Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Dominic

I paced behind the reflective surface of the office window, a restless predator in a tailored suit, movements sharp and deliberate. The room bore the scent of leather and aged whiskey, a contrast to the sweet, heady aromas rising from below. Yet my senses were trained on something far more intoxicating—the promise of knowledge about the woman who had unwittingly ensnared my attention.

I checked the sleek black phone that lay next to the keyboard for the umpteenth time, the screen's stillness mocking my urgency. The coiled tension in my muscles spoke volumes. I was a man accustomed to control, to having answers at my beck and call, yet here I was, at the mercy of a digital missive that held secrets I was desperate to uncover.

Alexa Monroe—a name that had started as a whisper, a simple curiosity, and had grown into an enigma that clawed at the edges of my disciplined mind. Who was this small-town girl turned Las Vegas dreamer? What was it about her innocence and genuine nature that had managed to pierce my armor?

As the seconds ticked by, my restlessness bordered on obsession, desire for knowledge, a flame that refused to be quenched.

My hand was steady as I dialed the familiar number, thumb pressing each digit with deliberate force. The quiet hum of the office seemed to buzz, mirroring the thrum of my own pulse. As the phone rang once, twice, the weight of the decision settled in my chest like lead.

"Willow, I need Alexa to work for me tomorrow."

Across the line, the pause was palpable, filled with Willow's unspoken surprise. She had been in this game long enough to recognize when a request veered off the well-trodden path.

"Alexa?" Her voice held a note of challenge, a mother hen's protectiveness ruffling its feathers. "But she's not?—"

"Make it happen," I cut through her objections, the two words an edict that brooked no argument. Yet there was something else, a shadow of eagerness I could not quite conceal.

"Is there a reason you're asking for her specifically, Dominic?" Willow's tone was laced with curiosity now, probing at the edges of my authority. It was a bold move, but then again, Willow had never been one to shy away from speaking her mind.

The silence stretched thin between us, charged with unvoiced questions. My eyebrow arched, a silent command that whispered of power and secrets best left unsaid.

"Just do it. And send her up when she's free."

There was a beat, a breath, and then the soft click of acquiescence. Willow would follow my orders; she always did. But the question lingered in the air, unasked yet hanging like smoke: what had sparked this sudden interest in the blond-haired girl whose innocence seemed so out of place in our world? If she only knew.

Time dripped like molten wax down the side of a forgotten candle as the night deepened its grip on the city. The club below was a churning sea of shadows and light, bodies melding into one pulsating entity under the strobe lights. Bass throbbed through the walls, a relentless heartbeat that mirrored my own mounting anticipation.

And then, as if summoned by my silent command, there was a soft knock at the door, barely audible over the music. It was a sound that sliced through the cacophony, making my heart lurch with a mixture of dread and desire.

"Enter."

The door opened, and Alexa stepped into the sanctum of my private world. Her presence was like a sudden drop in pressure, commanding the charged atmosphere to shift, to accommodate her essence. She moved with an unassuming grace, oblivious to the gravity she carried within her—a gravity that now pulled me in with an inexorable force.

Our eyes locked, and in that prolonged gaze, a silent conversation unfolded. I searched the depths of her bright-blue eyes, seeking out the innocence that drew me in, the genuine nature that seemed so at odds with the world I would soon rule.

"Ms. Monroe," I finally broke the silence, tone controlled yet laced with an undercurrent of something new, something dangerous. "Thank you for coming."

Alexa simply nodded.

"You will be working directly for me tomorrow. There are some men who will be coming to play poker and have a few drinks. You think you can handle that?"

I watched her for a reaction. It was unusual to throw someone so new into the deep end, but this was the perfect excuse to be close to her. I would take what I could get at this point.

"Of course, sir. I'll get everything set up. Will this be in your private room?"

I nodded.

"I've got it handled." She turned on her heel and reached for the door. "May I ask why you picked me? There are plenty of other girls…"

"Don't ask questions. Just enjoy the pay."

"Understood."

I watched as she opened the door and slipped out. This woman was going to be the death of me. I approached the expansive windows of the office, hands clasped behind my back—a silent sentinel surveying the club. There she was—Alexa Monroe heading back. Amid the revelry, she moved with an ease that belied her surroundings. I watched as men gravitated toward her, drawn by the same unspoken allure that had pricked my interest. They orbited her, moths to a flame, yet she did not falter beneath their gazes. She was a paradox, an enigma, commanding the space around her without demand.

My gaze, intense and unwavering, followed her every interaction, every tilt of her head, every curve of her smile. From this vantage point, I allowed myself the luxury of observation, of indulging in the enigmatic pull she wielded. It was a dangerous game, acknowledging this disturbance—like acknowledging a crack in the fortress I had meticulously built around myself.

I turned away from the window, the ghost of a frown etching my brow. The desire to decipher her, to unravel the mystery she presented, warred with the imperative to maintain the order of my world—a world that had no room for aberrations or sentiment. But as the night deepened, so too did the realization that this curiosity, this inexplicable draw, was not a tempest that would pass with the dawn. It was something far more formidable, a storm brewing on the horizon that threatened the very foundations of my control.

The dark expanse of my office seemed to close in around me, walls steeped in shadow mirroring the tumult of my emotions. I was the master of my domain, a man who dictated outcomes with ironclad certainty, yet there I stood, besieged by an unbidden yearning that refused to be quelled. My heart, a dormant entity behind fortified ribs, now hammered against its cage, syncopated with the pulsing lights that spilled from the streets below.

