Chapter 2: who is he?
Isla’s legs were trembling.
Her heart was beating against her ribs like it was trying to escape her chest.
The man’s eyes were locked on her, cold and piercing, the kind of stare that would make your skin forget how to breathe.
She took a step back, and he took a step forward.
The room was silent except for her shaky breathing. The guards were still standing like statues, waiting for orders. She could feel the danger heavily hanging in the air.
“Leave us,” the man said.
The two guards didn’t argue. They stepped out without a noise, pulling the curtain closed behind them and now she was alone with him.
Isla’s breath caught. She clutched her arms around herself, suddenly all too aware of the dress she was wearing. The room felt colder now, even though her body was filled with fear.
He took another step, and she took another back, until her back touched the wall.
“What’s your name?” His voice sounded so low, deep, and dangerous.
Her voice cracked as she answered, “Isla.” She hesitated.
He repeated it slowly. “Isla.” He rolled it on his tongue like it was strange, almost like he was tasting the word.
Then his eyes narrowed. “If you lie to me again,” he said, taking another step, “I’ll bury you myself.”
Her mouth fell open. “I’m not lying, please, I’m not who you think I am. I got lost. I’m not a stripper. I’m not anything. I was just at the club with my friend, I got turned around, and I found myself here.”
“You expect me to believe that?” He moved closer, now only a few feet from her. “You think I believe in coincidence? You think it's a chance you ended up in my room? Then what happened to the stripper I requested? Did you kill her?”
She swallowed and her throat became dry. “I swear… I don’t know who you are. I don’t even know what this place is. Please, let me go.”
Instead of replying, he suddenly leaned in, his face just inches from hers. Isla froze. She didn’t dare move. His scent hit her, he smelled something dark, like spice and smoke and it was Intoxicating.
“Dance,” he whispered. “You were doing so well earlier.”
“No… please.” She shook her head.
He lifted a hand brushing it along her jaw. She flinched. His fingers were rough and calloused.
“Then kiss me,” he said, voice a dark growl. “Kiss me, or I’ll make you.”
“Kiss me and prove to me that you are not here to kill me.” Fear clawed through her chest. Her lips parted slightly, and he tilted his head.
Slowly with her heart hammering, she leaned in. Their lips touched barely. It was a brush and he didn’t deepen it. He simply watched her.
His hand drifted lower, down her neck, along her collarbone, fingers trailing like fire across her skin. She shivered when his hand hovered near the top of her dress.
“Don’t,” she whispered.
But he didn’t stop. His fingers touched the fabric of her dress, tugging gently, and suddenly she felt exposed. Vulnerable. Like prey.
“You're a virgin?”
“Uhm.. yes.”
“Why are you dressed like sin if you’re a virgin when you're so scared of being touched?”
“I didn’t dress for this.” Isla's voice cracked.
He scanned her face, as if searching for something beneath all her fear. Something real. His hand paused at her waist.
He didn’t speak for a moment and then said, “You’re not lying.”
She blinked. “What?”
“You’re not lying,” he repeated more to himself than her and just like that, the air shifted. He took a step back.
Isla stood frozen with her heart still pounding.
“You’re different,” he muttered.
Then he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a small black card. No name. No design. Just an address in the middle.
He held it out and she didn’t move.
“Take it,” he said.
With a trembling hand, she took it.
He turned without another word and walked toward the curtain. The guards were already waiting. No one spoke. No one questioned, they just followed him, and just like that, he was gone.
Isla stood there, stunned. The room felt cold again, like all the heat had followed him out.
She looked at the card in her hand. The address was embossed in silver. Nothing else.
What just happened?
She immediately ran out of the room and when she finally stepped back into the chaos It felt like a different world. Music thudded through the floor again. People danced, laughed, and drank. No one knew what had just happened behind those velvet curtains.
“ISLA!”
She turned just in time to see Isolde storming toward her.
“Where the hell were you?” Isolde shouted, grabbing her arm. “I’ve been looking everywhere! You were gone for almost an hour!”
“I…” Isla looked down at the card in her hand. “I got lost.”
Isolde narrowed her eyes. “That’s it? You got lost?”
“I’m fine. I just… need to get out of here.”
“Bullshit!”
Isolde stared at her. “What happened?”
“Nothing.”
The lie tasted like ash in her mouth, but she couldn’t explain it. How could she? Who would believe her?
“Okay, babe. Let’s go.”
They left the club together. Isla didn’t speak a word. She just held the card in her hand, her fingers curling around it tighter with every step.
After they got back to the hotel Isla fell on the bed, staring at the ceiling. By the time she looked at her friend she was already fast asleep, snoring lightly.
The black card sat on the pillow next to her.
She picked it up again, reading the address over and over.
It felt like a dream. Like something from a movie. His touch still lingered on her skin. His voice still echoed in her ears.
Gosh why couldn't she just forget? And why did a part of her want to find out?
“Who the hell are you?” Gosh, why me? Why now?