection in the bathroom mirror.

Towel slung around the hip. Hair damp. Jaw tight. Eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep.

For a second, I imagined her behind me — smirking, daring me to admit how thoroughly she’d gotten under my skin.

I slammed my fist onto the counter hard enough to make the marble rattle.

Fu*k. "No. Snap out of it. You bastard. She's just another girl. Not the first and definitely not the last on the earth."

My phone buzzed.

“S-sir,” my assistant’s voice crackled, nervous. “Your meeting is scheduled for 10 a.m.”

“I’ll be there,” I said, voice flat. No greeting. No warmth. No mercy.

I ended the call.

The Moretti estate was immaculate. Warm lights. Marble floors polished to a mirror finish.

I barely registered the croissants, the espresso, the perfect plating.

I sat at the breakfast table, motionless.

My mother, Camilla, hovered. Ever the hostess.

“Lucien, love, eat something,” she urged softly. “I had the chef prepare everything your favorite today.”

I didn’t respond. I just picked at the plate with my fork. A sleek car pulled into the driveway. Seconds later the door slammed open. A tall, and leaner than me punk walked in with is signature cocky grin.

Adrian Shaw.

Always loud. Always too casual.

“Morning, fam!” he said cheerfully. “Only five seconds late, I swear.”

“You’re late,” I muttered, eyes still on my plate.

“Oh come on, don’t be dramatic. I’m not your girlfriend.”

I finally looked up, deadpan.

He raised both hands. “Alright, alright. Relax.”

Mrs. Moretti-my mother-smiled at him, smoothing the tension like oil on water.

“How’s your family, sweetheart? That hotel idea of yours sounds exciting.”

“All good,” he said, flashing his grin. “Thinking about the south of France for the first one.”

“How wonderful. You know, our Judith just finished her hotel management degree. Perhaps she could intern with you?”

Adrian choked on his coffee. I shot him a warning glare. Mrs. Moretti asked him with concern, "Oh, Adrian? child! are you okay?"

Through my peripheral I saw Judith blushed furiously. She was also glaring him. She might have sense my eyes on her as she meekly lowers her gaze to her food. Anger flickering across her face.

Adrian wiped his mouth. “S-Sure, Aunt Camilla. We’ll see.”

I stood abruptly.

“Adrian. We’re leaving. I’m already behind schedule.”

He protested, mouth full.

“You’ve had enough.”

I was already walking out.

Behind us, I heard Shivi mutter: “Pig.”

Adrian groaned. “Fantastic. Just fantastic.”

The drive was silent. Adrian is the one broke first. He always did.

"Could you not drag me out mid-bite everytime?"

I resist the urge to roll my eyes, as I say. "You were eating like a prisoner on his last day."

To which he gives me a dramatic glare as he said. "Still better than starving with you. How could you just do that to me everytime. Invite me in the morning and don't even let me finish the breakfast! It's unfair and rude. last time I checked. You should be sent to a jail for being so awful host."

"Last time I checked, you were a man! Shut this dramatic bitch drama. You punk!"

He wet his lips before saying, switching the conversation. “Seriously though. Why do you live alone? You’ve got family. Two brothers. Sister. Yet you act like they’re ghosts.”

I didn’t answer.

“You show up once a week, just to keep up appearances. No one really knows what’s in your head.”

“I don’t like what I don’t like,” I said flatly.

“That’s the same bullshit you’ve used for ten years.”

I didn’t bother responding.

I parked in my spot. Got out. Slammed the door without looking back. Adrian sighed and followed.

The boardroom at Moretti Global fell silent the moment I walked in. Celon was presenting.

Investors watched carefully. I took my seat at the head.

Everything seemed fine — until Robinson, our primary investor, leaned back.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Moretti,” he said carefully. “But this proposal was already presented to me earlier today. By Adelia Textiles.”

My blood ran cold.

“Excuse me?” My voice was unfimiliarly calm. Too calm.

Robinson cleared his throat. “Word for word, I’m afraid.”

My eyes didn’t move. But my fingers tightened on the armrest until the leather creaked.

After they left, Celon just stood there, frozen.

I didn’t look at him. I was thinking about her. The missing pen drive. The smile.

The way she’d crushed her cigarette under her heel and said: “I don’t care.”

“She took it,” I muttered.

That damn girl.

