Elena's shift ended with shaky hands and a head full of questions. She pulled off her apron and slipped into the cool evening air, desperate to shake off Alexander's unsettling presence. He had paid for her shift time just to talk to her.The billionaire had left the café an hour ago, but the weight of their conversation clung to her.
She hugged her thin jacket tighter around herself, weaving through the crowd on the street. Her mind was still replaying the way he looked at her, steady, as if she were already his.
"Elena Hayes."
The voice came from nowhere. Sharp, feminine and chilling.
Elena froze. A woman stepped out from the shadow of a sleek black car parked at the curb. She was stunning, too stunning, the kind of beauty that made people stop mid-step. Long red dress, heels clicking like weapons, hair smooth as silk. But her eyes, icy and calculating, were fixed on Elena like a blade pressed to her throat.
"You're the girl," the woman said slowly, as if tasting the words. "The little waitress he bothered to remember."
Elena blinked, heart hammering. "Excuse me?"
The woman smiled thinly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Alexander King. He said your name at the party. I was there. And now here you are."
Before Elena could respond, the car door opened, and a man climbed out. Older, broad-shouldered, his suit darker than night. His presence was heavier than the woman's beauty, power radiated off him, quiet but suffocating.
"Vivian," the man said, his voice calm, almost lazy. "Don't frighten the poor thing. She doesn't know what she's wandered into."
Vivian. The name sank into Elena's chest like ice.
The woman smiled wider. "Oh, but she will."
The man turned his gaze on Elena. Unlike Vivian's sharpness, his eyes held something colder, interest. The kind of interest predators gave prey.
"Tell me, Miss Hayes," he said, rolling her name like he'd known it forever. "Did Alexander ever mention me?"
Elena shook her head quickly. "I—I don't know who you are."
"Good." He stepped closer, his polished shoes gleaming under the streetlight. "Then allow me to introduce myself. Adrian Holt. Business rival. Longtime… opponent of your new friend."
Her throat went dry. "I'm not—he's not—"
"Save it." Adrian cut her off with a small smile. "King doesn't remember names. He doesn't chase women. Unless they matter." His gaze sharpened. "And if you matter to him, then you matter to me."
Vivian leaned close to Elena's ear, her perfume heavy and suffocating. "He was mine first. Don't forget that."
Elena stumbled back, pulse racing, but before she could speak, Adrian tapped Vivian's arm. "That's enough. We've made our point."
They both slipped back into the car, leaving Elena frozen on the sidewalk as the engine roared to life.
The car sped away, but their words stayed behind.
"If you matter to him, then you matter to me."
Elena wrapped her arms around herself, trembling. She wanted to believe she was imagining things. But deep down, she knew whatever Alexander King was dragging her into, it wasn't just wealth and mystery. It was danger.
Elena barely remembered how she got home. Her legs moved on their own, but her mind stayed stuck on that sharp voice, those piercing eyes, the man's chilling calm.
Vivian and Adrian. Both speaking Alexander's name as if it were poison and power all at once.
She sat on the edge of her bed, fingers twisting in her lap. Her apartment felt even smaller tonight, walls pressing in on her. For the first time in a long time, she wished she had someone to call.
Her phone buzzed. It was an unknown number.
Her stomach flipped. For a heartbeat she thought it might be Vivian or worse, Adrian. Slowly, she picked it up.
"Elena."
His voice was smooth and steady. Unmistakable.
"Alexander?" she whispered.
"You sound frightened," he said, not asking but stating.
Elena swallowed. "Why do you—how do you even have my number?"
"When I want something, I find a way." Then, softer: "What happened?"
The dam broke. "Two people. A woman and a man. They knew my name. They said they knew you. The woman, Vivian, said you were hers first. And the man, Adrian Holt. He called himself your rival."
The silence on the line was heavy, stretching. When Alexander finally spoke, his tone was lower and colder.
"Adrian." He almost spat the name. "And Vivian. Of course."
Elena's chest tightened. "You know them?"
"I know them too well." His voice hardened. "Listen to me carefully. If they approach you again, don't bother speaking to them. Don't believe anything they say. And don't be afraid."
Her brows knitted. "Don't be afraid? That's exactly what I feel now."
"No," Alexander said firmly. "Being afraid makes you prey. And Adrian loves prey."
Elena pressed her lips together. She hated how her hands shook. Hated how calm his voice made her want to trust him.
"Why me?" she asked suddenly. "Why are they interested in me? I'm nobody."
There was a pause on the line. When he answered, his words were careful, almost deliberate.
"You're not nobody. Not to me."
Her breath caught. Before she could respond, the line went dead.
Far across the city, Vivian swirled her glass of wine in Adrian's penthouse, eyes glittering with satisfaction.
"She's nothing," Vivian scoffed. "Some poor little thing working in a café. I could crush her with one hand."
Adrian leaned back in his chair, amusement flickering across his sharp features. "That's exactly why she's dangerous."
Vivian frowned. "Dangerous? Don't be ridiculous. She's no threat to me."
"Not to you," Adrian said smoothly. "But to him. Alexander King doesn't look twice at women like her. The fact that he has… that makes her leverage. And leverage, my dear, is power."
Vivian slammed her glass down. "Leverage? I don't care about leverage. I care about him. Alexander was mine. Mine. I gave him years. I gave him everything. And now he's chasing a girl who doesn't even own a proper dress."
Adrian smirked. "Then use that jealousy. Play your part. Alexander's heart—if he even has one—was never yours. But his empire?" His smile turned sharp. "That, we can take."
Vivian's eyes burned with bitter rage. She thought of Elena, the nervous way she looked, the way Alexander had spoken her name. The waitress didn't deserve him. If Adrian wanted to use her anger, fine. But she wanted blood.
She leaned forward, voice low and venomous. "Then let me handle her. Let me show her what it means to step into my world."
Adrian raised his glass. "By all means. Just remember, don't kill the pawn before we've used it."
Vivian smiled coldly. "Oh I won't. Not yet. But she'll wish she never met him."