[4]

Soft neon lights shimmered across the club’s ceiling, their glow reflecting off the slick glass floor. Music pulsed through the air—heavy bass, laughter, and the clinking of glasses blending into one restless rhythm. For everyone else, it was energy and chaos. For me, it was just background noise—something distant, muffled beneath the sound of orders I had to take and drinks I had to deliver.

It was almost midnight. I’d meant to leave earlier, but my shift replacement still hadn’t shown up. I couldn’t just walk out and leave a full table waiting. Besides… I needed the extra money.

Though, honestly, one thought wouldn’t stop gnawing at me—How am I supposed to get home this late? It kept slipping into my head, distracting me until I nearly collided with a few customers or mixed up their orders entirely.

It wasn’t that I couldn’t afford a cab. That wasn’t the problem. The real issue was… I was staying at Aunt Margaret’s house now. I couldn’t exactly go back to my old apartment—my things were already moved out. Margaret had even been kind enough to pay off the rent I still owed, just so the transition would go smoothly.

“Leah, take this to Room 13,” Banderas called from the bar, sliding a tray toward me with a knowing grin. “VIP just came in.”

I knew that look. It was the kind that said you could have an easier life if you wanted. He’d hinted before that a girl like me could easily find someone rich enough to take care of everything. I had the “right” face, the “right” figure, he liked to say. But I wasn’t here for that.

I worked here to work, not to be anyone’s distraction.

“Just this order?” I asked flatly.

“Yeah,” he said, smirking. “But word of advice—there’s a man in that room who’s very easy on the eyes. You never know—”

“Thanks, Bernard.” I cut him off with a polite smile. “A customer’s waving at you. Maybe you should handle that first. We’ll talk later.”

He pouted for a second, then grinned and turned away as another group approached the bar.

I adjusted the thin black apron that barely covered my uniform—a short skirt and a low-cut blouse I’d never have chosen myself if the dress code hadn’t demanded it. Balancing the tray with both hands, I made my way toward the VIP lounge.

But the moment I stepped inside, my breath caught.

A dark suit. Broad shoulders. The sharp line of a jaw I knew too well.

No. No, this couldn’t be happening.

I lowered my gaze quickly, hoping to go unnoticed. But when I placed the glasses on the table and murmured, “Here you go, sir,” a deep, familiar voice froze me in place.

“Leah?”

My body went rigid. Slowly, I looked up. And there he was—Adrian Hale—his ocean-blue eyes cutting through the dim light. Gone was the calm civility from this morning; what stared back at me now was sharp, controlled anger.

“M–Mr. Hale…” The words stumbled out, barely audible.

He stared at me for a long, unbearable moment. His jaw tightened, the muscle ticking once. And before I could think of an excuse, his hand reached out—firm but not rough—closing around my wrist.

“We’re leaving.”

“L-leaving?” My heart lurched. “I still have a shift—”

“Now.”

His voice wasn’t raised, but there was something in the tone—quiet, commanding—that made defiance impossible.

“You know her, Adrian?” one of the three men in Room 13 asked.

I barely registered with them. Every bit of my focus was locked on Adrian.

“Yes,” he answered curtly. “Enjoy the party. I won’t be staying long.”

“Aren’t you going to introduce us to the pretty girl?”

I felt his stare sharpen like a blade as it landed on the man who spoke.

“Oh, come on,” they laughed, amused—but Adrian wasn’t. His grip on my wrist tightened instead, firm and unrelenting, pulling me toward the door despite the chuckles that followed us.

“M-Mr. Hale, please, let me go,” I pleaded softly. But he didn’t stop.

“Please. If I leave like this, I could get in trouble,” I tried again, my voice shaking.

Adrian exhaled sharply, frustration lacing the sound. “Take me to your manager, Leah.”

“B-but, sir—”

“No more reason.”

I swallowed hard. People were staring. My cheeks burned with humiliation as I led him toward the back office where my manager worked. I stayed outside when he went in, the heavy door closing between us.

