Chapter 5

Scarlett’s POV

My phone buzzed and I check. A message from Mr. Woods. “In my office, two minutes”. I sigh muttered a frantic excuse to a confused Teal, and sprinted back to the elevators.

The elevator door finally slid open at the top floor. I crept toward my desk, peeked into his office, and froze. I smoothed down my pencil skirt, and braced for impact. Two sharp knocks. The door swung wide open, revealing a red-faced.

He turned on his heel, and stalked back into the room. I stepped inside, clicked the door shut, and planted my feet at a safe, defensive distance.

"You called for me?"

"I said two minutes, Jones. It has been six."

"I was grabbing a late lunch at the café. Five minutes away," I managed, keeping my voice leveled.

"You always have a slick excuse locked and loaded, don't you? Maybe you should quit and start your own firm so you can put that big mouth of yours to better use."

"My apologies, sir," I murmured, dipping my head in a shallow, bitter bow.

"Save it. Answer me this, why the fuck didn't you notify me about Charlotte having an appointment with me?"

Charlotte?

"You don't have a clue, do you?" he scoffed, his gaze narrowing into daggers.

"Sir..."

"Charlotte Parker set a direct appointment. No?" Each word dropped like a lead weight.

I blinked, paralyzed. He was losing his entire mind over a single missed name? He had a high-stakes investor call starting in minutes, and this was the hill he chose to detonate on?

"Jones, are you even in this room?" Without warning, he swept his arm across the mahogany desk.

A heavy stack of bound files went airborne, crashing hard against my arm before scattering across the floorboards in a chaotic mess.

"I'm sorry, sir. My mistake."

"Then explain to me..." His voice dropped an octave, plunging into a chilling, whisper that terrified me far more than his shouting ever could. "...why you deliberately left Charlotte off my schedule."

I opened my mouth to defend myself, but before a single word could slip past my lips, the heavy oak office doors violently banged wide open.

A breathless, white-faced security guard stumbled into the room, clutching a sleek black tablet in a white-knuckled grip.

"Mr. Woods... sir, you need to see this right now," the guard stammered, his eyes darting frantically between Simon and me.

“The building's main security feed just flagged an unauthorized breach on the private executive floor. Someone broke in... they left something right outside Miss Jones office."

His glacial eyes locked dead onto mine. "What kind of something?"

The guard swallowed hard, his voice trembling as he looked straight at me.

"A box wrapped in green tape. And security says it has your secretary's name written all over it in what looks like real blood."

Simon slowly turned his head away from the guard, his towering frame shifting as he locked his predatory gaze back onto me. The lethal, icy quiet radiating off him was terrifying.

"Care to explain, Jones?" His voice low, dangerous purr, every syllable coated in venom.

"I—" My voice cracked, entirely betraying me. Panic clawed at my throat, choking off any lie I tried to spin.

Simon didn't take his eyes off me. He didn't blink. He just stepped around his demolished desk, closing the distance between us with slow, deliberate strides like a panther stalking a cornered prey.

My knees buckled. What the actual hell is going on here? Mr. Woods stopped dead right in front of me, towering over my trembling frame.

His jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek, his dark eyes narrowing into razor-sharp slits as the horrific realization finally hit him.

He looked down at me, his expression shifting from blind fury to something infinitely darker, more calculating, and entirely unreadable.

“I have a very large debt with them,” I muttered pressing lips together.

"Very large debts, Jones?," He whispered, his breath brushing against my forehead as he leaned in close enough to hear my teeth chattering.

“Care to tell me why a low-level secretary in my firm is mixed up with criminals.. and why they think bringing that to my company would fit that shit?”

The silence in the office was so absolute I could hear the frantic pounding of my own pulse hammering in my ears.

"I asked you a goddamn question, Scarlett," A growl snapped me back, his hand shooting out to grip my wrist before I could retreat. His fingers were iron bands, burning hot against my skin.

“Sir you’re hurting me!" I snapped, a sudden surge of desperate adrenaline overriding my terror. I yanked my arm back, glaring up at him with every ounce of defiance I had left.

“The debt is mine, and I'll deal with it before midnight!”

He let out a cold, humorless laugh that didn't reach his eyes at all. "Deal with it? How? The change in your pocket? Get back to your desk," He commanded, turning his back on me as he walked toward the floor-to-ceiling glass windows overlooking the Manhattan skyline.

“We have an investor meeting in ten minutes. If one file is out of place when you hand them to me, I'll personally hand you over to them myself."

I didn't need to be told twice. I bolted for the door, slamming it shut behind me as I collapsed into my desk chair.

Six hours. I had six hours left before midnight. Six hours, before I clock out of my corporate hell and step straight into the neon-lit jaws of Velvet Club.

And as easy as that sounds, it’s hell. You know that feeling of doing something you never wanted to do?

That terrifying stuff you feel? That’s exactly what I feel anytime I set my feet inside velvet club. And suddenly this night shift seems the hardiest of all after Vipers performance.

My phone receive a notification making my heart sink a little. A video. Clicking play a woman crying seating on a chair tied display in the video and then a voice behind the camera.

“Getting crimson stained is the only way debtors who refuse to pay walk out,”

And just like that, three bullet were shot and the woman head tilted, dead on the chair as blood stained her cloth.

My phone fell from the bed immediately. A tear slip out of my eyes.