He slipped the card into his work bag, stood, and made his way out of the restaurant. His ride was already waiting outside, and without a second thought, he headed straight for the club.
The neon pulse of Obsidian throbbed through the pavement as Adrian stepped out of the car. Inside, the club was a haze of expensive perfume, heavy bass, and dim violet light. He made his way to the bar and ordered a drink that tasted like liquid courage.
To his surprise, he didn't even need the clumsy lines he'd rehearsed. Within minutes, three women had gravitated toward him, their laughter bright, their intentions unmistakable. Maybe Frank and Charles were right, he thought, a small, tentative smile tugging at his lips. Maybe this isn't so hard.
He studied them carefully, weighing his options, wondering which one might finally help him break the silence that had held him for three long years.
His pocket vibrated. He pulled out his phone, his brow furrowing when he saw the caller ID: Granny.
Panic flared. It was far too late for her to be awake, let alone calling. He stood abruptly, signaling the women to wait, and tried to make his way to a quieter corner.
But before he could reach anywhere, the world… stopped.
The music died with a violent mechanical groan. The violet lights vanished.
Total, absolute darkness swallowed the room.
For most, it was a temporary inconvenience. For Adrian, it was a death sentence. His nyctalopia struck like a physical blow; in total darkness, his eyes were useless, leaving him suspended in a void where up felt down and the air pressed heavy against his lungs. Memories of the accident from years ago rushed back all at once, choking him with their intensity.
He was about to turn on his phone's light when a sharp voice cut through the terrified murmurs of the crowd.
"Everyone stay down!"
Adrian froze. He stood like a statue in the center of the floor, his phone ringing in his hand, the glowing screen the only pinprick of light in the suffocating darkness.
BANG.
The first gunshot cracked through the air, followed by the jagged shattering of glass and the shrill, piercing screams of the women he had just been talking to.
BANG.
Adrian shut his eyes, shallow breaths hitching in his chest. He felt completely exposed, a blind target in a room full of predators. He surrendered to the inevitable, bracing for the cold sting of bullets or the suffocating crush of the panicked crowd.
Suddenly, a heavy, warm hand slid into his, gripping him with urgent strength and guiding him firmly through the chaos. Another hand steadied him at the waist, nudging him forward with quiet authority. Adrian moved where he was told, his steps hesitant but obedient, swept along by the stranger's presence. Even in the dark, the crowd instinctively parted, making a path for them.
The transition was a blur. One moment, he was choking on the metallic tang of fear and sweat; the next, the cool night air slammed against his face. He was ushered into the plush leather interior of a car. The door closed with a firm, expensive click, and before he could even draw a steady breath, the engine roared to life.
As the vehicle sped beneath the rhythmic flicker of the city's streetlights, Adrian's vision slowly returned. His heart pounded against his ribs like a trapped bird. Trembling, he turned to look at the man who had saved him.
Bathed in the strobing orange glow of the passing lights sat the man from the restaurant.
Matteo Marcone didn't look at him. He sat perfectly still, his profile as sharp and unforgiving as a flint blade, adjusted his silk cuffs as if he hadn't just dragged a man out of a war zone.
Adrian, however, was frozen. He stared at the stranger as if he were looking at a ghost, or a reaper.
"Don't look at me with that face," Matteo said. He didn't turn his head, but his voice cut through the air like a cold snap.
Adrian's breath hitched. He tore his gaze away from Matteo and looked toward the front of the car. Two men in black suits sat there, a driver and a passenger, silent, alert, and watching. He turned back to Matteo, his throat dry from panic, struggling to find the words. When they finally came, they escaped as a desperate whisper.
"Drop me. Right here."
Matteo finally turned his head, his dark eyes sweeping over Adrian with deliberate, chilling calm. "You've skipped your 'thank you' twice," he said. "Do you have no manners?"
Adrian's eyes widened, the weight of Matteo's words crashing down on him. Fear drowned out any gratitude. "Drop me," he repeated, his voice rising with frantic urgency.
