The handle turned.
I froze, limbs stiff beneath the desk. My breath was barely a whisper as the door creaked open and footsteps entered the office.
It was Dante.
His walk was deliberate—neither rushed nor lazy—but there was weight to it, like a man with too much on his mind. I could hear the leather of his shoes kiss the floor as he moved. Closer. Then closer still.
He stopped right in front of the desk.
I held my breath.
The wood above me creaked softly as he placed something down. Keys? A phone? I didn't dare shift to look. My knees were crammed against the cabinet drawers, my back pressed to the frame. One wrong move and—
He moved again.
A single step to the side. He was coming around.
I clenched my jaw, heartbeat surging in my ears. Don't move. Don't breathe.
His hand brushed the desk edge, fingers curling just above my head. Then he took another step.
"Dante."
The voice cracked through the air like a whip. Authoritative and cold.
Dante stopped instantly. The room went still, the tension so sharp I could feel it slice through the silence.
"Boss," Dante said. The word came out tight, like it took effort.
"Status on the shipment," the man demanded coolly.
Dante cleared his throat before answering. "It's out. Left ten minutes ago. Everything's intact. No delays."
The pause that followed felt like a noose tightening.
"You checked it yourself?" the man asked, slow and deliberate.
"I did," Dante replied. "Personally."
Another silence. Not just hesitation—calculation.
"I don't want personally. I want perfectly," the boss snapped.
Dante's voice dipped lower, steadier. "Understood."
"You were sloppy last month," the man continued. "Do I need to remind you what happened in Prague?"
"No, sir."
"Then why do I still have to ask twice about something you should've handled before I walked through that door?"
"I didn't expect you tonight," Dante admitted, tone edged with tension.
"I don't care what you expected," the boss growled. "That's the first sign of a man getting comfortable. And comfort, Dante, gets people killed."
Dante's silence screamed louder than any words.
Finally, the man's voice shifted—calmer, but still sharp. "I'll follow up with headquarters myself. If there's even a hint of discrepancy—"
"There won't be," Dante cut in, quick but respectful. "You have my word."
"That used to mean something."
A beat passed. I could practically hear Dante swallowing.
The boss moved then—his footsteps sharp, final. "Clean up your end. Fast. You don't want me back here before Friday."
"Yes, boss."
The door shut a moment later. Then again.
They had both left and the silence returned—but it didn't feel like relief. Not yet.
I waited five seconds. Ten. Twenty.
Only then did I dare move.
Slowly, stiffly, I crawled out from under the desk. My knees cracked. My palms were clammy. My breathing, shaky.
That voice.
I hadn't seen him. Not even a glimpse of his shoes. But I'd know that voice anywhere. It was him. The man from the lounge. The one with the quiet menace in his eyes, the one who made my skin prickle without even touching me.
He wasn't just a presence. He was the presence. The real boss.
I slipped out of the office, footsteps light, almost soundless. The hallway felt colder now. Or maybe I was just shaken.
When I reached the bar, Amber was wiping down the counter with tired, mechanical swipes. Lola was already zipping up her hoodie near the coat rack.
"Where were you?" Amber asked, glancing up.
"Storage room," I lied smoothly. "Got locked in. Damn thing jammed again."
Lola raised an eyebrow. "You need to stop hanging out in weird places."
"Maybe I like the quiet."
Amber gave me a look. "You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I think I'm just sleep-deprived," I said, grabbing my bag.
Lola yawned. "We closing or what? I've got Netflix waiting."
"Lights," Amber muttered, flicking the switches. "You locking the back?"
"I'll get it," I offered quickly, needing a few extra seconds to pull myself together.
By the time we all stepped into the cool night air, my mind was spinning. I barely registered Lola's parting joke or Amber's half-hearted wave.
The apartment was quiet when I returned. The only sound was the low hum of the TV, playing a late-night rerun to no one. Caleb was sprawled on the couch, head tilted back, mouth slightly open, remote still in hand.
I smiled softly, despite the weight in my chest. Walking over, I turned off the TV and shook his shoulder gently.
"Hey, sleepyhead. Bed time."
He groaned in response, eyes fluttering. "Mmph. What time is it?"
