Chapter Five

Friday Night (Greg’s POV)

I always loved to ease off stress after work, and I did my best at just one place—the club. Yet tonight, something felt different. My pulse was already faster than usual, though the office day had been quite hectic and intense.

“I’ll be out early today. Put a call across to Bret to come pick me up at 6,” I told Hazel, my personal assistant.

“Get the rest of the details of the pitch across to my email address,” I continued. “Clear your desk. We’ll continue with the rest of the work by Monday. If anything comes up, handle it. If you can’t, let it rest till next week. I won’t appreciate any distractions.” I instructed and signaled her to go.

“Understood, sir,” Hazel replied, walking out. The door slammed behind her, echoing in the office, unnervingly loud.

I was ambitious but often regarded as aggressive. I loved to separate work from pleasure—but tonight, the air felt charged, as if the mansion itself was watching me leave. I quickly closed my laptop, packed it into my backpack, grabbed my navy-blue suit, and hurried out.

My office was on the second floor of my father’s three-story mansion. I always preferred the stairs instead of the elevator—exercise, yes—but also because I liked the way the creaking wooden steps gave a sense of rhythm, a heartbeat I could control.

“Good evening, sir,” Bret greeted, opening the passenger door.

I slid in, slammed the door, and we drove off. The night air felt heavier than usual. Probably because it was the weekend, and everyone was trying to get over a long week, the club was usually full and a bit louder on weekends.

As usual, Bret handed me the keys and left. I never made it home from the club the same night. It was always an adventure that I always looked forward to.

The club was loud, blue-lit, and full of energy. Ladies in lingerie moved around the room, while men drank and laughed loudly. But amidst the crowd, I noticed small anomalies—eyes that lingered too long, whispers that stopped abruptly when I glanced in their direction, fingers pointing at the Greg Hale of Hale Empire.

I ignored the stares and spotted a free seat near the bar and took it, keeping my senses alert.

“Welcome, sir. What would you like?” the bartender asked.

“A mix of vodka and champagne with lime and salt,” I replied, though my hand trembled slightly as I reached for the glass.

The first sip hit, familiar and comforting—but the comfort didn’t last. I noticed a shadow move at the edge of my vision, vanishing when I tried to focus.

Then I saw her.

A lady, slim and dressed in revealing lingerie, but with an aura that immediately unsettled me. She wasn’t just beautiful—something was calculating in her gaze, precise, as though she had been waiting.

I turned my seat and stared. She noticed me and returned the look. She gave a subtle sign to approach, but it was more than an invitation—it was a challenge.

I walked toward her, my instincts screaming caution, and grabbed her waist. We danced.

The dance got intense quickly, almost dangerously so. My instincts told me to stop, but something about her energy was magnetic—and terrifying. I leaned into her ear.

“Follow me to my car,” I whispered.

She didn’t respond, just watched, unreadable. I led her toward the exit anyway. The parking lot seemed unusually quiet for a Friday night. Every step sounded amplified, echoing off the walls, making me hyper-aware of shadows in corners.

I opened the back door of my car and ushered her in. My pulse was too fast, but not just from excitement. A strange feeling crawled up my spine.

“My name is Claire,” she said, breathless.

“That won’t be necessary tonight, let’s get into it,” I replied, though my tone carried a sharper edge than intended.

She hesitated for the briefest moment—a pause heavy with unspoken intentions. My gut tightened.

“Shhh,” I said, cutting her off, trying to maintain control.

Even as we began, I noticed details—a glint in her eyes, the way her hands moved deliberately—small signs that this wasn’t just another casual night. Something about her was different.

This is a life I’d lived for years, I could tell something was different, but I was too engrossed in the moment.

As I focused back on her, every touch carried tension, every glance had meaning beyond the surface. The thrill was there, yes—but so was the unease. The familiar rush from the drink was nothing compared to the adrenaline creeping through me now.