Chapter Two: The Dare
930 Words
Ella tried to forget him.
She really did.
She threw herself into her classes, filled her schedule with tutoring, study groups, anything that would keep her mind from drifting. But every time she blinked, she saw him. Every time she closed her eyes at night, he was there again—his voice curling inside her like smoke, his words a noose around her throat.
"Come back alone. When you’re ready to stop pretending you’re innocent."
God, he was infuriating.
And even worse?
He was right.
---
It was nearly midnight when she found herself walking again—past the busier, safer streets, toward that same narrow alley she swore she’d never return to.
This time, the red light above the door felt like a challenge. Or maybe a warning.
She didn’t knock.
She just pushed the door open and stepped inside.
---
The hallway was the same—velvet-lined and humming with sensual energy. But she walked it differently now. Shoulders straighter. Chin lifted.
She wasn’t sure what she was doing. But she knew one thing: she wasn’t going to let him get inside her head again. If he wanted to play games, fine. She’d play too. Just long enough to prove to herself she wasn’t some wide-eyed fool he could toy with.
Inside the club, the air wrapped around her like warm silk. This time, she wasn’t startled by the shadows or the heat. She embraced it.
And he was there—exactly where she expected.
Leaning against the bar like he had all the time in the world. A glass in his hand. Eyes already locked on her.
He didn’t smile. Didn’t speak. Just watched her approach like she was something wild that had finally wandered back into the trap.
“I’m not staying long,” she said when she reached him.
Rhett lifted his glass to his lips. “You came back.”
“It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Of course it does.” His voice was smooth, but his gaze was razor-sharp. “It means you’ve been thinking about what it feels like to be touched by someone who sees through you.”
Ella’s throat tightened. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know enough.” His eyes flicked down her body. “You chose silk again. This one shorter. Tighter.”
She flushed. “Coincidence.”
“Liar.”
She tried to speak, but his hand was already moving—slow and deliberate—as he set his glass down, straightened, and stepped into her space.
“I’ll make you a deal,” he murmured.
Her breath caught.
“Three nights,” he said. “Just three. No names. No strings. Just me showing you what your body’s been begging for.”
Her stomach twisted. “What makes you think I want that?”
He leaned in, lips grazing the shell of her ear.
“Because you came back.”
Ella clenched her fists at her sides, trying to summon the will to leave. “And if I say no?”
Rhett’s breath was warm against her throat. “Then I’ll walk away. But you’ll still think about it. Every night. Every time you touch yourself and it’s not enough.”
Heat burned down her spine.
This wasn’t flirting.
This was possession wrapped in velvet.
“I don’t play games,” she said.
“Yes, you do. You just don’t know the rules yet.”
Ella turned, intending to walk away before she fell too far, too fast.
But then—
“Let me prove it.”
She froze.
He stepped behind her, voice low.
“One touch,” he said. “One. If you feel nothing, you can leave. But if you flinch—if you react—I get a night.”
She swallowed. Her pulse thundered in her ears.
A dare.
And a part of her—a dark, aching part—wanted to lose.
“Fine,” she said.
His hand slid up her bare arm so slowly it felt like her skin had forgotten what softness was. Just his fingertips. Nothing more.
But she gasped. She couldn’t help it. Her knees wobbled.
He didn’t gloat. Didn’t smile.
He leaned down and whispered, “One.”
---
He didn’t take her upstairs that night.
Didn’t rip her clothes off or drag her into the shadows.
Instead, he walked away after that one word. Left her standing there breathless and trembling, with her thighs pressed tight together and her thoughts shattered.
As if to say: This is my game. I decide when we play.
And it was infuriating.
She hated him for it.
She also wanted more.
---
At home, she paced her room like a caged thing. Her dress still clung to her skin, and the heat between her legs hadn’t faded. She wanted to scream.
Instead, she sat on the edge of her bed and texted Nina.
> ELLA: Who the hell is Rhett Wolfe?
The typing dots appeared. Then paused.
> NINA: Uh-oh. He got to you, didn’t he?
> ELLA: He’s dangerous.
> NINA: That’s the fun part.
> ELLA: No seriously. Who is he?
> NINA: Owner. Rich. Ex-something. Probably illegal. Why?
> ELLA: He made me a deal.
> NINA: 👀
NINA: Say yes.
Ella threw her phone across the bed and stared at the ceiling.
She already had.
---
The next morning, an envelope was slipped under her apartment door.
No note. No signature.
Inside: a black card with her name handwritten in silver ink.
Just one word beneath it.
"Two."
- Writer
