The Second Chance Bride

CHAPTER TWO

Edward

As I stepped out of the car, Tom grabbed my arm gently, his eyes scanning the neon-lit entrance of the club.

“Boss, are you sure about this place? It’s not exactly low-profile,” Tom said, his voice low and cautious.

I waved him off, the whiskey bottle already calling my name. “I need to drown this s**t, Tom. That contract… a billion dollars, gone. You know what that means for us.”

He frowned, his jaw tight. “I know, boss. But you don’t look good. Let me stay close, just in case.”

“No,” I snapped, sharper than I meant. “I need to be alone. No babysitting tonight. Stay out here, handle the car, and don’t come in unless I call you.”

Tom hesitated, then nodded, his eyes flickering with something—worry, maybe? “Alright, boss. But you call if anything feels off, yeah?”

I didn’t answer, just turned toward the club, the bass thumping like a heartbeat in my chest.

I sat alone in the VIP lounge, clutching the glass of whiskey that did nothing but burn my throat. I emptied glasses and leaned in the chair, watching everybody lose themselves.

The contract would have been my biggest, and my secretary just threw it away like a piece of dirt. I just wanted a different atmosphere, an environment to distract myself. I've fired her, but guess what changed? Nothing.

I've been chasing it for too long. Out of negligence, I watched a billion-dollar contract slip from the tip of my fingers. Maybe after this, I'd visit a rage room—punch the walls, break anything, even if my knuckles bleed.

I can't get it off my head. Alcohol helped, but I guess it did more bad than good. The waitress leaned closer, her perfume sharp, cutting through the haze of whiskey. Her smile was too perfect, as if it was practiced.

“Another round, sir?” She asked carefully, her voice like silk.

I squinted, trying to focus on her face, but the room spun. “How many have… I had?” My words slurred, heavy on my tongue.

She tilted her head, eyes glimmering under the dim lights. “Oh, you’re fine, sir. Did you have a rough day?”

I laughed, bitter. “Rough is an understatement. Billion-dollar deal, poof, gone like dust.”

Her smile didn’t waver, but her fingers brushed my glass as she slid it away. “Sounds like you need more than a drink. Let me get you somewhere quieter.”

My stomach twisted—something about her tone felt wrong, too eager, too planned. But my legs were jelly, and her hand was already on my arm. “Let me help you, sir. I think you might need a room.”

My instincts screamed, ‘No,’ the words didn't make it past my mouth. I couldn't resist. I felt heavy; the whole room spun, looking like the people now danced in circles.

The waitress helped me into a strange room. I entered, and then she closed the door behind me.

The next morning,

Sharp knocks jarred me from sleep, and my eyes flung wide open. The bedspread draped over me, and I was stark naked. Dried semen stained my thigh and stomach - a testament to how far I'd gone.

The woman entangled in my arms last night like a second skin—she was gone like a ghost. There was no sign of her, only her torn dress and my clothes littered the floor, the centre light focusing on it as if it was reminding me of my mistakes.

“Boss, I've been searching for you.” Tom rushed in, a bit panicked, his forehead creased into a scowl.

Confusion stirred my insides; I looked around, blinking continuously. Why did she leave like that?

“Where have you been?” I asked him, voice harsh, with a hint of blame.

“You asked me not to enter the club area, boss. You said you wanted to be alone.” He said carefully, his words like sniper choosing targets.

My blood ran cold. Worse, icy.

I could feel the tension coiling in my muscles. Each second questioning my actions, which I could faintly remember, a deafening silence stretched between us. Only the soft hum of the air conditioning and the tick of the clock that now sounded like gunfire.

“You have a business meeting by 10am, boss.” Tom announced, his voice slicing through the tense atmosphere. Honestly, I didn't want to attend.

“Reschedule it.” I replied almost immediately. I didn't take a beat, my voice final. Let them talk. Let them complain about the lost contract. We'll brace up for the next one.

“Did you see any lady around?” I asked sternly, staring at his face for answers. It took him seconds before he shook his head and talked.

“No, boss. I didn't see anybody.”

Fuck, I didn't even know what she looked like. I hit my forehead with the heel of my palm. Frustrated.

“Stay by the car; I'll be downstairs.” I said, my voice clipped and final, tinged with barely contained rage.

The chill morning air hit me as Tom opened the back door, every movement calculated like he knew I was close to explosion. I slid in, staring ahead. He entered the car, buckling his seat belt.

“Take me home.” I ordered. No matter how hard I tried to distract myself, the thought of her lingered in my mind, like a metal bar and a magnet, like she was here to stay. I can't concentrate.

I stormed out of the car as soon as Tom stopped the engine in the parking lot. I sat on the couch, close to the edge, everything in the living room personally annoying me, head in my hands, legs tapping on the ground.

“Tom, return to the hotel and ask for their footage.” I ordered. How would I trace her?

Hours later, Tom returned.

“I didn’t find anything, boss.” He bowed slightly, hands clasped in front of him…. The surveillance camera in the hallway was blurry. It was just the club area, and we couldn't recognize her .”

“I'm sure I was drugged. Who is the waitress?”

“They said she’s not recognized. She’s not a worker.” Tom replied.

Fuck! Something clicked. From the alcohol to the disguised waitress and the surveillance camera. Someone must be after me. My eyes narrowed in thought.

“She left with my coat…my brown coat,” I muttered, the realization dawning on me.

“Maybe she's just one of those girls, boss. She knows the worth of the coat.” Tom answered, his voice rough, like he was referring to something beneath his shoes.

“You don't criticize people like that.” I looked up and shot him a dangerous glare; his comportment changed in an instant. Funny enough, I didn't even know her, and yet here I am going back and forth to defend her.

“It might be a coincidence,” Tom continued, his voice softer.

“You expect me to believe that’s a coincidence?” I said, my voice tight, clearly on the edge of my patience.

He shifted, uncomfortable. “I didn’t see her, boss. You told me to stay outside, remember?”

I stopped, staring him down. “Yeah, I remember. But you were there, Tom. You always are. If someone set me up, you’d know, wouldn’t you?”

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t flinch. “I’m on your side, boss. Always have been. But chasing this girl—she’s a dead end. Focus on the contract.”

I slammed my fist on the table. “She’s not a dead end. She was in my bed, in my head. I need to know who she was.”