The moment I stepped into the room, it felt like the air had thickened, pressing against my chest like an invisible weight. My throat went dry, and an unsettling wave of familiarity washed over me. I knew this feeling—this heavy, suffocating presence.
It took me a few seconds to place it, my mind scrambling through memories, searching for where I had felt this aura before. And then, like a flash, it hit me—the grocery store.
The man from the grocery store.
The one with the piercing intensity, the one holding teenager's stuff at the cashier. My legs nearly gave out at the realization, but I forced myself to remain still. My heart pounded as I followed the bodyguard's silent command. He had merely gestured, a subtle flick of his fingers, but the meaning was clear—stand in the corner.
I obeyed.
The moment I moved, the man's gaze lifted from his phone, and for the first time, our eyes met.
I felt my breath hitch.
He was exactly how I remembered—dark, intense, unreadable. His sharp jawline and smooth, tanned skin gave him a polished yet dangerously rugged look. He sat like a king in his throne, his all-black attire only amplifying the authority that radiated from him. His fingers rested around a cup, moving in slow, controlled motions as he sipped.
His stare wasn't outright intimidating, but there was something about it—like he was capable of reading through me without effort.
I quickly looked away, fixing my gaze anywhere but on him. The silence in the room was unbearable, stretching on like a thin rope ready to snap.
Then, the door burst open.
The sudden shift in energy was instant. A man, younger-looking, with an infectious grin, strode in confidently. His mere presence disrupted the stifling atmosphere, replacing it with something much lighter.
"Julian!" he greeted, his voice filled with a casual warmth.
My head snapped up.
He just called him by his name?
I turned to the man I now knew as Julian, expecting some sort of reaction. But there was none. No annoyance, no anger, not even a flicker of emotion. He merely took another slow sip from his cup, as if the presence of this newcomer meant nothing.
That alone shocked me.
Who was this man that could address Julian informally and get away with it?
The contrast between them was striking. Where Julian was cold and unreadable, this man was all easy-going charm. His hair was slightly messy, a carefree look that somehow suited him. He carried himself with the kind of confidence that made it clear he was used to getting what he wanted.
And then, he turned to me.
His sharp brown eyes assessed me quickly, a smirk forming at the corner of his lips.
"And who do we have here?"
I stiffened under his gaze, my fingers curling into my palm. I didn't answer.
The owner of the club had warned me—don't touch him, don't show fear.
But she never said anything about the other guy.
His smirk deepened, as if entertained by my silence. Then, in the most nonchalant way possible, he turned to Julian.
"You didn't tell me we had a new waitress."
Julian didn't even glance up.
He was entirely indifferent, as if my presence was beneath his concern.
The man in front of me chuckled, his amusement growing.
"Well, in that case…" He turned back to me, his voice playful yet commanding.
"Get me a drink too."
I swallowed hard.
His request was simple, but the weight of the situation wasn't lost on me.
I had been warned that the workers were afraid of Julian, that some had gotten killed for making a wrong move. But what about this man? Was he just as dangerous?