7. A promise

Aelia’s POV

Pedro leaned against the corridor like nothing had happened, his shirt still wrinkled, his tie loose and dangling below his belt. He didn’t even bother fixing himself, as if my sudden intrusion hadn’t fazed him in the slightest. He glanced at me, his gaze slow, assessing, before his lips curved into a smirk.

“Did you want to show me your dress?” His voice was casual, almost amused. “I personally selected it.”

My breath caught in my throat. I had run here, demanding answers, expecting at least some explanation, maybe even the barest hint of remorse. But he looked at me like I was the one who had done something absurd. My emotions were all over the place, rage, shame, disgust but I forced myself to keep them buried, locked tight beneath the surface.

Just one day. One single day of meeting this man, and I already felt like my life was crumbling.

I swallowed down the chaos inside me and forced out the words that had been at the tip of my tongue since the moment I first stepped into his suffocating world.

“Let me leave.” My voice wasn’t a plea. It was a demand.

Pedro tilted his head, the corner of his mouth still quirked in that same infuriating smirk. “We’re going out, aren’t we?”

“No!” I snapped, the control I had been desperately holding onto slipping through my fingers.

He didn’t argue. He didn’t even react, not in the way a normal person would. Instead, he chuckled under his breath and turned away. “I’ll be with you in a bit.”

I watched, seething, as he adjusted his sleeves, his loosened tie swaying with every movement. He was walking away, dismissing me, and something inside me burned white-hot.

“I’m not going anywhere with you, Mr. Pedro,” I gritted out. My heart was pounding, but I held my ground. “Let me leave, or I’ll call the police.”

The air in the room shifted.

Pedro’s steps halted, and for a split second, silence rang louder than any words. Then, slowly, he turned around.

My breath hitched.

He moved toward me with purpose, his strides long and unhurried, his gaze locked onto mine. I should have backed away. I wanted to but my body refused to obey. He reached me too quickly, too effortlessly, and before I could step back, his fingers wrapped around my wrist and pulled me forward.

We stood so close I could feel his breath against my skin.

His other hand lifted, and in a slow, deliberate motion, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His fingers brushed my cheek, lingering just long enough to make my skin prickle with unease. His dark eyes studied me with an intensity that made it hard to breathe.

“I’m sorry you had to see such an unpleasant scene,” he murmured. “I’ll fire her if you want me to.”

“What?” I whispered, completely thrown off.

“My secretary.” His voice remained calm, measured. “I’ll fire her if you say the word.”

My stomach twisted. I pulled against his grip, but he didn’t let go. “What’s it to me who you fire and what you do?” I spat. “I have no business with you, Mr. Pedro. I ask that you let me go.”

He ignored my words, like they were nothing but background noise. Instead, his grip tightened just slightly, his fingers skimming down to my hand.

“Do you want her to apologize?” he asked. “Is my apology not enough?”

I stared at him, stunned. What kind of sick game was this?

I jerked my hand back, trying to pry myself away from him. “You should apologize to your wife! Not me.”

Something flickered in his expression, but it was gone before I could grasp it. Instead, his gaze dipped, trailing over me, and I suddenly became hyperaware of the dress I was wearing. The barely-there fabric clung to me like a second skin, leaving far too much exposed.

My stomach churned.

“I don’t want to wear this dress,” I said, my voice quieter now but just as firm. “I want no part of this.”

Pedro studied me, his expression complex. Then, with a sigh, he admitted, “I don’t want you wearing this either.”

I blinked, caught off guard.

“But it’s necessary,” he finished. “For tonight.”

A sharp, uneasy shiver crawled up my spine. His words sounded too much like he was preparing me for something —something I didn’t want to be a part of.

Pedro finally released me and strode away without another word. Before I could even process the conversation, the woman from earlier, the same one I had caught straddling him stepped out of the office.

She looked flawless. Poised. Perfect. Her tailored blazer hugged her curves in all the right places, her sharp heels clicking softly against the floor.

“Hello,” she greeted, her voice smooth and professional. “My name is Louisa. Nice to meet you.”

She extended a hand, her smile blindingly polite.

I stared at her, dumbstruck.

What kind of world was this? How could she act like nothing had happened? Like I hadn’t just walked in on her tangled up with her boss?

The room felt suffocating. The people here, they had no eyes, no ears. Nothing about them made sense.

I turned away without accepting the handshake. “Excuse me,” I muttered and left.

—

The ride to our so-called destination was silent. My stomach twisted with every turn of the car, my fingers curling into my lap. I didn’t know what to expect, but I prayed desperately to be safe.

When we finally arrived, my breath caught.

The biggest nightlife center in the city loomed before us, towering and vibrant, pulsing with energy.

The moment we stepped out of the car, Pedro pulled out a pair of dark sunglasses and, without warning, slid them onto my face. Before I could react, his arm snaked around my waist, holding me close like he owned me.

My entire body went rigid.

“What are you—”

“Just stay put,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the noise.

His grip on my waist was firm but not rough. Not yet. I should have fought back, pulled away, but my mind latched onto the conversation we had in the car.

“Stick with me and don’t try anything foolish,” he had said. “This place is dangerous. But if you remain calm tonight, I promise I won’t bother you again.”

That promise… it was the only thing I wanted.

I forced myself to breathe, to ignore the sick feeling in my gut. If staying calm tonight meant walking away from this madness for good, then fine.

I wouldn’t protest.

But the second we stepped past the soundproofed entrance, a deafening, pulsing beat slammed into my senses.

I gasped, my legs nearly buckling.

The air was thick with smoke and alcohol, the scent dizzying. Bodies swayed together, lost in the music, the flashing neon lights painting the room in dizzying colors. It was overwhelming.

Subconsciously, I reached for the only steady thing near me—Pedro.

My fingers curled into his shirt before I even realized it.

Pedro stilled. Then, slowly, he leaned down and murmured, “It was warm. You didn’t have to withdraw.”

I let go completely.

But before I could take a step away, his grip tightened around my waist. His lips lowered near my ear and his voice a quiet warning.

“Remember what we talked about?” His tone darkened. “Don’t make me change my mind.”

My pulse pounded.

I swallowed hard.

“Soon we’ll have guests,” he continued, his voice dangerously silky. “Don’t fail.”

My hands trembled at my sides.

I had no idea what I had just stepped into. But for now, I had no choice but to play along.