It had been a week since the incident that had left both Ace and Iris unsettled, each grappling with their emotions in different ways.
For Iris, life at the mansion continued much as it always had, but with a deliberate and painful shift.
She had become even more diligent in her duties, pouring herself into every task as if hoping that hard work could scrub away the ache in her chest.
Every morning, before the first rays of sunlight painted the sky, she would rise, tying her apron with practiced precision before stepping into the halls that had become both her shelter and her prison.
She moved through the mansion like a ghost—silent, efficient, unseen.
Every corner was cleaned until it gleamed, every surface polished to perfection.
Even when she prepared meals, she worked quietly, never lingering longer than necessary, never drawing attention to herself.
It was as if she had melted into the very walls of the grand estate, no longer a person but a mere presence—there, yet invisible.
Conversations with the other staff members were minimal, her interactions reduced to the occasional polite nod or murmured response.
No one seemed to notice the way her shoulders sagged ever so slightly when she thought no one was looking, or the way she clenched her hands into fists when her emotions threatened to spill over.
No one except Melinda.
Melinda had a soft spot for Iris.
She would sometimes place an extra slice of bread on her plate during mealtime or pause long enough to give her a gentle pat on the back when the workload became overwhelming.
But even Melinda’s warmth couldn’t reach the growing coldness that Iris had wrapped around herself like a protective shield.
After that night, Ace had moved her to the maid’s quarters— an action that spoke volumes even if he hadn’t explicitly said anything.
The distance was clear, the separation final.
Gone were the quiet, stolen moments where she could at least exist in the same space as him, no matter how insignificant she may have been in his eyes.
Now, she was truly just another worker in the mansion, no different from the rest.
Whenever she knew Ace was in the mansion, Iris made sure to stay out of sight.
She remembered his words all too well: to keep her distance, to not think of their brief moment of closeness as anything significant. And she obeyed.
But the memory of that night still lingered like an open wound.
The warmth of his arms, the steadiness of his touch, the unexpected gentleness in his voice— it had all felt so real, so solid, like a glimpse of something she had always longed for.
And then, in an instant, it had been ripped away, leaving nothing but cold emptiness in its place.
She had shed tears over it, though she tried her best to hide them.
Alone in the dimly lit quarters, she would press a pillow against her face, muffling the sounds of her quiet sobs, ashamed of how much it still hurt.
For years, she had carried a foolish, secret belief that maybe, just maybe, Ace would see her.
That he would care for her, even in the smallest of ways. But that fragile hope had been shattered beyond repair.
Now, all that remained was the reality she had to accept: She was nothing to him.
For Ace, however, the situation was far more complicated than he let on.
Despite the coldness of his words and the harshness of his actions, he found himself constantly thinking about Iris.
He told himself it was nothing, that it was just a passing thought, but deep down, he knew better.
There was something about her that he couldn’t shake, a pull that drew him toward her even when he tried to push her away.
It was her eyes, he realized—those deep, calm eyes that seemed to hold a world of unspoken thoughts and emotions.
It was a feeling that unsettled him, one that he both loved and hated—loved because it was a rare comfort in his turbulent life, hated because it threatened to unravel the control he so desperately clung to.
Every day, he told himself that he didn’t care where she was or what she was doing, but his actions betrayed him.
He found himself listening for her, catching glimpses of her whenever she passed by.
It irritated him how easily she occupied his thoughts, how he would pause in the middle of a conversation because he thought he heard her voice.
He would watch from afar, his gaze lingering on her as she worked, her movements graceful and efficient.
Her presence called out to him in a way that no one else’s did, and it left him grappling with emotions he wasn’t sure how to handle.
It irritated him, though he had no right to feel that way.
Wasn’t this exactly what he had asked for?
Hadn’t he told her to keep her distance?
Then why did it feel like a mistake?
Every day, he struggled with his desire to see her and his need to maintain his composure.
As the days passed, the tension between them remained unspoken but palpable, an invisible string pulling them together even as they fought to stay apart.
