Aria had been in fancy offices before — but never one that felt like it could hide a thousand secrets.
Adrian Voss’s office was all glass and steel, overlooking Crescent City’s skyline. A storm was rolling in, lightning flashing in the distance, and for a split second she thought — perfect setting for a villain.
He moved behind his desk, jacket off now, sleeves rolled up, the faint line of a tattoo disappearing beneath his cuff. “You can sit, Miss Blake,” he said, gesturing to the leather chair opposite him.
She sat, crossing her legs and pulling out her recorder. “This won’t take long.”
He smiled, leaning back. “Take as long as you want. You’re the one breaking into my building.”
Her pen froze midair. “I didn’t break in. Your receptionist let me in.”
“Only because I told her to.”
He leaned forward, eyes sharp and amused. “So, journalist — what do you want to know?”
Aria met his gaze. “The truth.”
“About what?”
“About who you really are.”
He chuckled. “That could take a lifetime.”
Aria clicked the recorder on. “Let’s start smaller. Your company — Voss Industries — has been accused of laundering money for Crescent’s underworld. Care to comment?”
The smile didn’t fade. “Accused by who?”
“Anonymous sources.”
“Ah,” he said lightly, “so no proof. Just whispers.”
“Whispers are where stories begin.”
He stood, walking around the desk, his shoes silent on the marble floor. He stopped beside her chair, close enough that she could smell the faint spice of his cologne.
“Stories,” he murmured, “are also where lies are born.”
Aria turned toward him, refusing to flinch. “You don’t scare me.”
He smiled faintly. “I’m not trying to. If I wanted to scare you, you’d know.”
Her heartbeat betrayed her — too fast, too loud. “You really think you’re that dangerous?”
He tilted his head. “I don’t think. I know.”
Their eyes locked for a long second before he turned away, walking toward the window. Lightning flashed again, illuminating his reflection in the glass — strong, still, untouchable.
“Tell me, Miss Blake,” he said without turning around. “Why a story on me? Of all the powerful men in this city?”
Aria hesitated. “Because everyone’s afraid to talk about you. I’m not.”
He faced her again. “Maybe you should be.”
Silence stretched between them. Only the rain dared to speak.
Aria broke it first. “If you want me to stop digging, you’ll have to give me something real.”
He studied her, as if weighing a secret. Then, surprisingly, he smiled. “Fine. You want real? Come tonight.”
“What?”
He picked up a card and slid it across the desk. “Gala. 8 p.m. Charity event. I’ll be there. See for yourself what kind of monster I am.”
Aria frowned. “Why would you invite a reporter to your party?”
“Because,” he said softly, “I like watching people pretend they’re brave.”
She pocketed the card and stood. “You really have a god complex, don’t you?”
He grinned. “You’ll find out tonight.”
---
The gala was the kind of event that made the news: chandeliers, champagne, and too many diamonds. Aria wore her one decent black dress, blending in just enough to not stand out — but her nerves buzzed under her skin.
She spotted Adrian immediately. He stood near the bar, surrounded by men in suits and women in silk, smiling like he owned the world. Which, in a way, he probably did.
When his eyes met hers, it was like the rest of the room disappeared.
He excused himself from his circle and walked straight to her. “You came,” he said, clearly pleased.
“I said I would.”
“I didn’t think you’d actually be that reckless.”
“Guess you don’t know me well enough.”
He handed her a glass of champagne. “To bravery, then.”
She took it, trying not to look impressed. “To arrogance.”
He laughed — really laughed — and for a brief moment, she saw something human behind the power.
But the moment didn’t last.
Across the room, a tall man in a gray suit approached, face pale. “Sir,” he whispered, but Aria’s sharp ears caught the words, “The shipment’s late. The docks—”
Adrian’s expression darkened. “Handle it. Quietly.”
The man nodded and left.
Aria’s instincts screamed. “What shipment?”
He turned back, the mask sliding back on. “You really don’t know when to stop, do you?”
“Not when there’s something to uncover.”
“Then maybe you’re the dangerous one here,” he said quietly.
She opened her mouth to reply, but before she could — the lights flickered. A gunshot cracked through the air.
Screams erupted. People scattered. Adrian grabbed Aria by the wrist, pulling her behind a marble column just as chaos exploded around them.
“Stay down!” he ordered.
“What’s happening—”
“Rival family,” he growled, scanning the crowd. “Someone’s sending a message.”
Her heart pounded as she crouched beside him. “You’re telling me this is normal for your parties?”
He gave a short, humorless laugh. “Only on Fridays.”
Another gunshot. The chandelier shattered, raining crystal. Adrian shielded her with his body, his arm tight around her.
When it was finally over, the attackers gone, the room looked like a war zone.
Adrian stood, pulling her up. “Are you hurt?”
She shook her head. “No… I think.”
He looked her over anyway, his hand brushing against her shoulder. “Good.”
She took a shaky breath. “So this is your truth? Blood and money?”
He met her gaze, eyes darker than the storm outside. “My truth,” he said softly, “is that no one gets out clean. Not me. And not you, if you stay.”
She swallowed hard. “Then why invite me?”
He smiled faintly. “Because I wanted you to see what you’re walking into.”
“And what’s that?”
He leaned close, voice barely above a whisper. “My world.”
The sirens echoed outside. The lights flickered back on. Adrian straightened his tie, calm as if nothing had happened.
“Interview’s over,” he said. “For now.”
And before Aria could reply, he was gone again — leaving her standing in the chaos, heart racing, recorder still blinking red.
---
End of Chapter 2
---
***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***
Download
Like this story? Download the app to keep your reading history.
Comments