Chapter 45 The Butcher
Anna's POV
I swallowed quickly. “I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” I added.
For a second, he just stared at me. Then he chuckled. “I understand,” he said. “I am… intimidating.”
I nodded immediately. “Exactly.”
I eased slightly, even though I was still very much on edge.
“Are you Russian?” I asked, tilting my head a little. “Because you sound like one.”
He smirked faintly. “No,” he said. “But I grew up there.” He studied me again. “Do you like Russian men?” he asked.
I didn’t hesitate. “No,” I said flatly.
That earned me another chuckle. He reached for a glass from a passing tray and handed it to me.
I hesitated for just a second, then took it. “Thank you,” I said, holding the wine but not drinking it yet. “And thanks for letting me know you’re not here to kill me.”
My lips curved slightly. “Because you really do look like a serial killer.”
This time, he frowned properly.
My heartbeat jumped again. I was really testing my luck tonight.
But he laughed again. “I like you,” he said simply. “You speak your mind.”
I smiled faintly, though my fingers tightened slightly around the glass. “I try,” I said.
There was a pause.
Then I asked the question that had been sitting at the back of my mind. “If you don't mind me asking, how did you know my name?”
His eyes darkened slightly with amusement. “Who doesn’t know Anna?” he said instead. “You have become… famous.”
My brows pulled together. Famous?
He leaned closer, close enough that I could smell leather, smoke… something dangerous. “Word travels fast,” he murmured. “They say you saved Xavier’s life.”
My heart skipped. So it had spread already. I hadn’t expected that.
A faint heat crept up my cheeks before I could stop it. I forced a smile. “I guess people talk too much,” I said.
He didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he studied me again, more carefully this time.
Like I had just become… interesting.
I shifted slightly, suddenly aware of the room again.
People were watching, some subtly. Some not even trying to hide it.
I swallowed. This wasn’t good.
I turned back to him quickly. “You haven’t told me your name,” I said, softer this time.
He smiled. This time, it reached his eyes, but somehow, that made it even worse.
“They call me…” he paused, like he was savoring it, “the Butcher.”
I blinked, before I could respond, he slipped a card into my hand. His fingers brushed mine briefly.
“Don’t hesitate to reach out,” he said quietly. “If you need anything.”
My eyes flicked down to the card. Then back up, but he was already walking away.
Like a shadow disappearing. Like he had only come to make a point. Or mark me.
I stood there for a second, slightly stunned.
Then I noticed movement from the corner of my eye. Eve, walking toward me.
By the time she reached me, the Butcher was already gone.
Eve’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile.
“It seems,” she said calmly, “someone is enjoying the party.”
I let out a small breath, setting the glass of wine down on the table beside me. “Enjoying is a strong word.”
Eve folded her arms, her eyes scanning my face like she was trying to read something beneath it. “Really? Because from where I’m standing, you look… comfortable.”
I gave a small shrug. “I’m trying to blend in.”
Her lips curved slightly. “Then you're doing it perfectly.”
I looked away, my fingers unconsciously brushing against the edge of the chair. “That man… the one I was talking to. He called himself the Butcher.”
Eve’s expression changed immediately. “Then you should be careful,” she said quietly.
I frowned. “You know him?”
Eve nodded slowly. “Everyone in this world knows him. He’s not someone you casually sit and drink wine with.”
I swallowed. “He didn’t seem that bad.”
Eve gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’s because he chose not to be. There’s a difference.”
That sent a small chill down my spine.
Before I could respond, Eve leaned closer. “Did he say anything important to you?”
I hesitated for a second, then shook my head. “Just… nonsense. Said I’m famous now.”
Eve’s eyes lingered on me, like she didn’t fully believe me, but she didn’t push.
“Be careful who you talk to tonight,” she said instead. “Not everyone here is a friend.”
I almost laughed at that. Friend? In a room full of mafia lords?
I picked up my glass again, taking a slow sip just to have something to do. The wine tasted smooth, expensive… dangerous in its own way.
Music played softly in the background, low and seductive. Laughter floated through the air, mixed with whispers and clinking glasses.
Some of the women in masks moved through the room, brushing against men, leaning into conversations, disappearing into corners.
My eyes moved across the room, taking everything in carefully.
Then suddenly— The atmosphere shifted. It was subtle at first. But I felt it.
The way conversations started dying down. The way people straightened. The way attention slowly turned toward one direction.
I didn’t need Eve to tell me. I already knew. Xavier was around.
My heart skipped.
I turned. And there he was. Walking in like he owned not just the room… but everyone in it.
Dressed in black, as always. His presence was suffocating in the most controlled way.
Men nodded as he passed. Some lowered their heads slightly.
My fingers tightened slightly around the glass.
Eve leaned closer, her voice barely above a whisper. “Don’t stare too much.”
Too late. Because his eyes had already found mine. And he didn’t look away.
Something in my chest tightened.
Damn him. Why does he always do that? Make everything feel like a game I don’t understand.
I quickly looked away, pretending to be interested in my drink.
I hated t how my body reacted to him before my mind could catch up.
Eve suddenly stepped back. “I’ll leave you to it.” Coward.
Before I could say anything, she was already gone. And then he was there, standing right in front of me.
Close enough to feel his presence wrap around me like something heavy.
I slowly lifted my gaze to meet his. Bad idea. Always a bad idea.
Because once I looked into his eyes… It was hard to look away.
“You seem comfortable,” he said.
I forced a small smile. “I’m trying to survive.”
His lips twitched slightly. “You’re doing more than surviving.”
I tilted my head. “Oh? And what am I doing?”
He didn’t answer immediately. His gaze dropped briefly to my lips, then back to my eyes.
Then he said quietly, “You’re adapting.”
“Isn’t that what you want?” I asked. “For me to fit into your world?”
He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached past me, picking up a glass from the table like I wasn’t even the one who asked the question.
Then he turned slightly and raised his voice just enough. “Gentlemen.”
The room quieted almost instantly. My heart started pounding.
Xavier took a slow sip of his drink, completely unbothered by the attention.