It was a battle Ace wasn’t sure he could win, but one thing was certain— he wasn’t ready to lose, either.
Iris POV:
What’s the point of living in a place like this—so grand and yet so empty—when you can’t even have a simple conversation with another person?
Lifeless, that’s what they are. Every single one of them.
I’ve never been much of a talker myself, but these people?
They move around like ghosts, silent and detached, as if they exist only to serve and then disappear into the walls.
They move around like shadows, silent and detached, as if they’re not even really here.
Except for Melinda.
She’s the only one who seems to notice me, who bothers to say a few words now and then.
But today, I’ve decided that I can’t take it anymore. I can’t just keep drifting through this place like a ghost.
I’ve made up my mind—I’m going to talk to the boss.
It’s been a week. A week of silence. A week of avoiding him.
A week of hoping—praying—that Noah would come and take me away from this place.
But no one’s coming.
I can’t stay trapped in this endless cycle, surrounded by quiet indifference and him.
So I’m going to face him.
Ace.
Even though he told me not to.
Even though every instinct in my body screams at me to stay away.
How bad can it really go? It’s not like he’s going to shoot me.
Right?
Maybe he’ll snap, maybe he’ll yell, maybe he’ll throw me out onto the streets. I can handle that.
I’ve faced worse in life than raised voices and harsh words.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
I Am Going to Die. I AM GOING TO DIE.
God, save me! Please!
I swear, next time—if there even is a next time—I will never, ever speak to him again. Just this once, just this moment, save me!
Panic crashes over me like a violent wave, drowning every rational thought in sheer, unrelenting terror.
My legs feel like they’ve turned to stone, my body frozen in place.
The room suddenly feels too small, suffocating, as if the walls are closing in on me.
The dim lighting casts harsh shadows across Ace’s face, emphasizing the cold lines of his expression, the absolute emptiness in his gaze.
And then there’s the gun.
Pointed straight at me.
The cold barrel presses against my forehead, unforgiving and absolute, a silent promise that this could be my last breath.
I don’t dare to move, don’t even blink.
Ace’s face is carved from stone, unreadable and merciless, but his eyes—God, his eyes—are what truly freeze me in place.
They are dead.
Not just cold. Not just angry.
Dead.
A hollow abyss swallows whatever soul he once had, and I realize— he wouldn’t hesitate.
Not for a second.
This isn’t a warning. This isn’t a scare tactic.
If I make the wrong move, say the wrong thing, I will die.
My heartbeat pounds in my ears, so loud I wonder if he can hear it too.
I barely remember why I came here, why I had been so foolishly determined to speak to him.
Why I thought that, somehow, I could make things better.
I had walked in expecting indifference, maybe even anger. But this?
This is a death sentence.
He was no longer the man I thought I knew.
"Tell me," his voice is smooth, low, and dangerous. Each syllable is a coil tightening around my throat. "Will you pay the remaining amount for your so-called friend, Piccola Ragazza?"
I shake my head— frantic, desperate, unable to form words.
My throat is too dry, my tongue useless. The very thought of speaking feels impossible.
The motion only makes the gun press deeper into my skin. My stomach twists violently.
This... this all stemmed from a single, stupid question.
I had asked about Noah.
I had hoped—so foolishly hoped—that he would come for me, take me away from this place.
I had thought, somehow, that Noah would be my salvation.
That maybe, just maybe, I wasn’t as alone as I felt.
But now?
That hope seems absurd.
Noah is gone.
And I… I am broke. Completely and utterly broke.
How could I possibly pay millions?
Ace watches me, his expression filled with nothing but contempt. His disgust is a living thing, wrapping around me, suffocating.
"You know your so-called friend Noah is nowhere to be found, and I am stuck with you—" he spits the words, his voice dripping with venom, "which is useless."
Useless.
My hands tremble, nails digging into my palms. Useless.
I have been called many things before, but somehow, hearing it from him hurts more than it should.
"So get out of my sight before I put all six bullets in your head!"
