Elena's P.O.V
Maribelle slid a glass across the sticky surface of the small table in our favorite hole-in-the-wall bar.
"You look like you got chewed up by your new boss," she said, studying me.
I swirled the amber liquid and took a gulp that burned all the way down. I wanted to cry.
"Correction-chewed up, smacked, and then spit out."
Her brows shot up. "Smacked?"
"Long story. Short version-your favorite elusive billionaire knew how to make an entrance. And an exit." I leaned back in my chair, pressing the rim of the glass to my lips. "Dax is my new boss, Belle."
"WHAT?"
"Mhm," I nodded.
"The same Dax from that night? Are you sure it was him?"
"I just left his office, Belle. Dax and Mr. Valiente are the same person."
"Wow..."
"And get this-he was the reason I hadn't been able to find a job. According to him, I could only ever work for him."
Maribelle whistled low. "That's. diabolical. Sexy, but diabolical."
"Don't use the S-word. I'm trying to hate him." I set the glass down a little harder than necessary. "I need this job. You know what my bank account looks like-Jack's school fees are due next month, and I can't pay rent and school on wishes. But I can't work for Dax."
She tilted her head. "And yet, your face is doing that thing it does when you think about him."
"What thing?"
"That thing where you look like you're about to roll your eyes but then remember you liked it."
I stared into my drink. The ice cubes clinked together, mocking me. She wasn't wrong. My pulse still sped up when I remembered the smack of his hand on my butt, the low rumble of his voice, the way he looked at me like he owned me. And I hated that I liked it.
"Oh God. I can't let him find out about Jack," I realized sharply. "He's powerful enough to make me vanish if he wants to. Jack was my whole world. I had no leverage against a billionaire, Belle."
Maribelle leaned forward, lowering her voice. "Then we make sure he never finds out. I'll help. We'll keep Jack out of sight, keep your schedules separate. We've done harder things, Lena."
I nodded, but the knot in my stomach didn't loosen. This wasn't just a normal boss with a big ego. This was Dax-the man I had slept with five years ago, the reason my parents disowned me. And the man I still wanted to sleep with.
"What am I going to do?" I cried, lightly banging my head against the table. "What does he even want?"
"That, my friend, is a question you'll have to ask him," Belle answered, giggling.
I narrowed my eyes at her. "Are you laughing at me?"
She cleared her throat, still giggling. "Of course not. But you have to agree it's a bit funny." She laughed even louder. "Only you would sleep with a man who would pull something like this. Only you."
I shook my head, looking around. The disco sign flickered above the hallway. My bladder pressed painfully against my lower stomach. I pushed my chair back. "I'll be right back. Don't let anyone steal my drink."
Maribelle saluted me with her glass.
The hallway smelled faintly of bleach and bad cologne. The music from the bar thudded against the walls, muffled. I pushed the bathroom door open, but before I could step inside, a shadow moved behind me.
"Where you going, sweetheart?"
I froze. Three guys blocked the narrow hall, all in matching leather jackets.
Gang members.
"I need to use the restroom," I said flatly, moving to step around them.
One of them shifted, blocking my path. "A pretty girl like you shouldn't be wandering alone." His gaze dragged down my body in a way that made my skin itch.
"Lucky for me, I'm not," I said. "My friend's waiting right out there, and she owns a taser."
They laughed, the sound crawling over me. One leaned in close enough for me to catch the sour tang of stale whiskey. "We can keep you company instead."
My hand tightened around my phone. I could call Maribelle. Or scream. My eyes flicked toward the exit, calculating the distance, the odds of getting past them. Not great.
Then something shifted in the air-subtle at first. The hallway seemed to shrink, the oxygen heavier, as though it knew something dangerous had entered.
A shadow stretched along the wall under the flickering light.
Dax stepped into view.
He was still in the same black suit from that morning, but his collar was open now, no tie. His eyes darkened as they dragged over me-calm, but with a tension in his hands, fingers twitching, that told me this was the kind of calm that came before a storm ripped the roof off.
"Move," he said, voice low, dangerous.
The men laughed, but it died quickly. Dax didn't raise his voice. He didn't rush. He just kept walking, and each measured step made the air feel heavier.
One tried to speak. "Listen, man-"
"I said," Dax's eyes cut to him, cold enough to freeze bone, "move."
The tallest one backed up first. The others followed, muttering curses. Dax didn't even watch them leave-his gaze was locked on me.
"I must say," I told him, keeping my voice steady even though my pulse was tap-dancing in my throat, "you have a talent for showing up like you own the room, Mr. Valiente."
"I own more than the room," he said, stepping closer.
I took a step back, bumping into the wall. "Thanks for that, but I didn't need you playing bodyguard."
His eyes darkened. "You did if you were walking around without me."
I snorted. "Newsflash-I've been doing that for five years and somehow survived without your supervision."
His gaze dropped to my mouth, and for a second, the tension between us shifted-sharp and electric, humming with something that wasn't anger.
"I told you, Elena," he said quietly, "everything about you is my business."
"Then consider me a hostile takeover," I said, forcing my feet to move past him toward the bar.
I didn't make it two steps.
An arm wrapped around my waist, and suddenly my world flipped. My stomach hit a solid wall of muscle, and I was dangling over his shoulder like a sack of rice.
"Dax!" I pounded my fists against his back. "Put me down!"
"No." The word was calm. Final.
"This is illegal!" I kicked my legs, but his arm locked across my thighs like steel. "You've got a problem, you know that? A serious control problem!"
"Then stop making me prove I have it," he said, striding for the exit.
Heads turned as we passed through the bar. He didn't glance at anyone. My hair swung into my face, my skin heating from embarrassment and-annoyingly-something else.
I smacked his back again, harder. "Dax Valiente, I swear-"
He stopped just outside in the drizzle, then delivered a sharp smack to my backside. The sound cracked through the night air.
I froze.
"That," he said, voice low and deliberate, "is for thinking you can walk away from me."
My face burned hotter than the sting on my skin. "You are insane."
"Maybe," he said, carrying me toward his waiting car, "but you're still not getting down."
