Chapter 10 New Acquisition
He's a psycho.
It’s the only logical explanation for this....for the office, for the contract, for the way he’s currently occupying my space like he owns the oxygen in it. I’ve dealt with obsessed customers before. Orphic occasionally draws in the type of people who don’t understand the word no, the ones who think a hefty tip is a down payment on me. But this? This is on a whole different level. It’s the same pathology, just wrapped in a ten-thousand-dollar suit, which makes it infinitely more dangerous.
"Look, dude," I say, my voice trembling with a mix of rage and that humiliating adrenaline. "I don’t know what kind of delusional narrative you’ve spun in your head, but this is my place of work. You don't get to just waltz behind my bar and ambush me. You’re overstepping, and quite frankly, it’s pissing me off."
Bastian doesn't flinch. He just tilts his head, his thumb still tracing the sensitive skin of my wrist. "An ambush? I’d call it an inspection. Can’t a man make sure his assets are performing up to his standards?"
I shake my head, my jaw tight. He’s talking about the damn modeling gig, calling me a freaking asset. "About that.... I quit. If I’d known you were a high-functioning stalker, I never would’ve touched that contract. Keep the money. It’s not worth the mental tax of having you breathe down my neck."
This is definitely the right move. Walk away before he burns me down.
His eyes narrow, the blue turning to a shard of jagged ice. "The money not enough for you?"
"Are you serious?" I finally wrench my arm away, the skin where he touched me feeling like it’s been branded. I keep my voice low, conscious of the staff moving around us, though we might as well be in a soundproof box. "It’s not about the damn money. Plus the pay is definitely more than I’m logically worth, and we both know it."
"You think so?" He steps closer, his presence a heavy, suffocating weight. "You don't think you're worth that much?....Because I do. In fact, I think you’re worth significantly more than what’s on that paper."
I scoff. "Right. Save the flattery for someone else. I’m going to the back. If you’re still behind my bar when I get back, I’m calling security and having you tossed."
I turn on my heel, my heart hammering against my ribs, desperate to get to the cellar stairs. I’m three steps away when his voice cuts through the air, low but devastatingly clear.
"Then tell me, Kaden. How much do you think it would take to get my cock in that pretty mouth of yours?"
I spin around, fire roaring through my veins. "Don't fucking talk to me like that!"
"Like what?" his voice is a calm, conversational tone that makes me more furious. "Honest? Direct?" His eyes skim over me, lingering on the line of my throat before dropping lower. "A body like this..."
He steps forward, reaching out to place a hand on my waist, his palm landing heavy on me. I feel my fingers curl into a fist, my knuckles white. I’m a split second away from swinging, from seeing if I can break that perfect, arrogant nose of his, when the air is shattered by a familiar, frantic bark.
"Okay, listen up! I want the floor clear in five, and I want everyone gathered in my—"
Tony freezes.
He’s standing ten feet away, his clipboard halfway to his chest. His mouth drops open, his eyes darting from me to Bastian’s hand on my waist, then up to Bastian’s face. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost.
My stomach drops. Great. Tony told me to be on my A-game, to be professional. And here I am, caught in a back-alley-style standoff with some guy behind the bar.
"Tony, I'm sorry," I start, my voice tight as I step away from Bastian’s touch. "I told him he couldn't be back here, I was just trying to get him to—"
"Sir," Tony chokes out, his face going a weird, mottled shade of gray. He isn’t looking at me with anger. He’s looking at Bastian with pure shock, the kind of look a man gives a lightning bolt right before it hits him.
He scrambles forward, his clipboard nearly slipping from his sweaty grip. "Mr. Steele. I...we didn’t know you’d be coming in this early. Your assistant said your schedule was packed until the late-night walk-through."
My gaze narrows, completely puzzled.
"I found I had some time to spare. And I’ve always preferred a hands-on approach to my acquisitions."
"Of course, absolutely," Tony rants, his voice up an octave. He’s vibrating with a frantic, desperate energy. "I was just about to pull the crew together to inform them about the....changes."
I stand there, my fist still partially clenched, my brain struggling to bridge the gap between stalker and ‘acquisitions’. I glance between Tony and Bastian. Confusion a cold weight in my chest.
"Changes?" I ask, my voice sounding flat and suspicious. "Tony, what're you talking about?"
He doesn't even look at me, he’s too busy trying to find a place for his hands. "Kaden, for God's sake, don't just stand there. Pour the man a drink." He turns back to Bastian, his smile so forced it looks painful. "What can we get for you, Sir? We’ve got the Umbra front and center, just like you requested. It’s already on the special menu....we’ve been pushing it since last night, and the reception has been incredible. Isn't that right, Kaden? Tell him how fast we’re moving through the stock."
I feel like the floor just fell out from under the building. I look at Bastian, who's watching me with a look of supreme, infuriating triumph. He shifts his gaze from me, looking around the dim room as if he’s already mentally renovating the place....or clearing it out.
"Make the announcement now,” he says “There’s no need to drag it out. It isn't a state funeral, and I’m sure everyone has a lot of work to get to." He lets his eyes slide back to mine.
"Yes, of course, Mr. Steele. Right away," Tony fumbles with his headset, gesturing wildly toward the booth. "Zeke! Cut the track! Everyone, front and center, now!"
The heavy bass of the pre-shift house music dies a sudden, jarring death, leaving the club in an eerie silence. The staff begins to trickle out from the shadows....looking around with wary expressions.
"Kaden," Tony says, pointing toward the hallway. "Do me a favor and check who’s still in the back. Call them over so we can—"
"Send someone else," Bastian interrupts. His voice isn't loud, but it carries a weight that stops Tony mid-sentence. His focus is entirely on me, his body leaning casually against the bar as if he’s already claimed the wood as his throne. "He stays here."
Tony blinks, his mouth opening and closing. He looks at me, then back at Bastian, the confusion written in the frantic lines of his forehead. But he doesn’t question the guy.
"Right. Sure. Of course," he mumbles, regaining his footing. "Kimmy! Go check the breakroom and the back alley. Everyone on the floor, now!"
I stand frozen behind the bar, the notebook still crushed in my hand. The rest of the staff gathers, whispering and casting curious glances at the man standing in my station. Once the circle is complete, Tony steps up, clearing his throat.
"Okay, everyone, listen up," he starts, his voice echoing in the hollow space. "I’ll keep this brief as per the request of our new.... well, our new owner. As of a few days ago, Orphic has been acquired by Steele Industries. This is Mr. Bastian Steele. He’ll be overseeing a few structural changes, but for now, it's business as usual."
A collective murmur ripples through the crowd, but I can’t hear them. All I can hear is the blood rushing in my ears and the silent, deafening promise Bastian is making with his eyes. He isn't acknowledging his new employees. He’s just watching the way my chest heaves with every angry, confused breath I take.