The finality in his voice is like a slap across the face. The room sways, my legs barely holding me up.
For a moment, I wonder if he would actually do it. If he would really pull the trigger.
And then I realize... he would.
He isn’t bluffing.
My breath comes in shallow gasps, my chest rising and falling too quickly. Tears blur my vision, but I refuse to let them fall.
No... I can't stay here... with him... No, no. I can't raise my hope again and get it crushed.
Desperation claws at me, pushing me to my knees as I clasp my hands together in a plea for mercy.
"Then please kill me. I don't care how painful it will be, but I just can't anymore... kill me," I whisper. My voice is so small, so fragile, that it barely makes a sound.
But I know he hears it. I know he hears me.
I look up at him, my vision clouded by tears.
But his expression remains cold and unyielding, as if I were nothing more than a speck of dust in his path.
The man I once thought I understood is gone, replaced by someone I don’t recognize.
Someone who doesn’t care.
The silence stretches between us, thick and unbearable. I wait, breath held and waiting.
Will he do it? Will this be it?
And then—
Without a word, Ace turns on his heel and walks out of the mansion, his heavy footsteps echoing through the hallways.
He doesn’t look back.
He doesn’t say another word.
And with that single action, he leaves me behind in a silence so thick it feels like it’s closing in on me.
The door clicks shut.
My heart shatters into a million pieces.
The tears I had been holding back finally burst forth, cascading down my cheeks.
I want to go home. To my brother.
He promised he would be back.
And I have to be there for Helen.
But how can I escape this place…..When the very person keeping me here just walked away?
Ace POV:
What the fuck is happening to me? What the fuck is wrong with me?
The questions hammered in my mind like gunfire, relentless and unyielding.
No matter how much I tried to shove them away, they refused to be silenced.
The anger I had felt earlier—sharp, blistering, all-consuming—had come out of nowhere, triggered by nothing more than a simple, foolish question from her lips.
Noah.
Just the sound of his name from her mouth had sent me spiraling into fury.
It had been innocent enough— just a mere mention, a simple inquiry— but it had flipped a switch inside me that I hadn’t even realized existed.
I had seen red, my body moving on instinct, my gun in my hand before I even processed it.
The cold steel had pressed against her forehead, the weight of it solid and real, as real as the fear in her wide, gold-flecked brown eyes.
I had stood there, towering over her, watching the terror drain the color from her face, and I had felt… nothing.
Why?
Why did the thought of her leaving make me feel so goddamn enraged?
Her presence in the mansion had changed nothing significant in my life.
If anything, she was just another face, another person doing their job, another shadow moving through the halls.
She wasn’t supposed to matter.
She wasn’t supposed to be anything more than a debt, a burden, a temporary inconvenience until I decided what to do with her.
And now, I was here, driving aimlessly through the city streets, gripping the steering wheel so hard my knuckles were white.
The car’s engine purred beneath me, the only sound grounding me to reality as I wove through the traffic, uncaring of the signals, of the people, of the world outside.
She was a puzzle I couldn’t solve, a riddle with no answer.
If she were just another manipulative girl trying to worm her way into my world, or leveraging something to get what she wanted.
She wouldn’t be falling apart at the seams, whispering prayers under her breath like she still believed someone—anyone—would save her.
But no one was coming. No one will ever come.
I gritted my teeth, my fingers flexing against the steering wheel as frustration clawed at me from the inside out.
This was dangerous. This was messy.
I needed control.
I thrived on it. Lived by it. It was the only thing keeping me sane in a world filled with chaos and betrayal.
And yet, every time I looked at Iris. Her eyes.
I felt like I was losing it.
But no matter how fast I drove, no matter how far I went, I couldn’t escape the truth that was slowly dawning on me.
And that scared the hell out of me.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It had been two days since I last saw her, and I was staying at Hudson's mansion.
Every evening, no matter where the day had taken us, we ended up here. It was a ritual, an unspoken agreement among us all.
