Chapter 8 CHAPTER 8
ROMAN’S POV
“Boss, she’s here.”
Finally.
“Where exactly right now?” I asked Jordan, dropping the pen in my hands. Documents abandoned, as my gaze turned to the big screen sitting on the wall by my left. Several footage playing on there. Live.
“The main hall.” Jordan said, stepping closer from the door. Moving to the screens and zooming on a particular section. The feed instantly taking up space and pushing all the others to the edge. Boldly displaying the activities happening out there, right here in my office.
“She’s the one in white.”
White? Of course she would be.
What was Alina Monroe without drawing attention to herself? Always managing to stand out in every crowd no matter what, despite her obvious lack of height. Small, stubborn, impossible to miss. “She hasn’t changed one bit,” I scoffed, “Such an attention seeker, wearing white… Didn’t Vega give her an introduction earlier today?”
“Choice of outfit was somehow excluded.”Jordan said, “And we’re starting to get reports from other clients over her lack of… appropriate attire. Makes them uncomfortable.”
Uncomfortable? She wasn’t a part of them what’s with the reports? I just wanted her to get a feel of how everything goes on here. Watch her reactions, and allow the opportunity to run since that’s what she does best. But showing up like this?
White. In a room built from sin and gold, she had to come in white.
Well, this should be fun.
I leaned back then, smirking as I watched the screen. It’s bright glow, a contrast to the red hue lights of my office space. Desk layered with documents waiting to be signed, a half bottle of scotch sitting proudly on one side with the steady burn of my cigar right on top of a half glass. Tingling the air in smoke, and sweet satisfaction of watching my plans fall into place.
Just perfect.
It helped that she looked effectively misplaced in the crowd. Almost innocent, realizing what a mistake she’d made coming here and in that. But most of all, there was something else. Something underneath it all— a stiffness. Like someone trying too hard to appear unfazed. A woman who tells herself she’s above it all, yet her pulsating nerves betrays her.
And fuck, I could see those nerves from all the way here.
“Look at her,” I murmured, “Already thinking about running.”
“She’s uncomfortable,” Jordan said, “Brave though. Still standing there.”
Brave or clueless? Clueless was the word, Alina was anything but brave. Has always been, still is, and will forever be. But i intend to have my fun regardless.
I watched Vega show up beside her. Playing her usual role, smiling and leading her through the chaos. Alina, like a dear caught in the lights, doing her best not to take Vega’s hands. Stiff, swallowing and blinking too much. Obviously rattled by her environment. It was all both intriguing, and very much entertaining.
I was so right about this! About everything. First let her see it all calm and quiet, then bring her back when it was very much alive and raw! When the lights go off— Oxygen in it’s finest forms. But starring Alina Monroe, world’s renounced ‘pussycat.’
She’d run away, I’m sure. She always does. I won’t let her though, will block her path. And that’s when the real fun starts. The actual fun.
They turned a hallway on the screen, the part leading up to the Inner Bar. Used mostly by staff and Gold members— the VIPs on the first floor who’d paid for the privilege of sinning without consequence.
I couldn’t stay behind the screens anymore. Needed to see this live with my own eyes. “Let’s head out,” I said then, rising. “Need to walk around for a bit.”
Jordan shot me a look. Glancing at the workload I was leaving behind on my desk, but still said nothing. Smart man.
We took the private hallway to the second floor. The bar there, with it’s glass walls overlooking the other bar below. Where my entertainment for the night was.
And with a drink in hand, I approached it. Scanning for a bit, but easily locating the white dress. “There she is,” I muttered. Watching as her gaze shifted from the lounge area, the persons there and to the bartender, who flirted without shame. Her hands trembling slightly as she took her drink, taking it to her lips. Momentarily using it to still her failing composure.
“That’s new.”I mumbled, “I expected her to crack open by now, or at least show cracks.”
Everyone did. Most people the moment they stepped inside Oxygen. But somehow, this little woman was sitting at the bar. Breathing. Forcing herself together, not giving in.
The amber lights of the bar casting a glow on her white dress, cutting through the red haze of the entire lounge space. Like she was a challenge.
A silent dare.
Everyone else melted to the scene, the atmosphere and she was refusing to.
I could see her lips form some words. That little pink mouth surely muttering some sarcastic comment as she looked around. “She does seem interesting.” Jordan said beside me. “Not bad.”
I turned to him. “Not yours to look at either.”
He raised his hands, smirking. “Just making an observation, Boss.”
“Keep it to yourself.”
He chuckled quietly then, leaving the glass walls. My glass meeting my lips, and just then, her eyes found mine. Drifting at first but suddenly rushing back, confirming. Surprised. Freezing.
But slowly, barely a moment later, she straightened up. Back erect, chin lifted as she drowned her glass in one go. Eyes still pinned on me.
No flinching. No timidity or a drop of cluelessness like she once wore. Just pure, stubborn defiance. And I couldn’t stop the curve of my mouth from that sight alone. “There is she. The woman from the parking-lot. Alina Monroe.”
Alina.
She’d behaved like I wasn’t worth her time, but look who’s inside my building right now? Look who’s sitting on my bar stool, my glass in hand, and also staring right at me. “You trying to act tough?” I smirked, “Think that’s going to save you from this place? Me?”
Her lips moved again. A word. But before I could make it out, Vega called her attention. Taking her gaze off me, and to the bar itself. My amusement growing as I watched her. Smiles tugging at the sides of my mouth. The steady rhythm of music pulsing through the air, the floors. Laughter and chatters heavy. Breaths thick with wants… and for the first time in months, I didn’t feel detached from it.
Didn’t feel tired looking down at it all, rather I welcomed it. Delighted in it as that white dress moved amongst them. Not once glancing back though. But I knew right then.
I had found my own personal trigger.
A waiting storm. Just for me.
And I couldn’t wait to make it burn!