Aria

Sleep refused to come.

I lay on my bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the way his eyes had held me captive, the strange softness in his voice that didn’t match the man everyone feared. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw him—calm, unreadable, dangerous.

I turned on my side and grabbed my phone.

Silas answered on the second ring.

I told him everything. About the meeting. About the way the CEO had spoken to me. About how unnatural it felt.

There was a pause on the line, then his voice—smooth, reassuring, pressing.

“This is good, Aria. You need to get closer to him.”

My stomach tightened. “Closer? Silas… that’s impossible. People don’t get close to him.”

“You will,” he said firmly. “That’s the only way forward.”

The task he implied felt too big, too heavy. I didn’t argue further. After the call ended, I curled into myself, exhaustion finally pulling me under.I woke up to sunlight.

Sunday.

No office. No reports. No meetings.

For a moment, I smiled—genuine and light. The city felt quieter on Sundays, kinder somehow.

My phone rang again.

“Aria!” my friend chirped. “We’re going out tonight. No excuses.”

“A bar?” I asked lazily.

“Not just any bar. VIP lounge. Don’t ask how—connections,” she laughed.

I hesitated… then agreed.

Night came faster than I expected.

I stood in front of the mirror, barely recognizing myself.

A black mini skirt hugged my waist. A tank top dipped low, revealing just enough—my collarbone, my skin, the small dark mole that always caught attention. My hair fell in soft waves around my shoulders, framing my eyes that looked darker tonight.

My friends picked me up, whistling the moment I stepped out.

“You look unreal,” one of them said, looping her arm through mine.

The bar was loud, alive—music pulsing, bodies moving, alcohol heavy in the air. The VIP lounge was darker, richer, filled with people who laughed too easily and touched too freely.

We went straight to the counter.

“Wine,” I said. Then another.

And another.

I drank more than I should have. Every sip dulled the edge of my thoughtsThe glass was barely back on the counter when I felt it.

Eyes.

Not the casual kind—measuring, lingering. I shifted slightly, trying to ignore it, but the feeling didn’t fade. When I glanced to my left, I saw them.

Three men. Well-dressed. Confident. The kind who knew this place belonged to them as much as the air did. One of them smiled at me slowly, like he had already decided something.

“Rough night?” he asked, leaning closer than necessary.

I forced a polite smile. “Just… a long week.”

“Let me make it better,” he said, signaling the bartender. “Another wine for her.”

I hesitated. My friends were laughing nearby, distracted, caught up in their own conversations. The music was louder now, bass heavy, wrapping around my head.

“That’s not necessary,” I said softly.

He chuckled, clearly not used to hearing no. “Come on. It’s Sunday. Relax.”

Another man joined him, eyes openly tracing my face, my hair, the curve of my collarbone. I felt suddenly very aware of my skin, of how exposed I was.

“I’m fine,” I repeated, firmer this time.

The first man tilted his head, studying me. “You look familiar,” he said. “You work around here?”

My stomach tightened.

“No,” I replied quickly. “I’m just here with friends.”

He didn’t seem convinced. His gaze sharpened, curiosity turning into interest I didn’t want.

Before I could step back, one of my friends appeared at my side, slipping an arm around my waist. “Hey,” she said brightly, but there was warning in her tone. “We’re heading to the dance floor.”

The men exchanged looks. One of them smirked.

“Maybe later, then.”

We moved away, my heart beating too fast for the amount of wine I’d had.

On the dance floor, bodies pressed close, lights flashing. I tried to lose myself in the music, but my thoughts refused to cooperate. Every interaction felt too sharp, too close. I kept thinking about control—about distance—about how dangerous closeness could be.

And absurdly, impossibly… my mind drifted back to him.

The man who watched without touching.

Who spoke softly and unsettled me more than anyone here ever could.

I hugged my arms around myself, suddenly cold despite the heat.

I didn’t know why, but I felt it deep in my bones—

Tonight wasn’t over yet.