The clock read 6:30 in the morning, and I was lost in my thoughts, replaying the events and emotions that had been consuming me.
My mind was a tangled mess of confusion and frustration, and I couldn’t seem to untangle it.
The sight of Iris’s tear-streaked face, the desperation in her eyes—it was all so vivid, so unsettling.
Suddenly, Leo’s hand shook my shoulder vigorously; I hate it when he does that.
“Earth to you, Ace! Where are you lost?” he asked, his voice tinged with concern.
Everyone was looking at me expectantly, their gazes heavy with curiosity.
I shrugged off their attention and resumed my workout, pushing myself through the routine with a mechanical precision.
They began murmuring among themselves, their words a faint hum in the background.
“Are you okay, man? You’re acting weird these days, like... I don’t know, can’t pinpoint a word for it,” Leo said, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
“Like he’s in love,” Alex chimed in, his voice laced with amusement.
Yeah he's Shakespeare or, I say nerdy in the group. Stupid.
This turmoil inside me was too complex to be reduced to a simple emotion like love. It wasn’t about romance or any of that nonsense.
I was the only one in our group who didn’t have a girlfriend, a crush, or any of the drama that seemed to come with relationships.
Aiden was happily coupled up with Susan, their relationship a picture-perfect childhood sweetheart story.
Felix, on the other hand, had a rotation of casual flings, treating relationships with a detachment I couldn’t quite fathom.
Then there were Leo and Liam.
Their dynamic was different, a subtle tension that neither of them openly acknowledged, but it was there, palpable and unresolved.
And Alex and Hudson—well, they were a mystery unto themselves. I think so.
“That’s rubbish. Can’t you all just shut the fuck up and work out?” I growled, my annoyance barely concealed. The irritation in my voice was a thin veil over the frustration I felt.
“Nope! Everyone is not like you, Ace—always quiet and grumpy,” Hudson said, his smirk widening. He had a knack for pushing my buttons.
“Come on, you’re joking, right? He’s really not in love, right?” Aiden asked, his expression a mix of confusion and curiosity.
“EVERYONE, 20 more rounds and push-ups!” Liam’s voice cut through the conversation, authoritative and commanding.
He was the trainer of the group.
The group groaned collectively, and Aiden whined like a fucking toddler. “Do we have to? We just finished a set!”
“Stop whining and start moving,” Liam snapped, his gaze sweeping over us with a steely determination.
Later, as I was getting ready in my room, Leo and Felix barged in without knocking. Their intrusion was typical, but I was in no mood for their antics.
“Hey, Ace,” Felix began, his grin mischievous. “We’ve been thinking.”
“That’s never good,” I muttered, continuing to get dressed, trying to ignore them.
“Come on, hear us out,” Leo said, his attempt at seriousness failing as his amusement shone through. “We’ve got a plan to figure out what’s been going on with you lately.”
I sighed, knowing they wouldn’t leave me alone until I listened. “Fine. What’s your brilliant plan?”
“You’ve been acting strange, man,” Felix said, his tone more serious now. “We just want to help. Maybe you need a break, something to clear your head.”
“Or someone,” Leo added with a wink and a nudge.
I rolled my eyes. “I don’t need a break, and I definitely don’t need someone. I’m fine. Just drop it.”
“I have work to do, unlike clubbing and flirting all day,” I said bluntly.
“That hurts, but you’re my asshole friend. So! I will let that slide, and you’re coming because we told you that’s why,” Leo said with a grin that was annoyingly infectious.
Felix, sensing my hesitation, dragged Leo out while shouting, "OK, meet you at 7 at our usual club."
As they left, I sighed. Maybe a night out wouldn't be so bad.
I did need some stress relief.
Iris POV:
I rubbed my eyes groggily as I woke up from my nap, the haziness of sleep still lingering. I was relieved to find that I had completed all my work for the day.
The brief respite was a small but welcome relief in the midst of my monotonous routine.
"You're awake..." a voice suddenly said, causing me to jump out of the bed in fear. Melinda emerged from the bathroom, looking concerned.
