Chapter 2
1163 Words
(Arabella's POV)
The elevator drops me straight from Kingston Manor’s private rooftop to the garage below—a glossy chamber filled with cars that cost more than some people’s homes. Machines polished to perfection, lined up like obedient soldiers.
I don’t feel like perfection tonight.
I feel like destruction.
I slip into my matte–black coupe, start the engine, and let the aggressive purr drown my thoughts. Within seconds, I’m racing down the cliff road, the ocean wind tearing at my hair through the open window. Aurelia City rises ahead of me, its skyline glowing like a promise and a warning.
I should be scared.
I should be ashamed.
I should be thinking about the ultimatum my parents gave me.
But I feel alive.
And when I feel alive, I run.
By the time I reach The Underworld District, the streets grow darker, louder, messier. Neon lights smear across the pavement like spilled paint. People move in packs—dancers, drifters, thrill-seekers, sinners. This is my real kingdom. No marble floors. No cold eyes. No expectations.
Just chaos.
Just freedom.
I park near the alley behind The Den and immediately feel the bass from inside vibrating against my ribs. The air is thick with heat, sweat, perfume, and danger.
Perfect.
A bouncer recognizes me instantly—he always does—and steps aside without a word. He knows better than to stop me. Everyone here does.
I descend the concrete steps into the red-lit underground.
The Den swallows me whole.
Scarlet lights pulse along the walls. Velvet curtains hang in seductive waves. Bodies grind and sway to music that sounds like s*x turned into sound. Masked dancers move like smoke, like temptation. Shadows flicker across private rooms where secrets have teeth.
I inhale, exhale, letting the place claim me.
Here, I’m not Arabella Kingston, billionaire heiress; I’m a craving wrapped in skin.
I walk through the crowd, hips swaying, my dress short enough to start fights. Hands brush me—some bold, some hesitant, some begging. I let a few linger. I pull away from others. Control feels good.
For once, I control the narrative.
“Arabella,” a familiar voice purrs behind me.
I turn and find Kade, one of my occasional… distractions. Tall, tattooed, charming in a predictable way. The kind of man who thinks he’s dangerous until he meets someone truly dangerous.
“You’re early tonight,” he says, eyes sliding down my body.
“I needed a drink,” I answer.
“And a man?” he asks boldly.
I smile, leaning close enough for him to smell my perfume. “Maybe.”
He laughs, placing a hand on my hip—but the moment he touches me, something inside me recoils.
He feels… wrong. Too easy. Too forgettable.
Not enough.
I step back. “Not tonight.”
Kade’s eyebrows lift, surprised but not offended. He knows I’m unpredictable. It’s part of the thrill, apparently.
“You’ll come find me if you change your mind,” he says.
I won’t.
I head toward the bar, feeling the hunger in me deepen—not just s****l, but emotional. A need for something raw, something real, something that cuts deep.
Something that hurts.
I slide onto a stool, crossing my legs slowly, deliberately. The bartender glances up, ready to take my order—
—but freezes.
His eyes widen.
Wait.
Not because of me.
Because someone is standing behind me.
I feel him before I turn.
A presence.
A heat.
A gravity that pulls the air tight around me.
Slowly, I look over my shoulder.
And he’s there.
A stranger.
Tall.
Broad.
Shadowed in dark clothing.
His face half-lit by the crimson glow of the club.
He looks like he was carved from smoke and sin.
His eyes—God—his eyes lock onto mine, pinning me in place. They’re dark, unreadable, but burning with something feral. Something dangerous.
Something that sees straight through me.
My lips part, breath catching.
The man doesn’t smile. He doesn’t speak. He just watches me, like he’s studying a creature he’s never seen before but intends to devour.
“Do I… know you?” I manage to ask.
His voice is deep, smooth, almost hypnotic.
“No.”
I swallow. My heart trips over itself.
“But I know what you’re looking for.”
The heat that shoots through me is instant and violent.
I turn fully to face him. “And what’s that?”
He steps closer—slow enough to be polite, close enough to be intimate. His scent hits me first: clean, masculine, faintly spicy. My thighs clench instinctively.
He leans in, his lips brushing my ear—not touching, just close enough to burn.
“You’re looking for someone who won’t be afraid of you.”
A shiver cascades down my spine.
He steps back just enough to study my reaction.
“And someone,” he adds, voice dropping lower, “you can’t control.”
My pulse thrashes.
This man… he’s not like the others.
He doesn’t want me for the Kingston name.
He doesn’t want the power of touching someone like me.
He wants the challenge.
He wants the fire.
He wants me.
“Who are you?” I whisper.
He finally gives a ghost of a smile. Small. Dangerous. Beautiful.
“Jaxon.”
Jaxon.
The name slithers across my skin like a kiss.
Everything about him radiates control. Precision. s****l dominance. The kind of man who could ruin a woman just by saying her name.
I lick my lips. “You’re new here.”
“I go where I’m needed.”
“And tonight,” I say boldly, “you need to be here?”
“No.” He lifts my chin with one finger—slow, deliberate, claiming. “Tonight, you need me.”
My breath stutters.
His touch is barely there, but it shoots electricity through my veins, lighting up every reckless, broken part of me.
I should pull away.
I should run.
I should do anything except fall into this heat.
But I don’t.
“Then take me,” I whisper.
Jaxon’s eyes darken—slow, dangerous, promising things I’m not ready for but craving anyway.
Without breaking eye contact, he lifts my hand and presses his lips against my knuckles.
“Not here,” he murmurs. “Not like the others.”
The denial sparks heat low in my belly. “Why not?”
“Because you’re not meant to be taken in the shadows,” he says softly. “You’re meant to be unraveled.”
My legs tremble.
He turns away, as if walking off is the most infuriatingly casual thing in the world.
“Come find me,” he says without looking back, “when you’re ready for the truth.”
He disappears into the crowd.
And I’m left gasping, trembling, burning.
Because for the first time in my life…
I think I just met the man who might destroy me.
- Writer
