He motioned to his men, his eyes cold and commanding. "Deal with Mr. Cole," he said, voice low but lethal. Without waiting for a reply, he turned to his secretary and his other man. "Let's go. Zee comes with us."
The drive was silent, the city lights flickering across the sleek black interior of his car. When they arrived, he dropped Zee off at a hotel that felt more like a palace than a place to stay. The grand lobby sparkled with polished marble floors, golden chandeliers casting soft, warm light across intricate moldings, and the scent of fresh roses filled the air. Every corner spoke of elegance. Velvet armchairs, gleaming reception desks, and crystal-clear fountains whispered quietly in the background. Staff moved with quiet efficiency, uniforms crisp, smiles polite but practiced, anticipating every guest's need.
His secretary handled the check-in with calm precision, while Zee clung to him, her small hands clutching his sleeve, eyes wide with innocent fear. "Please… don't leave," she murmured.
He crouched slightly, brushing a stray strand of hair from her face. "I'll be back," he said softly, his expression unreadable. After a few moments, he straightened, giving her one last lingering look before leaving with his men.
Before departing, he ensured everything she might need was ready. A suitcase of new clothes was neatly folded. Meals were prepared and placed in the hotel's kitchen. The staff was fully briefed. His final instruction was cold and precise. He would make sure the club went bankrupt.
Zee awoke the next morning with a pounding headache and a foggy mind. Her phone buzzed insistently, showing work emails stacking up. She frowned, struggling to understand what had happened.
The notifications were not just emails. They were a digital landslide. "Zee, where are you? The locks have been changed," one text read. Another contained a link to a local news snippet. City Landmark 'The Club' Seized in Overnight Raid. Owners Cited for Massive Compliance Violations.
Her breath hitched. A club did not just vanish at 4:00 a.m. unless someone with godlike influence decided it should.
A gentle knock at the door pulled her from her thoughts. The receptionist appeared, carrying a tray of fresh breakfast. "Good morning, Miss," she said. "A young man brought you in and settled everything. He also left these clothes for you." She gestured toward the neatly folded outfit beside the tray.
Zee blinked, her thoughts racing. A young man? Who… could it be? Adrian? No, that's impossible. Her mind struggled to reconcile the luxurious room, the marble floors, the chandelier above, and the soft hum of the fountain, with the reality of being cared for by someone she did not even know.
Pushing the silk duvet aside, her hands trembled, not from cold, but from the sharp, unnerving realization that she was indebted to a stranger. She did not just want to know who he was. She needed to know what he expected in return for all this polished marble and luxury.
She sank into the plush chair, feeling small and overwhelmed. Nothing made sense. But for now, she had food to eat and clothes to wear, and the fragments of a night she could not remember hovered like smoke around her.