Alex pov
The first glimmer of dawn barely pierced the heavy curtains when my eyes snapped open. I was awake, not stirred by an alarm, but by the relentless hum of a brewing storm within me. The early hour of the morning offered little comfort as I swung my legs out of the king-sized bed, the plush carpet yielding beneath my feet. I moved straight to the opulent marble bathroom, where I took a deliberately unhurried bath, letting the warmth soak into my skin, and then meticulously freshened myself, preparing not just for work, but for the confrontation to come.
Dressed in a tailored suit that exuded power and precision, I called out to one of my most trusted security details, Daniel. He appeared swiftly, a silent shadow of deference. "Daniel," I commanded, my voice betraying none of the simmering fury beneath, "go to Angel's apartment. Bring her to me." My gaze hardened as I leaned closer, dropping my voice to a dangerous whisper. "If she refuses to follow you, do not hesitate. Drag her into the car and bring her here. Now." Daniel merely bowed his head in a gesture of unquestioning obedience, then turned on his heel and strode out, the soft click of the front door announcing his departure in one of my high-end vehicles.
I retreated to my expansive study, a room designed for contemplation and command. Settling into my plush, leather armchair, I steepled my fingers, a predatory glint in my eyes, and waited for Daniel to bring that insolent woman to me. "I will show her that no one defies me and escapes unpunished," I murmured to myself, a dark, simmering rage coiling in my gut. Her audacity had reached its limit, and now, so had my patience.
A few minutes later, my housekeeper, Maria, knocked discreetly on my door. "Enter," I ordered, my voice clipped. She glided in, a vision of quiet efficiency, carrying a silver tray. My steaming Colombian coffee, aromatic and potent, was placed on the polished mahogany desk with practiced grace before she retreated, her footsteps barely audible. I took a sip, the bitter warmth doing little to soothe the tempest brewing inside me.
The minutes stretched into an eternity, evolving into hours. Daniel's continued absence grated on my nerves, each passing moment fueling the inferno of my wrath. The commute from my sprawling estate to her humble apartment was a mere thirty-minute drive, under optimal conditions. Yet, three agonizing hours had passed, and there was still no sign of him, no call, no update. My anger intensified with every tick of the antique grandfather clock in the hall. What could possibly be taking so long? Was Daniel truly that incompetent? Or was Angel proving to be more problematic than I anticipated?
I snatched my phone, my fingers trembling with barely contained fury, and dialed his number. It rang, relentlessly, a dozen times, thirteen, fourteen, each unanswered ring a jarring echo of my escalating frustration. Just as I stormed out of the mansion, prepared to commandeer another vehicle and drive to the office myself – or perhaps directly to Angel's lair – a faint car horn blared from outside. My gateman, sensing the urgency in my rigid posture, swung open the ornate wrought-iron gates, and Daniel's car finally, finally, rolled into the driveway.
The last shred of my composure snapped. I surged forward, my hand connecting with a resounding crack across his face, the force of the blow meant to convey the full depth of my unbridled fury. Daniel stumbled back, his hand flying to his reddened cheek, his eyes wide with shock and pain. His usually impeccable uniform was disheveled, and his posture oddly hunched.
"What in hell kept you, you incompetent fool?" I roared, my voice echoing through the morning air, "Are you truly incapable of dragging an ordinary, insignificant girl from her hovel and bringing her here?" Only then did I truly notice the peculiar pallor of his face, the way he seemed to sway precariously on his feet, his eyes glazed. My anger, though still simmering dangerously, was momentarily eclipsed by a flicker of confusion. I narrowed my eyes, my voice dropping to a dangerously low, controlled tone. "Speak, Daniel. What happened out there?"
His words came out in a rush, a garbled confession barely above a whisper. "Sir... she... she was formidable. She kicked me, sir. Right... right there," he stammered, gesturing vaguely towards his groin. "I... I blacked out. Fainted, I think. And when I came to, she was gone. Vanished." He looked utterly defeated, a pathetic, broken sight.
"Fool! Imbecile!" My voice rose again, dripping with contempt, "You dare stand before me and recount such a humiliating tale? You, a trained security professional, bested by that scrawny, infuriating Angel? Are you a man or a mewling kitten?" The sheer absurdity, the monumental failure, ignited a fresh wave of blinding rage.
My personal chauffeur, a man named Marcus, had already positioned the sleek black sedan at the front of the house, patiently awaiting my departure for the office. I turned my back on Daniel, my jaw clenched so tight I could feel my teeth ache. "Listen closely, Daniel," I growled, my voice a venomous whisper, "When I return to this house later today, if Angel is not here, bound and ready for me, consider yourself not just fired, but utterly ruined. Understand?"
With that final, chilling ultimatum, I strode purposefully to the waiting car, and settled into the luxurious leather seat. Marcus, without needing a further command, smoothly pulled away, the vehicle gliding silently down the long driveway and out onto the main road, heading towards my towering office building. But my mind was far from work; it was consumed by Angel, and the wrath she had so carelessly ignited. She would pay. And Daniel had better pray he could somehow deliver her into my hands.