Control me.

Chapter 14 - Irina.

My drink was almost finished, and with it, my patience. I could feel the glass sticking to my fingers—cold and damp—yet I held it tightly, as if it were the only thing keeping me upright in that ridiculous little world around me. Everyone nearby was smiling, talking loudly, flirting, flashing their watches and business cards like trophies.

I, on the other hand, felt like an outsider, as if I were watching a play I had never wanted to attend.

I turned my head toward Paul. He was still buried in conversation with Nick and Alan, his eyes shining with excitement—like a little boy who had just been allowed to play with the "big boys."

I gave him a look, sharp and unmistakable: Let's go. Now.

Without even looking at me the way I wanted him to, he lifted his hand and made that familiar gesture with his finger—just a moment—a small circle in the air, paired with a naive little smile.

I felt the blood rush straight to my head.

I exhaled loudly, so loudly that a few people around us turned to look. I couldn't stand it anymore. I grabbed my purse with a sharp movement, slung the strap over my shoulder, and without offering any explanation, started walking toward the restrooms.

I needed a moment alone. A breath of air. I couldn't keep watching those ridiculous smiles—or Paul drinking every word Martinez said like it was gospel.

The music grew louder as I walked. Red and blue lights danced across the walls, while the scent of expensive cigars and alcohol filled every corner of the club.

I pushed open the door to the women's restroom with irritation—almost angrily.

But what I saw froze my entire body.

Nick.

And he wasn't alone.

He stood there leaning against the wall like the king of a scene that belonged entirely to him. His shirt was half open, and that arrogant smile played on his lips—while that gaze I already hated was fixed directly on me.

And in front of him, on their knees, were two women.

Overdressed. Heavy makeup. Eyes full of eager anticipation.

One of them moved rhythmically in front of him while the other ran her hands along his body and kissed his neck.

My breath caught.

My eyes widened before my mind could even process what I was seeing. My body went cold, my fingers trembling against my purse.

And then—

He smiled.

Not a normal smile.

An arrogant, provocative one, as if he were daring me to stay. To watch. To admit that he was completely in control of the moment.

As if he knew that this image would carve itself into my mind and never leave.

My heart pounded so hard I thought it might tear through my chest.

Without thinking, I spun around, shoved the door open again, and stepped back outside. The door slammed behind me with a loud bang—but Martinez's laugh, low and mocking, still echoed in my ears.

I walked quickly, almost running, back toward Paul. I needed to calm down, to collect my expression before he asked what had happened.

I had no intention of telling him anything.

I wasn't about to give Martinez the satisfaction of knowing he had shocked me.

I found Paul exactly where I had left him. Still talking. Still laughing. Leaning forward as if begging them to take him seriously.

He didn't even turn to look at my face when I approached.

"Are you done?" I asked sharply, my voice heavier than I intended.

He half-turned toward me, glanced at me briefly, and with that infuriating calm of his said,

"Just a minute, Irina. A little longer."

I pressed my lips together, swallowing the reply I wanted to throw at him.

I could feel sweat burning at the back of my neck, my stomach tied into a tight knot. All I wanted was to leave. To get away from this place.

To get away from that man whose gaze had locked onto me, smiling as if he already knew every dark thought in my mind.

I sat down again, lit another cigarette with trembling hands, and took a deep drag. The smoke filled my lungs, but it didn't calm me.

My mind was still there, behind that door.

Stuck on the image I should never have seen.

The image I knew I would never forget.

And then I realized something.

What I felt wasn't only anger.

It was something else too.

A sting of forbidden curiosity.

A quiet burning I didn't even want to admit to myself.