"Oh! Sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you OK?" she asked, her face etched with worry.
"Yeah... I am OK, but... but... what happened? How did you... come here?" I asked anxiously, trying to piece together the fragments of my disoriented mind.
"I saw you looking tired. So, I came to check up on you, but your bathroom tap was open slightly," she explained, laughing.
I stared at her in confusion. "Why... are you... laughing?"
"When I came inside, I saw you were sucking your thumb while sleeping. It just reminded me of a baby who stops crying after getting milk," she said, laughing heartily.
I was mortified, thinking of how to kill myself after this embarrassing situation.
I thought I had stopped that habit.
"Ma’am, don’t tell anyone about this," I pleaded, my face burning with embarrassment.
"Oh, no worries, dear. Your dirty little secret is safe with me," Melinda said, her grin mischievous but reassuring.
What secret?
"I thought no one liked me here... but maybe you like me?" I asked, a note of hope creeping into my voice.
"Well, dear, I don’t know about others, but I’ve always liked you. The boss doesn’t bring many girls into the house, and if he does, they’re always bitches and hoes. But you’re not like them. He even allowed you inside his bedroom," Melinda said, handing me a glass of water.
The mention of Ace allowing me into his bedroom made my cheeks burn even more.
"Maybe I don’t understand half of the words you said... but you liking me means so much to me, ma’am," I said, my voice tinged with relief and happiness.
"You're kinda funny, Iris. And call me Mel, not ma’am. It sounds... weird to me," Melinda said, shrugging with a smile.
"Well, calling a 50-year-old woman by her name... it feels disrespectful, ma’am," I said, scratching my arm awkwardly.
"Your parents raised you so well... OK then... call me Chef. That’s respectful and appropriate for my age," she mumbled, smiling warmly.
She's funny and I love it.
The day unfolded with a surprising amount of joy. We spent it talking, cooking together, and eating together.
It felt like a small but significant break from the loneliness I had been experiencing.
Later, she even comb my wavy- curly hair, and it felt incredibly soothing. She marveled at its thickness and natural black color.
Well, luckily genetics.
My mother was Indian, and my dad was American.
So, yeah, I inherited my mother’s features—short height, thick, curly-wavy mix, inky-black hair that always seemed too heavy for my head, and cheeks that had once been round and full.
When I was younger, my mother used to cup them between her hands, pressing soft kisses to my forehead, calling me her "baby pig."
Chubby, soft, well-fed.
But that was before.
Now, my cheeks weren’t as full. The small tummy I used to complain about in the mirror was shrinking too, slowly disappearing with every missed meal.
So, Our day continued in the same joyous rhythm: happy, happy, and happy.
It was a day filled with simple pleasures, shared smiles, and the kind of happiness that lingers in your heart long after the day has ended.
Author POV:
The club's ambiance was a blend of dim lighting and neon glow, creating an atmosphere that was both seductive and chaotic.
The air was thick with the mingling scents of perfume and alcohol, while the pulsating beats of the music seemed to reverberate through the walls and floors.
Scantily clad dancers moved rhythmically on stage, their bodies illuminated by shifting lights.
Ace and his friends entered the club, their laughter and banter barely audible over the thumping music.
Felix clapped Ace on the shoulder, his voice almost lost in the cacophony. "Ace, you need to relax, man. Tonight’s about letting loose."
Ace nodded absentmindedly, his gaze scanning the room. Despite the vibrant surroundings and the crowd’s energy, his mind remained elsewhere.
The allure of the club did little to distract him from the tumultuous thoughts swirling in his head.
Ace sat boringly in a VIP section, a glass of scotch in his hand, observing the crowd with an indifferent gaze.
Women danced, men drank, laughter and murmurs blended into the music.
It was all routine, predictable. Mechanical.
Until she caught his eye.
His gaze narrowed, locking onto a particular dancer— an exquisite woman with long, dark hair and strikingly large, expensive eyes.