I couldn’t hear what they were saying. All I could do was wait—nervous, restless—until the door finally opened again.

My manager, Mrs. Tania, stepped out with a wide smile that immediately settled me. Adrian followed behind her, his expression unreadable.

“You can go home, sweetheart,” Mrs. Tania said in a tone far too sweet to be real. “Don’t worry, your replacement’s already here.”

I blinked at her, confused. Mrs. Tania never let anyone off early. “Really?”

“Yes.” She slipped an arm around my shoulders, pretending we were close. “Go on, dear—and don’t let that man get away. You’re a lucky girl.”

My eyes widened in disbelief. Oh, no. She didn’t think Adrian and I were—

“Hurry up, Leah. I don’t have all night.”

I’d almost forgotten he was still there. Adrian’s gaze was razor-sharp, impossible to challenge.

“Yes, Mr. Hale,” I murmured.

I untied my apron, grabbed my things, and followed him out of the club. The night air hit my skin like a jolt, but the moment we stepped into his car, silence swallowed everything. Only the faint hum of the engine filled the space.

He didn’t look at me when he finally spoke. “What were you doing in a place like that?”

I bit my lips. “I was working, Mr. Hale.”

“Working?” His eyes flicked toward me, cold and disbelieving. “That’s what you call it?”

The scorn in his voice stung. “I needed an extra job,” I said quietly. “I go to classes during the day, work at the mini market in the afternoon, and only cover shifts at the club when someone calls in sick. That’s all.”

He said nothing. But I could see the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers drummed restlessly against the steering wheel.

“And does Margaret know you’re doing this?” he asked at last.

I shook my head slowly. “No. I don’t want to make anyone worry.”

He let out a long, weighted sigh. “You shouldn’t be working in a place like that, Leah.”

“A place like that is still better than not being able to pay my bills,” I said quietly, my eyes fixed on my knees.

He didn’t respond.

I knew I should’ve stopped talking, but the words slipped out anyway. “I didn’t expect to see you there. But thank you for coming to get me. Even if the way you did it was a little—”

“Embarrassing?” he cut in, his tone sharp.

I turned to look at him. “That’s not what I said.”

A faint smile ghosted across his lips, though his eyes didn’t match it. His gaze flickered over me again—starting from my face, drifting slowly down to my shoulders, and stopping there. That’s when I realized… my blouse was far too low-cut, and my skirt barely covered half my thighs.

I tugged my thin jacket closer, but it did little to help.

The car stopped at the gate of the house. Without a word, Adrian turned off the engine and stepped out. I followed, quiet and hesitant, but he stopped abruptly before I could reach the door.

“What is it?” I asked softly, trying to hide the nervous tremor in my voice.

He didn’t answer. Instead, he slipped off his black blazer and, with a calm, deliberate motion, draped it over my shoulders.

I looked up at him, confused. “You don’t have to—”

“Wear it,” he said. His voice was low, but there was no mistaking the authority in it. “I don’t want you seen like that outside.”

His words sent heat rushing to my face—part embarrassment, part irritation. “I was working, not partying.”

“It makes no difference to me,” he replied evenly.

I lowered my head, gripping the edges of the blazer. It was warm, heavy, and faintly scented with his cologne. The fabric drowned me, covering almost all of me, and for some reason that made my chest tighten.

We stood there under the dim garden light, just a single step apart, but the space between us felt unbearably small.

Adrian’s gaze found mine again—the same one he’d given me at breakfast. Calm, unreadable, but far too intense.

“From now on,” he said slowly, “if you need money, come to me. Don’t ever go back to a place like that.”

I opened my mouth, but no words came out.

“And Leah,” he continued, his voice dropping lower—deeper, rougher. The tips of his fingers brushed against my chin, so lightly it startled me. Then they tracked down, along the curve of my neck, stopping just at my collarbone.

“M-Mr. Hale?” I whispered.

His eyes darkened. “Next time I see you dressed like this,” he paused, gaze locked with mine, “I can’t promise I’ll be this restrained.”