Chapter Six : The Second Visit
1000 Words
Fernanda wasn’t expecting anyone that morning. Her calendar was empty, the studio quiet except for the soft hum of her editing laptop. The world outside was washed in pale sunlight, the kind that made the city seem harmless.
She was halfway through retouching a wedding portrait when the sharp click of the studio door’s latch made her freeze.
Her landlord had a key. So did her assistant. But the footsteps she heard weren’t familiar—too measured, too heavy, too deliberate.
She turned slowly.
Ace stood in the doorway, dressed in black from head to toe. The kind of black that swallowed light, paired with that same air of effortless command. His eyes found her instantly, and something in her belly tightened.
“You left before I could say goodbye last time,” he said, his tone smooth, as though this was a perfectly normal conversation.
Her voice caught, but she forced steel into it. “You can’t just walk in here. This is my studio, not—”
“Not what?” His gaze traveled from her face to the loose sweater slipping off one shoulder, then down the curve of her hip before sliding back to her eyes. “Not mine?”
Her stomach knotted. “You don’t own me.”
His mouth curved, slow and dangerous. “Not yet.”
She gripped the edge of her desk, pulse hammering. “Why are you here?”
Ace stepped further inside, the faint scent of his cologne—dark spice and heat—curling around her like invisible hands. “I thought maybe you’d have questions. About me. About what I am.”
She swallowed hard, her Omega instincts screaming at her to either run or submit. Neither option felt safe.
“I don’t want trouble,” she said.
He stopped barely a foot away from her, leaning forward just enough for his voice to drop into something intimate. “Trouble’s not what I came for, little Omega. I came for you.”
Her breath hitched. She should tell him to leave. She should open the door and shove him out. But when his gaze locked on hers, molten and unyielding, she realized that the real danger wasn’t him being in her studio.
It was the part of her that didn’t want him to go.
Her fingers twitched against the desk, itching to do something—push him away, pull him closer, she didn’t know which.
“Ace…” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Whatever you think this is, it’s not happening.”
He tilted his head, watching her with a slow smile that made her pulse skip. “You sure about that?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “I’m sure.”
“Funny,” he murmured, taking another step forward so their bodies almost touched, “because your scent is saying something else entirely.”
Her cheeks burned. “Stop.”
He didn’t move back. “I’m not here to hurt you, Fernanda. But you should know—Alphas don’t show up twice without a reason.”
“I never asked you to show up once.”
“Maybe not.” His eyes darkened, voice low and deliberate. “But you looked at me like you already knew what I was. And you didn’t run.”
She clenched her jaw. “I’m not afraid of you.”
“Good.” His smile deepened, and for a moment she thought he might actually touch her. Instead, he leaned past her, placing a single glossy black business card on her desk. His fingers brushed the edge of her sweater—just enough to send a shiver racing down her spine.
“When you’re ready to stop pretending you don’t want to know more,” he said, “call me.”
Before she could reply, he turned and walked out, leaving the studio door slightly ajar.
Fernanda stood frozen, staring at the card. No name, no title. Just a number.
And a faint, lingering trace of his scent.
Her fingers hovered over the card, not touching it, as if contact alone might brand her.
She should throw it away. Toss it into the trash with the coffee cups and scrap paper and pretend this morning never happened.
But her body wasn’t on the same page as her brain. Her pulse was still racing. Her mouth still dry. And every time she inhaled, the ghost of his scent curled through her chest, stirring something she didn’t want to name.
Fernanda turned back to her laptop, determined to bury herself in work.
Click. Click. The mouse moved, the images shifted on screen.
But after only five minutes she realized she’d been staring at the same photo—Ace’s face caught mid-smirk, eyes locked straight on the lens. The moment she’d felt his Alpha presence strongest.
Her throat tightened.
With a sharp motion, she shut the laptop. The silence that followed was almost deafening.
Her gaze slid back to the card.
One number. One call.
She told herself she wouldn’t.
She told herself she didn’t need to.
But deep down, in the part of her that still hummed with heat from his nearness, she knew it was only a matter of time.
The sound of the door swinging shut downstairs made her flinch.
She was alone again. At least, she hoped she was.
She stood, crossing to the window, and pulled the blinds back just enough to peek outside.
The street was empty. No Ace. No tall shadow leaning against the wall.
And yet, she swore she could feel him. Somewhere close. Watching. Waiting.
Her eyes drifted back to the card on her desk. She reached for it—then stopped, curling her fingers into a fist.
Not today.
She flicked off the studio lights, locking the door behind her.
But as she stepped into the hallway, a faint scent clung to the air—warm, heady, and unmistakably Alpha.
Her knees weakened.
He was gone.
And still, he was everywhere.
- Writer
