"Axel... so he is the owner of that club."
Calliah muttered as she took a slow sip of her coffee.
She sat by the window, legs crossed, wearing nothing but a black silk nightgown that slid off one shoulder. Her transparent glasses caught the morning light as she scrolled lazily through her phone.
"No wonder girls are always around him," she added with a bitter smirk.
Then her phone buzzed. A message from Tess.
Tess:Got it. This is his number: +1 (347) 990-8472
Be careful, babe. Men like him don't come with safety warnings.
Calliah stared at the digits.
"So this is who he really is..."
She saved the number without a name. Just the initial: "A."
Her thumb hovered over the call button.
Then she locked the screen instead.Not yet.
She hesitated then dialed.
The line rang once… twice… three times…
Click.
"Calliah?"
His voice was smooth, deep, and calm—too calm.
Her heart skipped.
How the hell did he know?
"P-please… I'm not Calliah," she lied, forcing her voice flat.
A low chuckle slid through the line.
"Shhh, love. It's you. I knew you'd try to find out who I really am."
She gritted her teeth. "Yes, I did. So… how did you know it was me?"
He exhaled, almost amused.
"Because no one calls this number unless I give it to them. And I haven't shared it in months."
Silence.
"You found my information through your friend Tess, right?"Her stomach dropped.
bbWhat the hell.
She hadn't told anyone not even Tess that she'd called.
"You're watching me," she whispered.
"No," he said. "I'm just good at keeping secrets… and knowing when someone is digging into mine."
Calliah swallowed hard, trying to keep her voice steady.
"What are you? Some kind of criminal?"
Axel's laugh was low and dangerous.
"Would that make you run, or turn you on?"
She didn't answer.
"Listen, Calliah," he said, tone sharpening. "If you're going to play this game… be smart and ready to burn it all ."
Her grip tightened on the phone. "So burn me."
He paused. Then his voice dropped to a whisper."see you next time I'm busy"
The call ended.
Calliah stared at the screen, her reflection faint in the black glass.
***
AXEL'S POV
The moment my phone lit up, I knew it was her.
Calliah.
Did she really think I wouldn't know?
I leaned back in the leather chair, rolling my whiskey glass between my fingers. The number was unfamiliar, but the timing wasn't. She found what she wanted. And now… she wanted more.
I answered with a low calm voice.
"Calliah?"
A pause. Then she lied.
"Please... I'm not Calliah."
I smiled to myself.
"Shhh, love. It's you. I know your silence like I know your body."
Her breath hitched.
Then she admitted it. "Yes, I did. So… how did you know it was me?"
I leaned forward, resting my elbow on the desk.
"No one calls this number unless I give it to them. I haven't shared it in a long time. So when it rang? I knew."
A beat of silence.
"You got it from your friend Tess, right?" I added casually.
Dead silence.
That one hit.
"You're watching me," she whispered.
I chuckled softly. "No. I'm just always ten steps ahead."
Then I hung up.Not out of disrespect.
Just to remind her who was in control.
***
An hour later, I sent the text:
Wear something red. You look good when you're angry.Driver's downstairs.And I knew she would come.
Not because I asked.But because she needed to.
The fire crackled low behind me as I stood in my private suite beneath the casino. The walls were black and gold, shadows clinging to every corner. I liked it that way. Quiet. Controlled.
I didn't bring just anyone here.
And she wasn't just anyone.
Ding.
The elevator chimed.
I didn't turn around.
But I felt her.
Her energy entered first hot, reckless, familiar. Her heels clicked across marble like a slow countdown. I took a slow sip of whiskey, letting the silence stretch.
"You came," I said, without facing her.
"I always do," she replied, voice steady.
I turned.
And there she was.
Not in red.
Not in some dramatic dress trying to seduce me.
No she wore a tight black crop top and bun shorts that barely covered anything but made damn sure I noticed everything.
Her legs were long and dangerous. Her stomach bare and smooth. Her lips painted blood-red. Hair tied up in a lazy bun, with strands falling down like sin.
And those eyes.
Sharp. Unforgiving. Addictive.
She didn't dress up to impress me.
She dressed to remind me what I lost.
And what I still wanted.
I let my eyes drag down her body slowly — from her throat to her hips, pausing just enough to make her heart race.
She didn't flinch.
She wanted me to look.
"You look like revenge," I murmured.
She stepped forward until I could smell her perfume dark and warm, like smoke wrapped in roses.
"And you look like a mistake I'm ready to make again," she whispered back.
I laughed softly. God, she was something else.
"Then let's make it… unforgettable."