Hell no!
That was not the face I expected to see, as I looked up to see the owner of the voice.
And for a split second, I almost forgot how to breathe.
The man standing before me didn't look like someone who belonged in my world. He looked different. Like he'd just walked out of one of those glossy magazine covers I usually despised. His hair was slightly messy in that intentional way men think looks effortless. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing the veins along his forearms, and his shirt fit him so well it almost looked sinful.
And those eyes, those eyes were so warm and kind.The sort of eyes that could melt an ice cold heart if he stared long enough.
I blinked, forcing myself to remember where I was. I refused to take the hand he'd stretched towards me.
Instead, I stood abruptly, straightened my clothes, and picked up my bag, quickly arranging the items that fell off. "Who are you," I asked sharply, "and what the hell are you doing here?"
He looked startled at my tone but quickly recovered, offering a polite smile. "My apologies, Miss Vale. I didn't mean to frighten you." His voice was calm, deep, and annoyingly pleasant. "I've been trying to reach you for months. I'm Ethan Cole, investigative journalist with The City Chronicle."
He handed me a business card, and I glanced at it briefly just enough to read his name before lifting my eyes to study him properly.
"Investigative journalist," I repeated slowly, my voice filled with dry amusement. "You're braver than you look if you actually thought ambushing me in my elevator was a smart move."
"I wasn't—" he began, but I raised a hand to stop him.
"This," I gestured around, "isn't the entrance to my company, and if you haven't been able to get through to me yet, it's because you're not worth my time."
He scratched the back of his neck, his cheeks slightly turned pink. "I know this isn't proper," he said quickly, "but I had to try. I've been looking for an opportunity to speak with you. It's about something very important—"
I yawned loudly and turned away from the elevator doors. "Spare me the details, Mr. Cole. You're boring me already incase you haven't noticed. If you haven't gotten an interview by now, that's your problem, not mine. Maybe instead of staking out my building, you could use that time to properly improve your pitch."
He opened his mouth to say something, but I was already walking away. My driver hurried forward, opening the car door.
"Have a good day, Miss Vale," Ethan called after me.
I slid into the seat without replying, but just as the car began to move, I glanced out the tinted window. He was still standing there, smiling faintly as if he knew something I didn't.
Damn it. He was cute.
I looked away quickly, reminding myself that I don't do me who looked like walking temptations.
"Take me to the club," I told my driver.
He nodded and bowed slightly.
So a little secret between us I own 'The Crimson house'. Yes, it's the most exclusive club in the city. But that's strictly off the record. No one knows that, except a few people. So I prefer to stay behind the scenes.
We arrived twenty minutes later, and the neon sign of the Crimson house glowed like blood against the dark sky. The bass of the music thudded faintly through the walls even from outside. My heels clicked on the marble floor as I entered, and instantly, all eyes turned towards me.
As usual.
The manager, Cassian, spotted me almost immediately. He was standing near the bar, wiping his hands with a white towel. When he saw me, he grinned infuriatingly and walked over.
"Good evening, boss," he said cheerfully. "It's been a while."
I rolled my eyes. "How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that? It sounds masculine and it makes me feel like I'm running a cartel."
He chuckled, leaning one arm casually against the table. "Well, you do run things with an iron hand, and let's be honest 'boss' suits you more. Remember, you've got that 'Ice Queen' reputation to maintain."
I smirked. "Touché."
He laughed. "So, what brings you down here tonight? Are you checking on your empire again?"
"Something like that," I said, sitting at my usual corner. Same old business. I'm just making sure you haven't run this place into the ground while charming your way through half the entire female staff."
Cassian pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense. "Ouch boss. You know I never mix business with pleasure."
I arched my brow. "Oh Please Cassian, You mix everything with pleasure."
He grinned wider and took a seat beside me, uninvited.
"I can't remember asking you to sit dowm," I said dryly.
He ignored me completely and tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch lingered just long enough to make me roll my eyes.
"Have I ever told you," he said softly, "that you've got the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen?"
I tilted my head toward him, resting my elbow on the table. "Yes, Cassian. You have. About a million times already. Every day, every hour, every minute."
He chuckled. "Can you blame me though? I just can't help myself"
"You're so sweet-tongued," I said, smirking. "That's why the women can't get enough of you."
He stood up, still smiling. "That's my superpower. That, and the reason you trust me enough to run this place."
I waved a dismissive hand. "Okay superhero. Go make yourself useful, I'm starving."
Cassian gave a playful bow. "Yes, ma'am." Then he disappeared into the kitchen.
I took out my laptop, set it on the table and opened it. A dozen unread emails stared at me. I sighed and began replying, and for a while, the low hum of music and clinking glasses felt almost soothing.
Then the peace shattered.
Two men stumbled toward my table drunk, loud, and irritatingly confident.
"Hey there," one of them slurred, pulling out the chair across from me before I could object. His friend stood behind him like some kind of bodyguard. "Do you mind if I join you?"
"Yes I do," I said, without looking up.
He laughed. "Oh, come on, don't be like that. Why's a beautiful woman like you sitting here all alone?"
"Maybe that's because I prefer my own company," I said flatly, typing another sentence.
He leaned forward, his voice dropping. "Maybe I could change your mind."
"Or," I said sweetly, "you could fuck off and look for someone else to annoy."
The smile on his face vanished, as he slammed my laptop shut, trapping my fingers in the process.
His friend laughed. "She's a feisty one, huh?"
The first one sneered. "You should've been nice, bitch. I was just trying to talk to you."
I inhaled slowly. Then I smiled. "You're right," I said softly. "My bad. Come closer please."
He hesitated but did as I said, leaning in with a smug grin.
I whispered something so quietly only he could hear.
Then his reaction was instant.
He screamed loudly. It was a raw, blood-curdling sound that cut through the music. He clawed at his arms, shouting about spiders crawling all over him. His friend froze, his face pale, as the man ripped off his shirt and bolted toward the door, still screaming.
The crowd parted in panic, whispers filling the air. The other man ran after him, stumbling.
Cassian burst out of the kitchen just in time to see the chaos. "What the hell just happened?" he asked, staring at me. "And what did you do this time?"
I smiled innocently and took a sip from the glass of wine the waiter had just brought. "Nothing," I said smoothly. "I just decided to teach someone a valuable lesson about manners."
Cassian sighed, rubbing his temples. "You can't keep hexing people in my club, boss."
"It's my club," I corrected, setting my glass down. "And technically, I can do whatever I want."
He shook his head, a half-smile tugging at his lips. "You know you're impossible."
I smirked. "Yeah, that's what everyone says."
He sighed, muttered something and headed back into the kitchen, but I called out. "Cassian, when are the bodies coming in?".