I stood up so fast my chair toppled over.

Stormed out of the boardroom, ignoring everyone’s stares.

My office door slammed behind me. The anger had nowhere to go. I ripped my coat off. Threw it.

Kicked the desk so hard it splintered.

Breathing ragged. I let out a guttural, furious sound. Then sank into my chair.

Opening a drawer I pulled out a blank sketchpad.

My fingers moved before my mind could catch up. I sketched her.

That mouth. Those eyes. The smirk that had torn through my carefully built walls.

The lines blurred under my grip. But I didn’t stop.

There was a knock.

“S-Sir?” Celon's voice trembled.

“What?” I bark.

“The next meeting—”

“Cancel everything.”

Silence. That's exactly what I need besides the urge of strangling that girl. Wrapping my fingers around her neck and choking her.

“…Yes, sir.”

I didn’t move for a minute. Just stared at the drawing. Her face. That look. She’d stolen from me.

My work.

My trust.

My control.

But she’d given me something too.

Obsession.

I pressed the intercom button.

“Celon. In my office. Now.”

Seconds later the door of my office opened cautiously. I shoved the sketchpad across the table.

“Find her.” I felt my voice lethally calm to which he physically shivered, a little.

Celon swallowed. “....Who is she?”

“I don’t know.” My voice was ice. “But I will.”

To Be Continued.

ARIA

I’m sprawled in the sterile, too-shiny cafeteria of Adelia Tech, one sneaker propped on the chair opposite me, cap pulled low.

I swirl the straw in my iced coffee. Bored. Waiting.

When I see her coming, I can't help the smirk. Adelia Wolfe. My sister. My boss. My worst fucking headache in a designer grey suit.

I give her a lazy, shit-eating grin.

“Hi.”

She doesn’t even bother with a fake smile. Rolls her eyes at me like I’m gum on her Louboutin.

She stops right in front of my table, voice sharp.

“Can we talk. Alone.”

I don’t even take the straw out of my mouth. Just lift my gaze and shrug.

“Yeah. Sure.”

Her lips twist. “Come to my office.”

I don’t move an inch.

She scowls.

“What?”

I finally stand, drop the coffee onto the table with a thud.

“I won’t.”

Adelia looks like she’s about to combust.

“But we have to talk! IN ALONE!”

I fix my cap, lean in until I can see every pissed-off detail of her flawless makeup.

“We can.”

And I just walk out of the cafeteria, not caring if she follows.

I hear her hiss under her breath behind me.

“Ahhh, this crazy bitch!”

Damn right.

---

I don’t look back as I push through the doors of the building and head left down the street.

I can hear her stupid designer heels clicking faster behind me.

“What the hell—”

I stop, spin around, and she shuts the hell up immediately.

Good.

I keep walking, turning left again into a narrow side alley.

I lean back against the cold brick wall, arms folded. Waiting.

Adelia catches up, breathless, hand on her hip.

She looks around like the dirt here might stain her soul.

“Seriously?! You want to talk here?”

I don’t bother answering. Just stare her down.

She huffs, exasperated.

“I mean — my office is better than this!”

My eyes narrow.

“I don’t do free work. Or free bullshit. If you can’t pay for the job, just say it. And don’t ask again.”

I push off the wall and start to walk away.

Her voice cracks behind me.

“Seriously, Riley?!”

I freeze mid-stride.

My blood turns to ice.

I turn back slowly.

Two steps and I have her pinned against the wall, forearm pressing her throat.

Her eyes go wide.

“Don’t. You. Dare. Call me that name,” I snarl. “You have no idea how fast I could end Adelia Wolfe, CEO of Adelia Tech. Do you understand me? Miss Wolfe?”

I spit her name like poison.

She’s sweating.

“Look at you, Riley—”

I shove harder, cutting off her breath.

“Then tell me how I’m supposed to address you? By which bloody goddamn name?!”

I stare at her like she’s nothing.

But the job matters. The cash matters.

My jaw clenches.

“Call me Riley.”

She gasps when I finally release her.

“Oh. Okay. It’s Riley. Cool. Now can you please back off?”

I step back, hands in my pockets, voice icy.

“You bring the money?”

She fumbles in her coat and holds out a check.

I laugh once, dark and humorless.

“You kidding me? I told you. Cash only.”

Her voice drips scorn.

