8. Still Taiwanese

Marissa POV

My stomach felt like it was eating itself. After the fifth rejection, I had finally given up on the corporate crawl and ducked into a small, dimly lit restaurant three blocks away from the Grand. I didn't care about the menu prices....I just needed something to stop the shaking in my hands.

I ordered a plate of spicy pasta and a glass of red wine, scrolling through my call logs with a bitter scowl. When the food arrived, I inhaled it, the heat of the chili finally brought some color back to my face. I was halfway through my second glass of wine when I finally picked up the phone to call the only person who could handle me at my worst.

"Today is officially the most terrible day of my life!" I yapped into the phone the second she picked it up. "Five rejections, Hailey. Five! I am pretty sure the universe is trying to tell me to just give up and go into hiding."

"Sorry, babe. Don’t let the rejection get to you," Hailey’s voice crackled through the speaker. "I would have loved to come over and wallow with you, but my new talking stage just invited me to the club! You know, that one."

I paused, the spice of the pasta was still tingling on my tongue. I thought about the masked man, the way he’d looked at me like I was the only thing in the room, and how much I needed to forget the name 'Harrison' for a few hours.

"Club, you said? Hailey, I am all in!" I said with a sudden surge of adrenaline. "Hold up, hold up... let me pull up."

Just as I hung up, my phone started vibrating against my palm. I looked down. Ethan. I declined it. He called again. And again. By the fourth time, the buzzing was grating on my last nerve, vibrating through the table and making my wine glass tremor. I snapped the phone to my ear, my voice dripping with venom.

"What do you want, Ethan?! Stop disturbing me! I told you we are done for the day! Go bother your mistress and leave me out of it!" I yelled into the receiver before slamming it shut and blocking the number for the night. I didn't care what he had to say; I had a life to reclaim.

The transformation took hours. We hit the shops first, picking out pieces that felt more like armor than clothes, then headed back home to put on those outfits and slay.

Hailey looked like a dark feminine dream. She was wearing a tight, chocolate-brown armless gown that left absolutely nothing to the imagination.

Her cleavage was out, and she had slung a silver spike belt low on her hips that glinted under the lights. With her dark makeup and high boots, she looked lethal.

I went for a more rebellious vibe. I wore a dangerously short black skirt with a heavy belt, a cropped jacket top, and high boots that made me feel six feet tall. I loaded my fingers with silver rings—every single one of them to cover the pale, empty skin where my wedding band used to sit.

When we pulled up to The Vault, the security guards recognized us instantly. They didn't even check our IDs; they just moved the velvet rope with a respectful nod and ushered us into the thumping, red lit heart of the club.

We headed straight for the bar. My stomach did a somersault of pure embarrassment the second I saw him—the hot bartender. I remembered staring at him like a starving woman last time and confidently calling him Japanese.

"Hey," I said, trying to project a confidence I didn't feel. "Back for round two."

He looked at me, a glimmer of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Ah, the girl with the ring in her pocket," he teased, sliding a glass toward me. "I am Yukon, by the way. And just for the record... still Taiwanese."

"I know, I know! God, don't remind me," I groaned, hiding my face in my ring clad hands while Hailey laughed.

I moved away from the bar to save the last of my dignity, and that’s when I saw him. A guy was leaning against a pillar, looking like he’d just stepped off a high-fashion runway. He had light blonde hair, a silver septum ring, and sleeves of tattoos. His eyebrows were dyed blonde, and he wore a tight shirt with baggy pants and heavy silver chains.

He approached me with a smirk. "You look like you need a distraction."

"I really do," I laughed. He was hot—genuinely compatible vibes and a distraction I desperately craved.

"I'm Elon," he said, his voice smooth and low.

We talked for a few minutes before he led me to the dancefloor. The music was heavy and slow, a rhythmic pulse that matched the thumping in my chest. Elon moved in close, his hands finding my waist before sliding down to my hips and thighs. He was bold, his touch claiming more and more space as the room blurred into a haze of red light and expensive perfume. I let my head fall back, finally feeling the stress of the day melt away.

Until the air suddenly turned freezing.

In a split second, a massive, possessive grip clamped onto my waist. It wasn't a dance move; it was a total snatch. I was yanked backward with enough force to make me gasp, my back hitting a chest that felt like a marble wall.

Elon was shoved back, his eyes widening in pure shock and fear.

I spun around in the stranger’s arms, ready to snap at whoever had ruined the moment, but the words died in my throat. Towering over me in a black suit that cost more than my apartment was the man from the shadows. He was wearing it again.....the shimmering, cold silver mask. His piercing blue eyes were narrowed, glaring down at me with a terrifying, territorial rage.

"Mine," he growled.

The word wasn't just spoken, it was a command that vibrated through my bones, making the rest of the world vanish.