"Late," I whispered, guiding him up. "Come on."
He didn't resist. Just stumbled toward his room, still half-asleep.
In the kitchen, I opened the fridge and pulled out the bowl of fruit salad I'd saved. I leaned against the counter, eating one slow bite at a time.
The voices replayed in my head.
You were sloppy last month.
Do I need to remind you what happened in Prague?
That used to mean something.
This wasn't just club business. This was real, organized, dangerous business. And that man—whoever he really was—was the one calling all the shots.
Why was he there tonight? Why not send someone else? Unless…
Unless whatever was going on needed his personal attention.
I chewed on a strawberry, not tasting it. The voice—yes, it was the same. The man from the VIP lounge. The man who came to my rescue. But the way Dante responded to him… it wasn't just respect. It was fear wrapped in professionalism.
He's the real boss, I thought. Not Dante. That man.
I had to inform Captain Ford first thing in the morning. I sent him a text stating that I had some information for him.
Still, something in me pulled the thought back. Like I didn't want to believe it yet. Like naming him would make it all too real.
I set the empty bowl in the sink, rinsed it out, and glanced at the clock. Almost 4 a.m.
I had an outing with the gang later today. I needed rest. I needed to clear my head.
But that voice… it wouldn't let go.
The next morning, I woke up to the pale sunlight slicing through the curtains and the mouthwatering scent of toast and frying eggs drifting in from the kitchen. My stomach rumbled before my brain even fully kicked in.
"Morning, sleepyhead," Caleb called from the doorway, spatula in hand. His hair was still mussed from sleep, and he wore last night's T-shirt and shorts. He looked ridiculously domestic in the early light.
I rubbed my eyes. "That smells amazing."
He grinned. "Thought you could use a good breakfast." He set a plate on the nightstand: two perfectly browned slices of toast, butter melting into them, and a heap of fluffy scrambled eggs. My favorite.
Before I could dig in, my phone buzzed in my hand. I squinted at the screen: a missed call from Captain Ford, ten minutes ago. My pulse spiked.
"Shit," I whispered, tapping to call him back.
After two rings, Ford's voice crackled through. "Good morning, Amelia? How's it going at the bar? What's the update?"
I sat up, balancing my plate on my lap. "Good morning, Captain. Last night I overheard Dante talking to someone—definitely the real boss. I don't know who he is yet—" I lied—" but this is guy calls all the shots."
There was a long pause. Then Ford's tone turned clipped. "You overheard? Good work. Keep digging—but be careful. If they catch wind you're listening in, they'll bury every trace of evidence… and you."
"Understood." I forced a calm I didn't feel.
"You've got this. I'll check in later." He hung up before I could say anything else.
I set the phone aside with my toast. Caleb watched me, concern flickering across his face.
"Captain Ford?" he asked.
"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "He wants updates on club intel. I—" I shrugged, trying to smile. "—I've got a lead."
He stepped around the bed and ruffled my hair like I was a kid. "Just don't get in over your head."
"I won't. I Promise."
After breakfast, Caleb did the dishes. His phone buzzed on the kitchen counter just as he was drying the last plate. He glanced at the screen and answered with a chuckle.
"Malik," he said, putting it on speaker. "Let me guess—you're calling to make sure I didn't flake on brunch."
Malik's voice crackled through, full of amusement. "Exactly. And to make sure Amelia showed up too. No excuses."
I raised a brow from where I was sipping my juice. "Wow. You didn't trust us?"
"I trusted Caleb," Malik shot back. "You? Not so much. You usually get lost in your head and forget the time."
"Fair," I mumbled, and Caleb laughed.
"Alright, alright," he said. "We'll be there. I'll make sure she's dressed and out the door."
After hanging up, he turned to me with a playful smirk. "You heard the man. Go get ready before he drives here to drag us out."
—
I pulled on a soft pink sundress that hit mid-thigh with a fluttering hem and a subtle slit. It was simple but flattering, hugging my curves just enough. I slipped into a pair of nude heels—not too high, just enough to elevate the look—and left my hair down, letting it fall in soft waves over my shoulders.
Caleb walked in, tugging down the hem of a fitted black shirt over dark jeans. His collarbone peeked through the open top button. He looked—frustratingly—good.