“Why? Don’t know how to use a bank account?”

I glare. Bite my lip so hard I taste blood.

Then I raise my middle finger right in her face.

I turn to leave.

“Okay, okay! Wait!”

I roll my eyes but slow my pace.

She’s scrambling with her phone, ordering someone to bring cash.

I watch her. No expression.

She hangs up and starts looking me over, scanning me.

My teeth grind.

“Stop scanning me or I’ll rip your eyes out.”

She actually jumps back.

“Cool down, bro! I was just thinking—”

“Whatever.” I roll my eyes.

She lifts her palms.

“No, bro. I was just thinking… do you really need money that badly?”

I shove her. Hard.

“No. I just wanted to see your ugly face once. To feel like puking.”

She gapes at me.

Before she can answer, a black car squeals up beside us.

A guy in a suit jumps out with a briefcase. who assume his assistant.

Adelia snatches it, shoves it at me with a forced, smug smile.

Like she’s doing me a favor.

I eye her.

“God, I don’t know how the hell you’re even a businesswoman. You don’t even know how to business.”

Her face falls.

“What now?” she snaps.

I spit my answer.

“Do hell with your money.”

I turn and walk away without another look back.

I hear her shouting behind me.

“What the hell is wrong with this bitch!?”

I just keep walking.

---

---

LUCIEN

I’m going to murder someone.

My office is so silent I can hear the second hand on my watch ticking.

Celon’s standing there like a statue, staring at his feet.

I hurl the file at his chest.

“It’s been a week, Celon. A week. And you people can’t find one goddamn woman?”

He doesn’t answer.

“GET. OUT.”

He scrambles away.

I rub my face, breathing hard.

I’ve been here since dawn. Staring at a sketch.

Not even a real one — just her eyes under that stupid cap.

She haunts me.

No one leaves me. Ever.

But she did.

She stole from me.

She humiliated me.

She fucking vanished.

---

Hours later the door opens without knocking.

Adrian.

Carrying three takeout bags like it’s a joke.

He drops them on the table and collapses into the visitor’s chair.

“Holy shit, man, what a day. You look like hell.”

I don’t look up.

“Robinson deal’s dead.”

He perks up.

“Oh. And the girl?”

My voice is ice.

“We can’t find her.”

Adrian leans forward, grin widening.

“I saw her picture. You’re really into her, huh?”

I meet his eyes and feel something inside me snap.

“Yes. I want to kill her. Desperately. Is that a problem?”

He holds up his palms, laughing nervously.

“Nope. She’s cute, though. Where’d you meet her?”

I glare.

He fidgets.

“I mean—I just wanna try my luck. She looks like the forever type.”

I shut my eyes.

And laugh once, hollow.

“She’d sell you for cab fare.”

Adrian’s grin falters.

I lean back.

“She’s not a dream girl. She’s a nightmare.”

Silence.

I open my drawer and pull out the sketch.

Her eyes stare back.

Accusing. Mocking.

Even now I can hear her voice.

“I don’t give a damn.”

“Thanks for the company.”

“Do you want a one-night stand?”

“Let’s spend the night together.”

I slam the drawer shut.

Adrian’s unpacking noodles.

I grab one and eat without tasting it.

He squints at me.

“You good?”

I tug at my tie. Undo two buttons.

“I’m fine. It’s…hot in here.”

Adrian barks a laugh.

“It’s January, Luc.”

I press my lips together.

“I don’t know what the fuck I’m going to do.”

---

(NIGHT, CLUB)

The car pulls up to the curb outside the club.

I glance over.

Sienna Aldridge is fixing her lipstick, perfect blonde waves, violet dress hugging every inch of her.

I’m so fucking numb.

“Are you done, Sienna?”

She pouts at her reflection.

“Almost, Luc.”

She plants a kiss on my cheek.

I roll my eyes.

Shove open the door.

We ditch our coats inside, heading straight to the VIP section.

She keeps talking.

“Luc, what is wrong with you? You’re so… detached. Did something happen?”

I grab her face. Kiss her hard.

“Nothing. Just work.”

But even as I kiss her, I see her.

That girl.

The ghost in my head.

I shove Sienna away.

She huffs.

“What the hell is wrong with you now?!”

But I’m already pushing past her.

Eyes scanning the club.

Looking.

Hunting.

Needing.

---

To Be Continued.