The Billionaire's Hidden Name.

CHAPTER 4

Kingsley's Pov.]

The door closed behind her before I could pull out of Lucia, now I couldn't get the release I came here for. If I had any trustworthy security detail–I wouldn't have to deal with this.

“Get out,” I said to Lucia, voice low and sharp. I barely waited for her to scramble off the bed before I yanked my pants back on, pulling my mask firmly in place.

She was fast. Too fast. But not fast enough.

No one sneaks a phone into The Red Veil and walks away clean. Especially not while pointing it at me.

I stormed out of the private room, eyes scanning the main floor like a predator. The black mask she’d been clutching was probably already discarded somewhere. If she was smart, she’d already be gone.

But I didn’t need her face.

I had security cameras. I had connections. And now I had a problem that needed to be handled tonight before anything got to the press.

I walked into the restroom, leaving a whimpering Lucia on the bed.

Vincenzo picked up on the second ring. “Boss.”

“I need you to contact the owner of Red veil and get me entry security footage for the night.” I said into the phone.

“Yes sir, give me an hour.” He said simply, I wasn't surprised. He never asked questions–he just followed orders.

—-

I sat in my hotel room–tablet in hand, staying put for my meeting in a few hours. Vincenzo had just sent the club clips I requested for, I was casually watching when I caught a familiar silhouette.

I watched as she handed over a phone to the guard–looking every part a newbie, just like I'd noted when I saw her. It was one of two things-She either wasn't a newbie or someone told her about the no phones rule which existing members aren't allowed to discuss with newbies. I leaned back in the leather chair. Got you.

The club's security footage played on mute, but I didn’t need sound. There—frame 47, timestamp 11:37 p.m. She stepped into view, dark hair catching the low lights, that unmistakable sway in her hips, the way her dress clung to her body as she moved into the club.

My fingers froze on the screen.

There you are. A slow, predatory smile curved my lips. Finally, I’d been hunting for her through hours of grainy footage, and now—

Tap-tap-tap… thud.

The sound sliced through the silence of my suite.

Vincenzo. No one else knew that exact rhythm—three crisp knocks followed by one deliberate, heavier rap. His signature knock I had grown accustomed to over the years, burned into my mind.

I didn’t look away from the screen immediately. My c**k gave a low, interested twitch at the sight of her frozen image, even as reality intruded.

“Come in.”

The door opened with a soft click. Vincenzo stepped inside, tablet in hand, his expression the usual mask of cool efficiency. “Your meeting with the console group is in ten minutes, sir. Cars are already waiting downstairs. You asked me to remind you personally if you went past the twenty-minute warning.”

I exhaled through my nose, eyes still locked on her face on the monitor. Ten minutes. Barely enough time to commit every detail of her to memory before I had to play the part of a civilized billionaire again.

“Might as well get it over with now.” I said, voice low. My gaze traced the curve of her waist on screen.

“Find out everything about her, I want details immediately after my meeting.” I said, passing the tablet to him.

—----

The conference room door had barely closed behind the last executive when Vincenzo appeared at my side. The meeting had run long and my patience was already thin. I ran the gaming division with ruthless focus, while my elder brother Antonio controlled the entertainment side — films, streaming platforms, and turning our game IPs into global franchises. Our youngest sister Louisa, as usual, floated between both worlds like the free spirit she was.

Vincenzo waited until we were alone in the hallway before extending the thick black folder.

“Everything you requested on the lady. Full background, financials, medical records, digital footprint — the complete package. Recently unemployed, we dug deep.”

I took the folder without breaking stride, its weight solid and satisfying in my hand. The scent of fresh ink and expensive paper rose as I flipped it open briefly. Her photo stared back at me from the first page.

Name:Amelia Thompson, Age:23, A freelance journalist..just like I had thought.

“Excellent,” I murmured. “Have the car brought around. I need to fill you in on why I need this.”

Vincenzo gave a crisp nod and fell into step behind me, smart enough not to say anything else.

I pulled out my phone again and refreshed the headlines for what felt like the hundredth time since Red veil. No scandals. Not yet. But constantly checking for my own name in the dirt wasn’t a routine I planned to continue.

I needed this situation locked down..fast