She moved with a grace that seemed to captivate the entire room.
Felix, noticing his line of sight, grinned and nudged his shoulder.
“That’s Athena. One of the best here.” He tilted his head toward her, watching as she twirled, her dark locks cascading over her back. “You want an introduction?”
Without waiting for Ace’s response, Felix gestured to a nearby waiter.
A few quiet words were exchanged, the waiter nodded, then disappeared into the sea of people.
Moments later, he returned with Athena walking beside him, her presence commanding in its quiet confidence.
“Ace, this is Athena,” Felix introduced with a sly smirk. “Athena, this is Ace.”
Athena regarded him with a slow, assessing gaze, her full lips curling into a small smile. “Nice to meet you, Sir.”
Ace let his gaze linger on her, studying her, reading her.
“Likewise,” he said finally. Then, in a voice edged with something unreadable, he added, “Can we talk somewhere more private?”
She nodded once and without another word, she turned, leading him through a hidden hallway, past velvet curtains, until they reached a secluded lounge tucked away from prying eyes and curious ears.
The bass of the music still thrummed faintly in the background, but the world felt quieter here, more intimate.
Ace sank into the plush leather couch, his legs spread wide and exhaled deeply.
Athena moved to sit beside him, but before she could, his voice cut through the air.
“No,” he said simply, his tone carrying an unspoken command.
He pointed between his legs, the space in front of him. “Sit here.”
Her smirk didn’t falter, but there was something different in her eyes now.
Amusement, excitement, a flicker of curiosity.
And yet, she obeyed without question, lowering herself onto her knees in front of him, her hands resting gently on her lap as she awaited his next move.
Just as she had been trained to do.
Ace extended his hand slowly, pressing his palm flat against her throat, his fingers warm but firm.
He could feel the delicate pulse beneath his touch, steady but slightly elevated.
Dragging his hand upward, he traced the curve of her jaw, watching as she swallowed hard.
She held his gaze. He liked that.
Leaning down, he brought his face closer to her hers, examining her features.
Big, brown eyes. Pink, firm lips. Dark, black hair. Tanned skin.
But she was thin. Too thin.
“Athena,” he murmured, his voice as smooth as silk, but carrying an undertone that sent shivers down her spine.
Her breath hitched slightly, but she maintained her composure.
“He’s a lunatic, so handle him carefully.” The bartender’s warning echoed in her mind.
But Athena had dealt with dangerous men before.
Ace’s fingers slid down to his ankle holster, smoothly retrieving a small, gleaming knife.
The cold steel caught the dim light of the room, casting a sharp glint.
He twirled it between his fingers with practiced ease before pressing the tip lightly against her throat.
She exhaled, her breath shaky but controlled.
“You know,” he mused, his voice almost conversational, “I’ve seen thousands of eyes in my life. Gray, blue, green. Multiple colors. And none of them ever made me curious.”
His grip on the knife tightened, the blade tilting slightly against her throat.
Not enough to draw blood, but enough to be felt. Enough to remind her of its presence.
She didn’t flinch, but he could see it in her widened eyes— she was afraid. And yet, she stayed still.
“A simple brown eye,” he continued, his voice taking on an almost reflective tone. “Just an ordinary brown eye with gold flecks is making me frustrated and angry.”
Clicking his tongue, he exhaled sharply, reaching up to grip his hair tightly in frustration.
Athena gasped as he abruptly tilted her chin up.
He clicked his tongue, dragging the knife slowly toward the delicate skin beneath her eye.
“I want to claw it out,” he murmured, almost as if he were speaking to himself. “Till I feel the tension and anger in my body subside.”
A small, involuntary whimper escaped Athena’s lips.
It was quiet, barely audible, but in the heavy silence between them, it echoed like a scream.
The bass of the club music outside vibrated through the walls, muffling the sound of the outside world.
“Are you afraid?” Ace asked but his grip on her jaw tightened just enough to make her wince.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, the words leaving her lips shakily, like a confession.
Good. She should be.
