New Start
927 Words
Ace Wolfe’s POV
The sun was setting over the Wolfe estate, but the weight in Ace’s chest hadn’t shifted an inch since brunch.
He loosened his tie and tossed it on the pool table in his penthouse lounge. The room smelled faintly of oak and leather, the only sound being the slow roll of billiard balls as Matt lined up a shot.
“She’s different, huh?” Matt asked, eyes following the cue.
Ace didn’t answer right away. He stood at the bar, pouring himself a drink — something expensive and aged like everything in his life.
“I don’t know what the hell she is,” he muttered finally, sipping. “But I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Matt chuckled, knocking in two stripes. “That’s a first. You thinking about a girl for more than five minutes.”
“She’s not just a girl,” Ace said tightly, jaw flexing.
“Oh?” Matt raised a brow, amused. “She’s a contract bride, right? So what’s got you acting like you’ve seen a damn ghost?”
Ace didn’t speak. Instead, he leaned over the edge of the bar, his mind replaying the soft curve of her neck, the fire in her eyes when she talked back, the way she wore grace like armor.
“I want her,” he said finally.
Matt froze. “You want her…?”
“I want her in my bed, under me, screaming my name. And not because of some contract.” His voice was gravel. Dark. Honest. “I want her begging for it.”
Matt blinked. “Jesus.”
“I’m not in love with her,” Ace added quickly, jaw tight. “But I need to have her.”
Matt leaned on his cue stick. “Then take her away. Fly her somewhere. You own half the goddamn planet—act like it. Sweep her off her feet, Ace.”
Ace’s fingers drummed on his glass. “She’s not that easy. And I don’t chase.”
“You’ve already started,” Matt said, smirking.
Ace didn’t reply. He hated how true that was.
⸻
Alara Grey’s POV
The coffee shop smelled like cinnamon, roasted beans, and old ambition.
I was behind the counter wiping down the espresso machine, trying not to daydream about the ridiculously massive mansion I’d visited yesterday. Or the man who held my hand under the table like it meant nothing and everything at once.
Percy leaned against the counter beside me, sipping iced tea like it was gossip fuel. “So… let me get this straight,” she said slowly. “You own this place now?”
I blinked. “Technically. I didn’t ask for it.”
She let out a low whistle. “Girl, you really did the billionaire starter pack. Black card. Penthouse. Now a whole coffee shop?”
I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t sleep with him, Percy.”
“Yet,” she sing-songed, wiggling her brows. “I’m just saying, you’re living every broke girl’s fantasy right now.”
Before I could reply, the door chimed.
My heart dropped into my stomach.
Ryan.
My ex.
He walked in like a ghost from a chapter I’d long since burned — tall, brown-eyed, wearing the same smug smile he always used to get away with things.
“Alara,” he said softly, approaching the counter. “You look good.”
I tensed. “Ryan. What are you doing here?”
“Just wanted to see you.” His eyes scanned the shop, lingering on Percy, then returning to me. “I heard about your mom. I’m sorry. Really.”
I nodded stiffly. “Thanks.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “I miss you. I was an i***t. I never should’ve left you.”
Before I could shut it down, my phone buzzed on the counter.
A message.
Unknown Number: The car’s outside. I’m taking you away for the weekend.
My heart jolted.
Ace.
Before I could respond, the door chimed again—and in walked a tall, suited bodyguard in all black.
He walked right up to me, completely ignoring Ryan.
“Miss Grey,” he said with a polite bow. “The car is waiting.”
Ryan looked stunned. “What the hell—?”
“I have to go,” I said firmly, grabbing my bag.
“Alara—wait. Who the hell is sending drivers for you now?” Ryan’s voice rose, jealous and petty.
“I moved on,” I said without looking back.
Percy’s jaw dropped as I passed her. “Wait—where are you going?”
“I have no idea,” I muttered, stepping into the car.
⸻
The black Mercedes purred through the city streets until it reached the edge of a private terminal. My eyes widened as I saw the private jet, sleek and glinting under the hangar lights.
The bodyguard opened the door.
At the foot of the stairs stood Clarke—looking stunning in a beige travel set—and beside her… was a guy I didn’t recognize. Early thirties, tall, sharp jawline, flashing a devilish smile and an expensive watch.
Clarke squealed when she saw me. “Surprise, bestie!”
I turned to the bodyguard. “Where are we going?”
“Mr. Wolfe will explain everything on board.”
As I took the first step onto the jet, I exhaled slowly.
Whatever this weekend was… it was no longer just a contract.
It was the beginning of something else.
Something dangerously thrilling.
- Writer
