Chapter three: Aftermath
688 Words
(Elena's POV)
I should’ve said no.
I should’ve laughed, excused myself, dragged Rachel to the bar, and slipped out before I got swallowed whole by the weight of this man’s presence.
But when he told me to drink with him, my lips betrayed me. They parted, whispered, “Okay.”
And just like that, I was caught.
He guided me with the faintest touch on my back. Barely there, but it burned hotter than the club’s velvet lights. The crowd parted for him not because he pushed, but because they knew better than to get in his way.
I still didn’t know his name. Only the cut of his jaw, the cold steel of his eyes, the commanding way he moved like this place belonged to him.
Maybe it did.
We reached a secluded table tucked against the wall, the kind that offered privacy without isolation. A server appeared instantly, bowing slightly before placing two crystal glasses of something amber and expensive in front of us.
I wrapped my hands around the glass, mostly to keep them from trembling.
“You don’t drink whiskey,” he said, not a question but a statement.
I arched my brow. “And how would you know?”
His gaze dipped to my mouth, then back up again, sharp enough to make me forget how to breathe. “Because it’s strong. Burns if you’re not used to it. And you…” His lips curved in the faintest, most arrogant smirk. “…you’re used to sweet things.”
My stomach flipped. Heat flushed my skin, crawling up my neck. He wasn’t wrong. I hated whiskey. I preferred cheap sangria or fruity cocktails with too much sugar. But I wasn’t about to let him win this easily.
So I lifted the glass, locked eyes with him, and drank.
It hit me like fire, burning down my throat, making my eyes water. I barely managed to keep my face straight, but I swallowed and set the glass down like it hadn’t wrecked me.
His gaze softened no, sharpened like he was peeling me apart, layer by layer. “Liar,” he murmured.
I leaned forward, chin high. “Maybe I like to surprise people.”
“Maybe you like to test limits.”
Something about the way he said it made my chest tighten. Because it didn’t sound like a casual flirtation. It sounded like a promise, one I wasn’t sure I was ready for.
Silence stretched between us, thick, humming. My pulse beat loud in my ears. I should’ve asked his name, or at least what he wanted from me. But instead, the question that slipped out was softer, unguarded:
“Why me?”
His eyes narrowed, unreadable. “Because you’re not supposed to be here. And yet, you are. That makes you dangerous.”
Dangerous. The word rolled through me like a dare.
Before I could answer, Rachel appeared at my side, cheeks flushed from dancing, eyes widening at the sight of him. She opened her mouth, but one glance from him shut her up fast , so commanding it made me want to shut up too.
“Ellie,” she hissed instead, tugging at my arm. “Bathroom. Now.”
I shot her a confused look. “What?”
Her grip tightened. Her eyes flicked toward him, then back at me. Something in her expression said we need to talk.
I hesitated.
And in that pause, he leaned closer, his breath brushing my ear. “Don’t keep me waiting too long.”
My heart nearly stopped.
I let Rachel drag me toward the hallway, pulse still racing, legs unsteady.
“Rachel,” I whispered once we were out of earshot, “what the hell”
“Do you even know who that is?” she cut me off, eyes wide, frantic.
I frowned. “No.”
Her voice dropped low. “That’s Dominic Vale.”
The name hit me like ice water. Even I’d heard of him. Billionaire. Ruthless. The man behind half the city’s silent empires.
And the man who was currently waiting for me, a predator’s patience in his eyes.
- Writer