Each step toward the door was a pact forged in darkness, a silent vow to unveil the source of my fascination.

The descent was a calculated maneuver, each footfall muted as I navigated hallways rich with secrets. I emerged into the thrum of the club, the air thick with the scent of lust and the intoxicating rhythm of music that commanded bodies to sway. Shadows clung to me like a second skin, allies in my quest to remain unseen.

I found refuge in the dark corners, spaces untouched by the neon revelry, where I could drink in the sight of Alexa undetected. It was a vantage point that afforded me clarity, yet it was not the clarity I sought. Instead, it only sharpened the hunger, a visceral need to bridge the distance between us, to be the focus of her charm and grace.

But I was a man who knew the dangers of indulgence, of allowing desire to cloud judgment. And so, I willed myself to stand sentinel in the shadows, a silent observer caught in the gravity of her orbit, determined to unravel the mystery she represented—without succumbing to its pull.

I slipped through the pulsating heart of my dominion. Bodies writhed in rhythm, skin glistening under strobe lights that painted every sin in vibrant hues. Half-naked women moved with serpentine grace, their laughter piercing the smoky haze, as they draped themselves over patrons like vines on ancient ruins.

Yet I, the architect of this chaos, drifted untouched by its seduction. My presence cut through the crowd, a silent command that parted the sea of flesh without a word spoken. Eyes followed me, some with desire, others with the recognition of power, but all quickly averted under the weight of my gaze. The air seemed to shift around me, an invisible cloak that shielded me from the grasping hands and wanton invitations.

In the far corner, where shadows danced intimately with light, I found my sanctuary. It was a niche carved out of sight, a watcher's haven. Here, I was a ghost, my commanding form shrouded in darkness, eyes fixed on the unwitting subject of my tumultuous contemplation.

From this sequestered vantage, my gaze found Alexa. There she was, amid the wolves, yet none could touch the lamb. They circled, drawn to her light, but it was clear she did not belong to them. As she interacted, her gestures spoke of a genuine tenderness, a stark contrast to the feigned affections paraded elsewhere.

My anticipation grew, a knot tightening in my chest. I watched as men vied for her attention, each one seemingly entranced by her gentle disposition. There was an art to her avoidance of advances, a skill that drew my begrudging respect. She was an enigma wrapped in simplicity, a puzzle my mind ached to solve. In a world where genuineness was currency so rare it bordered on myth, Alexa radiated a truth that was both alluring and disarming.

With every bout of laughter that escaped Alexa's lips, with every sincere smile she bestowed upon those unworthy men, a crack formed in my composure. I felt myself inching forward, almost imperceptibly, driven by a yearning that defied logic. I was a man accustomed to control, but Alexa—she was an anomaly, a challenge to his dominance, a flame to my moth.

I was a man who commanded respect and instilled fear with merely a glance, but I now found myself held captive by the sheer force of a girl whose only weapon was her authenticity.

As Alexa continued to weave her spell over the patrons, oblivious to the dark angel watching from afar, my fascination grew. It was not just desire—it was a primal recognition that in this girl lay a power that could very well be my undoing.

Willow sliced through my rapt attention, her expression a tangle of concern and disapproval. Her plump lips were drawn tight, her arms crossed over her chest as if shielding herself from whatever battle lay ahead.

"Dom," she started, her voice firm despite the visible trepidation that flickered in her eyes, "we need to talk about Alexa."

I leaned back, steeling myself for the confrontation. Willow had a maternal shield she raised high for every girl under her wing.

"I assure you—" I began, but she cut me off with a sharp wave of her hand.

"Assurances aren't what I'm looking for, Dom," she interjected. "You know I don't question your decisions lightly, but when it comes to the girls…"

I observed her—the unyielding guardian whose loyalty had earned her a place by my side long before my reign over the club had begun. I respected her, valued her, and in this moment, I recognized the weight of trust she placed upon me.

"Let's not dance around this," I said, voice carrying the low rumble of thunder, a sound that commanded attention without raising its volume. "You're worried about my intentions."

Her nod was curt, a silent confirmation of her fears. I saw the resolve in her eyes, the readiness to protect Alexa from any threat, even if it meant standing up to me. It was a testament to her character, and it only solidified my respect for her.

"Understood. I'll ensure her safety and comfort are paramount."

Willow's stance softened ever so slightly, her skeptical guard lowering just enough to allow the possibility that my interest in Alexa wasn't a predatorial whim. But the hesitation lingered, a shadow that clung to the edges of her acquiescence.

"You've been with us long enough to understand that I don't act without reason. Alexa… she's not just another girl dancing out there. There's something about her—a light that hasn't been dimmed by this city."

My eyes remained fixed on Willow, steady and unyielding.

"She intrigues me," I continued, each word measured and deliberate. "I want to understand what keeps that flame inside her burning so brightly, despite the darkness she's surrounded by."

The silence stretched between us, heavy with unspoken thoughts. Willow's stance remained guarded, but the faintest flicker of curiosity sparked in her eyes.

"You want to get to know her?" Willow finally asked, her voice tinged with skepticism, yet a hint of intrigue had seeped into her tone. "Just how do you intend to do that without scaring the poor girl away? "

My lips curved into a half smile, acknowledging the challenge. "Carefully…"

"Alright, Dominic. But my job is to protect her from the dangers of this club, so remember that."

"Always."

She excused herself.

You're not the devil she thinks you are… Just a man. Show her that. Let her see who you truly are. Not the king of this dark castle, but the man beneath the crown.