He gave me a once-over and whistled. "Are we even going to the same place? You look like you are about to shut the place down."
I rolled my eyes, grinning. "Shut up. You cleaned up nice yourself. Honestly, if you weren't so insufferable you'd have had a girlfriend by now."
He shrugged with mock modesty. "My charm's too potent. It scares people."
I snorted, grabbing my purse. "Let's go before Malik has a heart attack."
—
The rooftop restaurant buzzed with sunlight and soft music. Malik, Theo, and Bree were already at a corner table, their laughter floating over the hum of other brunch-goers.
"There they are!" Bree waved us over with both arms. "Finally."
"Relax," I said, sliding into the seat beside her. "We aren't even that late."
"You are always almost late," she teased.
"You look amazing," I said, eyeing her sleek braids and pastel green jumpsuit. Her beautiful caramel skin radiated in the sunlight.
Bree grinned. "Thanks! I had to look sharp—first week at the new job and they already tossed me into a team lead role."
"Seriously?" I blinked. "Already?"
"Yep. Tech startup life. It is chaotic, but I kind of love it."
Caleb leaned forward. "Look at you. CEO vibes incoming."
She laughed, lifting her mimosa. "From your lips to God's ears."
Malik jumped in. "Meanwhile, I'm trying to survive grad school and figure out how I can drop out without disappointing my ancestors."
We all laughed, the conversation rolling into easy jokes, random side stories, and teasing jabs.
I leaned back, sipping my drink, letting the sound of their voices blur a little. My gaze drifted out over the skyline, sunlight glittering on glass windows and tree-lined streets below.
And just like that, my mind slipped away.
I thought of Bree—how we'd met a year after I moved in with Caleb, back in that crumbling old apartment downtown. She had been a sophomore then, vibrant, curious, always buzzing with ideas. I hadn't expected us to click, but she had this effortless way of making people feel safe. Seen. I needed that.
Malik had been her friend from college. We bonded over our mutual love for terrible action movies and our equal hatred for cold pizza.
And Theo… we met two years ago at the station. He was loud, sarcastic, always in trouble for questioning orders. We became friends instantly, mostly bonding over our shared frustration with Captain Ford's micromanaging. That man could kill a mood faster than a gunshot.
Together, we just… clicked. A little mismatched, a little chaotic. But it worked.
I didn't realize how deep in thought I had gone until Bree nudged me with her elbow.
"Earth to Amelia," she said, grinning. "You keep zoning out. You good?"
I blinked, cheeks warming. "Yeah. Sorry. Just… thinking."
"Don't," she said, sliding a mimosa toward me. "We were here to brunch, not brood."
I cleared my throat and forced a smile at Bree. "Sorry for zoning out like that. You know me—my brain sometimes just took off without telling me."
She laughed, nudging my arm. "It's cool. But hey, enough brooding. We were here to have fun."
Malik's grin widened as he raised his glass. "Exactly. So, who is ready to dance?"
Before I could protest, Bree grabbed my hand and pulled me up. "Come on, you aren't getting out of it that easy."
I tried to resist, but the infectious energy of the group swept me away. The beat of the music pulsed through the rooftop, warm and inviting. I could feel it in my bones, a slow pull urging me to move.
Theo grinned. "Look at her go. Amelia the reluctant dancer."
I rolled my eyes but let myself be dragged to the center of the group. The air wrapped around my bare shoulders as I took a hesitant step, then another.
I was trying—not really bad—but definitely not graceful.
A waiter rushed past me, distracted by a dropped tray, and bumped into me hard enough to knock my drink out of my hand.
The cold liquid spilled on my dress, my breasts to be precise. Wet and sticky, soaking the fabric right where it clung to my skin.
"Oh no," I muttered.
"Are you okay?" Bree asked
I gave a weak smile and shook my head. "I just need to get cleaned up."
Without waiting for a reply, I slipped away toward the bathroom.
There was a sign on the door;
"OUT OF ORDER, PLEASE USE THE BATHROOM ON THE FLOOR BELOW"
"Great. That's just great." I sighed.
I started towards the elevator wanting to get to the bathroom on the floor below but as I neared the elevator doors, my heart skipped and then slammed against my ribs.
