He knows who I am

ROSALIE

The heavy metal door slammed shut behind me with a loud bang. I stumbled out into the dimly lit hallway, my knees shaking so badly I thought I would fall right down onto the hard floor. My face was burning red, hot tears pushing against my eyelids, but I bit my lip hard and forced myself to stay standing.

I hurried down the long, carpeted corridor as fast as my weak legs could carry me. When I finally reached the back office area, Celine was standing by the door. The moment she saw me, her eyes went wide with pure panic. She rushed forward and grabbed my bare arms.

"Rosalie? Oh my god, what happened?" Celine whispered, her voice shaking. "Did something go wrong in there?"

"Celine, I messed up," I gasped, the hot tears finally spilling over my lashes and running down my cheeks. "I broke a rule. I really, really messed up."

"What rule?" Celine asked, her voice turning sharp and scared. "Tell me what happened!"

"His mask," I choked out, covering my face with my shaking hands. "We were... it was intense, and when he finished, my hands went up into his hair, and the mask just slipped right off his face. I saw him, Celine. I saw his face."

Celine gasped out loud, her hands flying up to cover her mouth. Her face turned pale. "Oh no. No, no, no. Rosalie, do you have any idea who those VIP clients are? Nolan warned you! They are powerful men, billionaires, dangerous people! If he is angry, he could ruin everything for us!"

"I am sorry! I didn't mean to!" I cried softly, shivering in the dim light. "It was an accident, I swear!"

Before Celine could say anything else, heavy footsteps echoed down the hall. We both turned our heads to see Nolan walking toward us.

"Rosalie, what happened?” Nolan said, his voice cold and low.

"Nolan, I am so, so sorry," I sobbed, stepping forward and shaking my head. "It was a total accident. While he was finishing, my fingers got caught in his hair, and the mask slipped off. I saw his face for just one second, but I didn't mean to."

Nolan let out a long, heavy breath, rubbing the bridge of his nose like he had a terrible headache. He looked around the hallway to make sure nobody else was listening, then looked back down at me.

"Listen to me, Rosalie," Nolan said, his voice dead serious. "If that man wanted to destroy you right now, he could snap his fingers and make you disappear. He is one of our most important, most dangerous guests. Did you hear his name?"

"No," I whispered, wiping my wet face with my sleeve. "I don't know who he is. I only saw his face."

"Good," Nolan muttered, shaking his head. "Keep it that way. Erase him from your memory. Never speak of his face to a single living soul, do you understand?"

"Yes! Yes, I understand!" I cried.

I swallowed hard, my heart hammering against my ribs, and asked the question that had been screaming inside my head. "Nolan... what about the money? Will I still get paid the fifteen thousand dollars? My sister... I need to pay for her hospital bills."

Nolan stared at me for a long, quiet moment. Then he gave a slow nod. "Yes. The client paid the club in full before he even stepped into that room. The money will be in your account tonight. But take your cash, take your clothes, and get out of here right now. And never come back."

The next morning, I checked my phone with shaking fingers, and there it was, the fifteen thousand dollars was sitting safely in my bank account. Without wasting a single second, I used part of the money to pay off the clinic arrears, settling every single debt that had been choking me. An ambulance arrived, and my little sister Zara was safely transferred back into a clean, bright hospital room where doctors and nurses could take proper care of her.

Sitting at my desk at the office, my mind drifted back to that dark VIP room. Without the mask hiding him, I remembered his features with terrifying clarity. He was not old or frightening like I had imagined a cruel billionaire would be. He was young, impossibly handsome, with sharp cheekbones, dark expressive brows, and a strong jawline. Why would someone like that wear a mask? Why did he look at me with such cold fury when I saw his face?

"Hey, Rosalie! Wake up!" my coworker whispered loudly, shaking my shoulder and snapping me out of my thoughts. "Look at the breakroom TV! Everyone is watching the news!"

I blinked, confused, and followed my coworkers into the small breakroom. A crowd of office workers stood huddled around the television mounted on the wall, their eyes wide with excitement. A female news anchor was speaking quickly, her voice full of breathless energy.

"Breaking news this afternoon," the news anchor announced, while photographs flashed across the screen. "Young tech and hospitality billionaire Elliot Sterling has arrived in the city today for a surprise visit. Sterling, who usually resides abroad, is currently touring our district to explore major corporate partnerships and investments."

My breath caught in my throat. My eyes glued themselves to the television screen as the camera changed angle to show a clear, crisp photograph of the man himself.

My entire body turned ice cold. Every drop of blood rushed away from my face.

It was him.

The exact same dark, piercing eyes. The same sharp face. The same perfectly shaped mouth I had kissed in the dark room. There was no black mask covering his features now.

The name appeared in bold white letters right beneath his photograph on the screen:

Elliot Sterling.

CEO and Owner of Sterling Hospitality Group.

The company name hit me like a physical blow. Sterling Hospitality Group owned the most expensive hotels, restaurants, resorts, and exclusive high-class clubs in the entire country, including the very club where I had been last night. He wasn't just a random VIP guest. He was the owner of the club. He was one of the richest, most powerful men in the whole country.

The news anchor continued talking, her voice echoing in my ringing ears. "Known for being intensely private, fiercely brilliant, and fiercely protective of his personal life, Mr. Sterling rarely makes public appearances. Associates describe him as a perfectionist who despises media attention and social gossip..."

My hands began to tremble. I remembered how rough he had been, how demanding, how hungry his kisses felt, and how furiously angry he became when his mask slipped. He was a billionaire who liked to hide in the shadows, and I had accidentally seen right through his disguise.

Suddenly, the elevator doors at the end of our office hallway chimed with a bright, cheerful ding.

Everyone in the office turned around instantly. Conversations stopped mid-sentence.

Footsteps echoed softly against the tiled floor. A group of senior executives in expensive suits walked out of the elevator, leading the way. And right in the middle of them walked Elliot Sterling.

He was dressed completely differently from the night before. He wore a flawless, expensive charcoal-gray tailored suit. A pair of sleek transparent designer glasses sat on the bridge of his nose, and his expression was completely calm, professional, and composed. He looked every bit the quiet, brilliant, untouchable billionaire he truly was.

My legs felt rooted to the carpet. I couldn't move an inch.

As Elliot walked down the aisle between our office desks, his gaze swept casually across the room. Then, his eyes locked directly onto mine.

Time seemed to freeze completely.

The polite, distant expression on his handsome face vanished in a single second. Instant, blinding recognition flashed across his dark eyes, followed quickly by a wave of hot anger and a complex emotion I couldn't even begin to name.

He stopped walking. His stride came to an abrupt halt right in front of my desk, the silence in the office stretching out like a tight rubber band about to snap.

He knew exactly who I was.