Roman's POV
I woke up alone.
The first thing I noticed was the faint trace of her scent lingering next to me. It was floral and soft, a stark contrast to the chaos of the club and the haze of the night before.
The second thing I noticed was the unmistakable emptiness beside me. She was gone.
I sat up, running a hand through my hair, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep and the fiery intensity of last night. My body still hummed with the memory of her touch, the way she had responded to me, so unguarded, so raw.
But then, a darker thought pushed its way to the forefront.
Had she drugged me?
I clenched my jaw, the familiar surge of anger simmering beneath the surface. It didn't make sense. She had seemed as affected as I was, if not more. Still, the timing was too coincidental, the sudden overwhelming heat and the loss of control. I never let myself be vulnerable like that, never let my guard down.
I grabbed my shirt from the floor, my movements sharp and deliberate, as if dressing could somehow mask the irritation building inside me.
A knock at the door pulled me from my thoughts.
"Come in," I called, my tone clipped.
One of my men stepped inside, his face neutral but his posture tense. "Sir, the girl you were with... She's gone. Left the club early this morning."
I raised an eyebrow. She didn't even wait to see the fallout.
"And the manager of the club wants her back," he continued. "Apparently, she's needed for an apology."
I leaned back in the chair, my fingers drumming against the armrest. "An apology?"
"Yes. Apparently, someone from the VIP room felt disrespected."
A sharp laugh escaped me. Of course. The little waitress had a backbone, something rare in a place like Club Venus. That much was obvious from the start.
"Find out everything you can about her," I ordered. "Her name, her address, her history. Everything."
The man nodded and left without a word, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
Who was she, really? She wasn't just some club waitress, that much I was sure of. There was something about her, something I couldn't shake.
And I wasn't done with her yet.
I washed up in one of the club's private rooms and changed into the fresh clothes my men had brought me. The mirror reflected a composed exterior, but my mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, mostly about her.
Before I could focus on sorting through the chaos, my phone buzzed in my pocket. The caller ID flashed Grandfather.
What did the old man want now?
I swiped to answer.
"I hear you've finally found a woman," his deep, gravelly voice cut through the line.
I froze, my grip tightening on the phone. News traveled fast in my world, especially when it came to him. He always had his eyes and ears everywhere around me. He probably had a mole among my men. Wait until I find the asshole.
"Is that so?" I replied evenly, masking my irritation.
"Don't play coy with me, boy," he snapped. "Word is, you were seen with her at Club Venus. I assume there's truth to it. What's her name?"
I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to stay calm. "She's no one important."
He chuckled darkly, the sound carrying both amusement and warning. "No one important? That's not for you to decide. I want to meet her."
"Why?" My tone was sharper than I intended.
"To determine whether she's an asset or a liability, of course," he said as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "You know how this works. Every person you let into your life affects the family's reputation and business. If she's worth something, I'll support it. If not..." He let the sentence hang in the air, the implication clear.
Her life was at risk if she associated with me.
I exhaled slowly, willing myself not to let his overreach provoke me. I was used to this. As his chosen successor, my every move was under scrutiny. But this, she, was different.
"I'll think about it," I replied curtly, already planning how to keep her out of his grasp.
"You have a week," he said before the line went dead.
I slipped the phone back into my pocket, the cold determination settling over me.
If he wanted to meet her, it wouldn't be on his terms. Not this time.
When I stepped out of the room, Derrick, my assistant, was already waiting for me, ever punctual.
"I want you to acquire this club," I instructed, keeping my voice calm but firm. "And keep it low-key. No public announcements."
"Yes, boss," he replied, his fingers already flying over his phone to take notes.
"Let's head to the office," I added, striding past him.
"What about Avah?" he asked cautiously.
I stopped mid-step and turned to him. "Who the fuck is Avah?"
"The woman you slept with last night," Derrick clarified, his tone neutral.
Ah. So her name was Avah.
"Ooh," I murmured, the memory of her resurfacing briefly. "Delay their meeting until I get back."
Without a word, Derrick nodded, his thumbs moving swiftly as he typed something on his phone. I watched him for a moment. Derrick had been with me since I first started working, and I'd yet to meet anyone as fast or efficient as him. It was like he could read my mind sometimes, knowing exactly what needed to be done before I even voiced it.
We exited the club and slid into the waiting car. The ride to the company was quiet, but my mind was anything but.
Avah.
Her name rolled around in my thoughts, stirring something I couldn't quite place. I shook it off. Work came first, as always. There were reports to review, meetings to attend, and loose ends to tie up.
Whatever was happening with Avah, my little moon, could wait. For now.