There he was, standing in the elevator.
The man—the one who made my stomach flip and my thoughts scatter every time he looked my way.
I froze, my mind screaming at me to turn around, to abort the elevator ride altogether.
But stepping back now? That would be weird. Awkward beyond words.
I swallowed hard, forcing my legs to move forward as the elevator doors started to close.
"Hold the doors please." I called out.
He did.
I stepped in and immediately regretted the move.
"Hi," I blurted out, my voice barely steady.
His eyes lifted, locking on me with that unnerving intensity.
"Hi, Mel," he said calmly, like he had been waiting for me.
I blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, wait—how did you know my name?"
He smirked, nodding toward my soaked chest. "Your little name tag from yesterday."
"Oh. Right," I said, my cheeks flaring hotter. "About last night, thanks for helping me out of that situation."
"You're welcome," he replied, his grey eyes flickering over me again, lingering longer than comfort allowed.
I swallowed hard, feeling a strange heat spread through me, like my knees might give out.
Suddenly, I blurted, "Umm… I think you saw that little disaster back there. I, uh, bumped into the waiter. I'm a horrible dancer."
A low chuckle rumbled from him. "I wouldn't say it was horrible. I liked the little dance."
I felt my face flush deeper. So he was watching me? I bit my lip to stop myself from smiling.
Before I could say anything else, his phone buzzed sharply. He glanced down, then stepped off the elevator as the doors slid open.
His voice dropped into something serious as he answered, and I was left alone in the small space, my heart still racing.
I rode down, the silence pressing against me like a weight.
At the bathroom, I locked the door behind me and stood by the sink, running cold water over my hands. I grabbed some paper towels and tried to blot the sticky drink from my dress.
As I dried my hands with the noisy hand dryer, my mind kept replaying the elevator moment— and that voice I had overheard earlier—I was almost certain it had been his.
Part of me wanted to deny it, to pretend I was imagining things.
But deep down, my heart whispered a different story. I knew it was him.
I took a deep breath, wiped the last damp spots from my dress, and headed back to my friends upstairs. We ate, drank and talked about everything and nothing.
Later, after we decided to leave, the teasing started.
"who was that sexy hunk that you got in the elevator with?" Bree asked with a smirk.
"Yeah, Amelia. We all saw how he was looking at you" Theo added.
"I don't know him, he's just some guy" I lied. Technically not a lie though.
"Did you at least get this guy's number?" Malik said.
"nope" I said dryly.
I didn't even get his name, I thought.
"Damn girl. Why? That man was hot as hell." Bree said. "When last did you get laid?" she added
I rolled my eyes and shook my head. They all laughed.
"I'm always busy with work. I don't have time for that stuff" I said, defensively.
"Yeah, yeah. We know." Theo said jokingly.
We all said our goodbyes and headed our different directions.
Back home, as Caleb and I stepped into the apartment, an envelope on the doorstep caught my eye. It had my name scrawled across it.
Caleb bent down and picked it up and carefully handed it to me.
My heart skipped.
I tore it open and pulled out a note.
The words were simple, but chilling:
"I know what they did. I will get my revenge."
Inside, a gummy wrapper fell out.
Caleb's eyes narrowed as he looked up at me.
"What the hell is that?"
I was frozen. I couldn't speak.
He took the note from my hand and read it aloud.
"What does this mean? Have you gotten anything like this before?"
I nodded slowly. "A few days ago."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
The question hung heavy between us.
"I didn't want to bother you," I answered.
He sighed, frustration and concern mixing in his eyes. I saw that he was hurt. He was my oldest friend, practically my older brother. He knew everything about me, past and present. He had been there for me through the highs and lows and yet I didn't want to "bother" him.
"We should have talked about it. We could have started an investigation." He sighed again.
"It's not that serious, okay? I'm fine"
"Amelia, someone is threatening you. This is serious. I'm going to have a word with the head of security of this damned place tomorrow morning. Goodnight." He walked away to his room.
We didn't say much after that, the weight settling over us as we got ready for bed.
The night felt colder somehow, the shadows longer.
And I couldn't shake the feeling that things were about to get a lot more dangerous.