Ace could see it in her wide, doe-like eyes— eyes that reflected the dim, golden glow of the club lights, wide with fear but not yet glazed over with panic.
He had seen this expression countless times before.
Fear was predictable, a language he understood better than most.
It was raw, instinctual, universal.
And yet, for the first time, it didn’t stir anything inside him. No thrill. No satisfaction.
He let out a slow breath through his nose, his jaw tightening.
Because the last time he had seen fear in someone’s eyes—genuine, bone-deep fear—it hadn’t felt like this. It had felt... different.
Iris.
Ace’s stomach twisted in irritation. The memory of her surfaced, unbidden.
But unlike Athena, unlike anyone else, Iris’ eyes had held something far more unsettling than fear.
Resignation.
Hope.
Like she wouldn’t mind dying by his hands.
Athena swallowed, as if she sensed the shift in his mood.
“Do you hate my eyes?” she asked nervously, her voice tentative, like she was afraid of the answer.
Afraid of what it would mean if he said yes.
The corners of his lips curled downward into a slight frown. He studied her, his expression unreadable.
He supposed most men would be enchanted by the shape of her eyes, the way they framed her delicate features, the way they glimmered beneath the dim lights.
Athena had the kind of beauty that was intentional— calculated, perfected, designed to attract attention.
And yet, staring into them, Ace felt emptiness.
Iris’ eyes had been the problem.
He clenched his jaw, a muscle ticking beneath his skin. The realization was bitter, an unwelcome intrusion in his already chaotic thoughts.
His grip on Athena’s jaw tightened for a split second before he abruptly pushed her face away with an air of boredom, forcing her to stumble slightly before regaining her balance.
“I fucking despise them,” he finally spat, his tone laced with something close to disgust.
Athena frowned slightly, confusion flickering in her expression.
But Ace ignored her reaction.
He leaned back against the plush couch, dragging a hand through his dark hair, his fingers briefly gripping the strands in frustration before letting go.
Why?
Why did Iris' eyes affect him like this?
Athena’s were brown, too—perfectly sculpted, striking in their own right.
But when he looked into them, he felt nothing.
No tension coiling in his gut. No inexplicable sense of unease.
No quiet, suffocating sense of longing.
Iris’ eyes had made him feel something foreign, something he didn’t want to acknowledge.
“Sir,” Athena’s voice cut through his thoughts again, more insistent this time. “Are you with me?”
Ace exhaled sharply through his nose, tilting his head slightly as if shaking off a phantom.
He nodded absentmindedly, but his focus wasn’t truly on her.
It was elsewhere, miles away from the dimly lit club, trapped in the cold corridors of his mansion.
His mind was back in those quiet halls, watching Iris move like a whisper, always keeping her distance.
She had perfected the art of avoidance, slipping through doorways just as he entered, lowering her gaze whenever their paths crossed.
It was both irritating and... intriguing.
He despised it. That unreadable expression she wore when she thought he wasn’t watching.
It wasn’t lust—no, that would have been easy.
It was something heavier, something that coiled in his gut like a slow-burning ember.
“Can I touch you, sir?” she asked.
He hummed, staring at her. There was no hunger, no possessiveness in his stare.
As Athena’s hands roamed over his body, Ace’s thoughts continued to drift.
The night wore on, and with each passing moment, his frustration grew.
He had hoped Athena would serve as a distraction, that indulging in the physical would silence the unwelcome thoughts clawing at his mind.
But it was futile.
Every touch felt meaningless, every kiss mechanical, it only seemed to be a fleeting distraction.
When the night finally ended, Ace sat back against the couch, a cigarette between his fingers, the faint glow of the burning tip casting flickering shadows across his face.
Across the dimly lit room, Athena lay sprawled on the bed, her breath still uneven from their earlier encounter.
The air was thick with the scent of sweat, perfume, and lingering arousal.
Ace took a slow drag, exhaling a cloud of smoke that curled lazily in the air. His gaze flickered over Athena’s form.