"And if I don't?" Matteo asked, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips.
Adrian let out a jagged, hysterical chuckle. "I'll scream. I'll scream until someone stops this car."
Matteo leaned back, a dark, predatory amusement dancing in his gaze. "Then by all means, start screaming. Let's see who in this city has the nerve to stop my car."
The challenge sent a shiver down Adrian's spine. Panic surged as he felt trapped in a moving cage, unsure how much power this stranger had. "I don't even know you! Where are you taking me?"
"I've saved your life twice tonight," Matteo said, his voice dropping low, almost a growl. "If I wanted to harm you, do you think I'd bother at all?" He turned fully toward Adrian, his shadow filling the cramped space. "Keep quiet. I hate unnecessary noise."
Adrian opened his mouth to protest, but his words never formed. In an instant, Matteo's hand shot out, one grasping the nape of Adrian's neck with iron-firm fingers, the other clamping over his mouth, stifling his gasp.
"Keep quiet," Matteo whispered, leaning in until their noses almost touched. The heat from his body was a sharp contrast to the coldness of his words. "I'm not a nice man. Don't test me."
Adrian's pulse raced uncontrollably. He tensed, inhaling the sharp, intoxicating scent of expensive sandalwood, finally yielding to the weight of the hand over his mouth.
"Boss," the driver spoke up, his eyes meeting Matteo's in the rearview mirror. "Which route?"
Matteo didn't take his eyes off Adrian as he spoke. "The usual."
"Copy, Boss."
As the car sped toward an unknown destination, the word Boss replayed over and over in Adrian's mind. He glanced cautiously at the man beside him, unease settling deep in his stomach. Who was he, really? And more importantly… why had he saved him?
Adrian eventually lapsed into a tense silence, the realization sinking in that he couldn't exactly jump out of a speeding bulletproof sedan. He sat stiffly, watching the city lights blur into the dark, manicured outskirts of the elite districts.
The car eventually turned into a sprawling, high-security estate. It was a fortress of limestone and iron, silent and imposing. The gates groaned open with a heavy, mechanical hum, revealing a driveway lined with security cameras that seemed to track their every move. The main house loomed ahead, a masterpiece of modern Gothic architecture, all sharp angles, dark glass, and an air of untouchable power.
As the car came to a smooth halt, the man in the passenger seat stepped out immediately, rounding the vehicle to pull the door open with practiced efficiency.
Matteo exited first, followed by Adrian.
The night air felt heavier outside, and for a brief moment, Adrian's vision blurred under the dim lights.
He blinked, allowing his eyes to adjust before lifting his gaze. That was when he realized they weren't alone. Two other black SUVs stood strategically in place, one positioned ahead of them, the other directly behind. Their car had been traveling in the middle all along.
Men in sharp suits surrounded the area, their expressions set in cold professionalism. As the stranger walked past them, every guard lowered his head in synchronized respect.
How could I be this unlucky? Adrian thought, his heart sinking. There was no running from this. These men weren't just security; they were soldiers.
They moved toward the massive entrance. The double doors parted before a hand reached them, unveiling an interior that redefined opulence. Dark marble stretched beneath their feet, velvet furniture gleamed in the dim amber light, and more guards stood at every corner. Even the household staff lined up neatly, bowing low as the master of the house stepped inside.
Suddenly, a man named Tony stepped into the foyer, a casual smirk on his face. "Mat, Mat! You're back. I thought you'd be out all night..." He stopped mid-sentence when his eyes landed on Adrian. His smirk widened into something more mischievous. "Who's this? Another Playboy?"
Adrian's head snapped up, his face flushing with a mix of confusion and heat. "Play—what?"
He looked at Matteo, fully expecting a sharp denial, a correction, anything. But to Adrian's absolute shock, Matteo simply glanced back at him with an unreadable expression.
"Yes," he replied coolly.
Adrian stared at him…