Meadow's POV
A nervous laugh slipped past my lips, brittle and wrong, even as sweat gathered at the base of my neck.
"What do you mean by that?"
I said it lightly, like the words didn't matter. Like the name hadn't already sunk deep into my chest and begun to squeeze.
Alaric Ashford.
I told myself it was just a coincidence. A cruel one, sure, but still just a coincidence. Big city. Expensive club. Powerful men liked expensive places.
But my heart didn't believe that lie.
I had never seen his face before tonight. But I'd heard his name often enough, usually in Tyler's voice, laced with a mixture of resentment and fear. Tyler had complained about him endlessly. About the impossible standards. The cold stare. The way grown men straightened like chastised boys when Alaric entered a room.
"He's a monster," Tyler had once said with a laugh that hadn't reached his eyes. "A soulless bastard in a designer suit."
Funny how I'd believed Tyler then.
There was no way this was happening.
No way that after running from my wedding night, barefoot and broken, I'd stumbled into the same club owned by my ex-fiancé's boss.
And there was absolutely no way his attention was locked entirely on me.
I glanced back up toward the balcony.
He hadn't moved.
He leaned against the railing like it was his throne, his body half-consumed by shadow, his presence unmistakable. I couldn't see his face clearly, but I didn't need to. I could feel his gaze like a physical thing, heavy, deliberate, stripping.
Not curiosity.
Not interest.
Hunger.
My skin prickled. My pulse stumbled, then raced.
I grabbed the shot glass in front of me and downed it without tasting it, welcoming the burn as it scorched its way down my throat. I slammed the glass onto the bar harder than necessary.
"Again."
The bartender didn't move. Instead, he shook his head once, firm. "I can't."
My brows drew together. "Since when?"
"Since now."
I scoffed, irritation flaring hot and fast. "You don't get to decide that."
His expression tightened, eyes flicking past me for half a second before returning to my face. "I've been told not to serve you anymore."
My stomach twisted. "Told by who?"
He nodded subtly toward the balcony.
I laughed, the sound sharp and unsteady. "That's bullshit. I didn't see him talk to you."
"He didn't have to."
The alcohol buzzed in my head, loosening my tongue but sharpening my emotions. "What is he, your boss?" I mocked, my head tipping back too far as the room swayed. "You two just tag-teaming control over my night?"
"He owns the club," the bartender said quietly. "Which makes him my boss."
Cold seeped into my bones.
I turned around too quickly, my vision blurring as I searched the balcony.
Empty.
My breath left me in a rush.
He was gone.
A strange mix of relief and disappointment tangled in my chest. Part of me had been ready, itching, to march upstairs and unload every ounce of anger and humiliation still burning inside me. To tell him exactly what he could do with his silent authority.
I turned back to the bar, mouth opening.And stopped.
A man in black stood at my side as if he'd always been there. He slid a cold bottle of water across the counter toward me.
"Mr. Ashford would like to see you."
I stared at the bottle. Then at him.
He wore dark glasses despite the flashing lights, his posture rigid, unreadable.
"Who the hell are you?" I slurred.
"Security," he replied. "Drink. Then come with me."I snorted. "Let me guess. He doesn't like waiting."
"He doesn't."
I hopped down from the stool, intending to walk away instead. Anywhere but toward another man who thought he could summon me.
But a firm hand closed around my arm.
"What the hell?" I snapped, trying to yank free.His grip didn't tighten, but it didn't loosen either.
"Drink," he said again, unscrewing the cap and setting the bottle back in front of me.
I stared at it, my thoughts racing.
Running wasn't an option. Not like this. My legs already felt heavy, my balance unreliable. And something told me that men like Alaric Ashford didn't let things, or people, slip away once they'd decided otherwise.
Reluctantly, I grabbed the bottle and drank, swallowing until the cool water steadied me, grounding me just enough."What now?" I muttered.
"You follow me."
The stairs felt longer than they should have, the bass from the club fading with each step upward. Hallways twisted and turned, revealing just how massive the place really was, private, exclusive, built for power and secrecy.
We stopped in front of a door labeled VIP LOUNGE."Of course," I murmured. "VIP."
The door opened.Cold air swept over me instantly, sharp enough to raise goosebumps along my arms and spine. It cut straight through the thin fabric of my clothes, making my skin ache.
And then, that feeling again.
I didn't have to look to know.I turned slowly.
Alaric Ashford sat in the corner like a king carved from shadow, legs spread, posture relaxed in a way that radiated control. A woman knelt between his knees, her movements unmistakable, but he wasn't watching her.He was watching me.
My breath caught painfully in my chest. Heat pooled low in my stomach, traitorous and unwelcome. I hated my body for responding.
Hated myself for noticing the way his hand fisted in her hair, the way his attention never wavered from me for even a second.
"Leave." The word was smooth. Absolute.The woman scrambled to her feet immediately, brushing past me as she fled without a glance back.
I stood frozen as Alaric adjusted himself, the dim lighting catching on metal where there shouldn't have been metal. My gaze snapped away too late, my cheeks burning.
He rose.
Tall. Broad. Dominant. Each step he took toward me felt measured, deliberate. I stepped back instinctively, again and again, until the wall pressed cold and unyielding against my spine.
My heart hammered violently.
Now I could see him clearly.
Dark hair. Sharp features. Eyes so empty they were terrifying.
His gaze dragged over me slowly, thoroughly, lingering on my chest, my legs, my face, as if cataloging me.
My breath hitched. Then he smiled.
"I thought I'd need more time to be certain," he said calmly, his voice deep and dangerous, sliding under my skin like a blade. "But it appears I was wrong."
He stopped just inches away, his presence overwhelming.
"Hello, Meadow Russell."
My name sounded different on his tongue.
Like a promise.
Like a threat.