Curves in all the right places, a body sculpted for pleasure.
As a stripper at a club owned by Felix, Athena was part of an environment where beauty and allure were not just admired but meticulously maintained, polished like expensive glass.
The women here understood the power of desire— how to wield it, manipulate it, sell it.
And Athena was no exception.
He had enjoyed himself, yes. But the pleasure was fleeting, shallow.
There was no afterglow, no sense of satisfaction beyond the temporary relief of tension.
He exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl from the cigarette between his fingers.
"What's your name?" he asked suddenly, his voice breaking the heavy silence.
She blinked, momentarily thrown off by the question.
"Athena, Sir," she replied smoothly, her voice still slightly breathless but confident.
Ace exhaled more smoke, his sharp gaze narrowing slightly. "Do you have a boyfriend?"
There was a flicker of something in her expression— hesitation? Calculation? But it was gone as quickly as it appeared, replaced with that same eager charm.
"No, Sir. I’m single," she said quickly, her voice carrying a tinge of excitement.
Ace almost smirked. It was always the same.
The women here all harbored the same secret hope— that one night, one man, one decision could change their lives.
That someone powerful enough could pluck them from the neon haze of the club and place them in a world of security and comfort.
It was the dream of every girl who danced under those flashing lights, who endured the hungry stares and the leering hands of strangers.
Escape.
Freedom.
A chance to live happily, away from the smoke-filled rooms and whispered propositions.
Ace could see it all too clearly. The longing. The greed. The quiet calculation hidden behind their sultry gazes.
The fantasy of being with someone who wasn’t just rich but also untouchable.
Someone who could rewrite the course of their lives with a single indulgence.
But it was a fantasy.
It was a familiar dynamic— one that played out time and time again in his encounters with women.
"Good," he said finally. "Whenever I call you, you come. You relieve my stress. No love. No expectations. No bullshit. Understand, Athena?"
His tone was explicit, leaving no room for misinterpretation.
Athena's face barely changed, but he caught it—the brief flicker of disappointment before she smothered it with a practiced smile.
"Okay, Sir," she said, her voice carrying an artificial brightness.
She was still new here. That much was obvious.
The hopeful ones always stood out, the ones who still thought they could play the game and win.
Ace watched her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable.
He knew this game. Women in her position always thought they could change him.
That they could make him want something more, make him crave the warmth of their affection.
But they never did.
Because Ace didn’t love.
He took what he wanted, indulged when it suited him, and discarded when he was done.
Athena was no exception.
The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken thoughts.
Ace tilted his head back, letting the cigarette dangle loosely between his fingers as his mind drifted.
And just like that, Iris invaded his thoughts again.
His jaw clenched, his mood souring instantly.
The contrast between Athena and Iris was like night and day.
Athena exudes sensuality, wielding it like a weapon. She wanted to be desired, to be chosen.
Iris, on the other hand, wasn’t trying to be alluring.
Her presence wasn’t carefully crafted for seduction. She didn’t seek his attention. She didn’t crave his approval.
And perhaps that was what made it so fucking maddening.
Unlike Athena, Iris looked at him with resignation.
Like she had already made peace with whatever fate awaited her in his hands.
It was infuriating. Because it meant she wasn’t trying to win him over.
She wasn’t hoping for something more.
And somehow, that made him want to ruin her even more.
Ace exhaled sharply, rubbing his thumb against his temple before pinching the bridge of his nose.
This was exactly why he came here tonight. To get her out of his fucking head.
But here he was, another woman lying in the bed, and all he could think about was Iris. Idiot.
He turned his attention back to Athena, his voice low and firm.
"Remember, Athena. No expectations. Just fun."
Athena nodded, her practiced smile still in place. "Of course, Sir."
But Ace could hear the lie in her voice.
She was still hoping. They always did.
He leaned back into the couch, closing his eyes, the cigarette still burning between his fingers.
No matter how many women he touched, no matter how many bodies warmed his bed, it wouldn’t change the fact that Iris was in his fucking head.
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