06 Beautiful Stranger 2

Natalie

The moment we stepped inside, it felt like entering another world.

Dark, pulsing lights bathed the room in shades of red and violet. The music wasn’t just loud—it throbbed, vibrating through my chest like a second heartbeat.

The air was thick with smoke, perfume, and something else—electricity. Raw and charged, like anything could happen.

Bodies moved like water, swaying and grinding in a rhythm that was less dancing and more seduction. The deeper we walked in, the more intimate the atmosphere became—hands on hips, lips on necks, eyes half-lidded with want.

But Adrian didn’t lead us into the crowd.

He took us above it.

An elevated booth, set back just enough to feel private, but perfectly placed to overlook the entire room. It wasn’t just a seat—it was a throne.

The way people stepped aside as we passed…

The way staff nodded without making eye contact…

The way glances flicked toward him, then away just as fast, like staring too long was a risk…

He wasn’t just powerful here.

He was untouchable.

Lisa slid into the seat across from us, playing it cool—barely. Her eyes flicked around the booth like she couldn't believe where we were.

I sat next to Adrian, still buzzing from the sensory overload. The plush leather beneath me felt distant, like I wasn't fully in my body.

I hadn’t even noticed how much was happening around us until I really looked. The dancing—if you could call it that—was more like foreplay in motion. Hands slipping under clothes, lips brushing necks, heat and hunger in every touch.

I stiffened.

And Adrian noticed.

Of course he noticed.

His gaze was sharp, unblinking, but there was a softness to it now. Amused. Curious. Maybe even protective.

A low chuckle escaped him, smooth and warm like bourbon.

“Not your scene?” he asked, his voice pulling me back to the moment.

My breath hitched.

It wasn’t until then that I realized just how close we were sitting.

Close enough that his energy wrapped around me, warm and magnetic. Close enough that if I shifted even slightly—if I leaned just a little—we’d be touching.

I knew I should pull away. Create space.

But I didn’t.

Couldn’t.

His scent surrounded me—clean, crisp, with something darker threaded beneath it. Something expensive. Dangerous. Addictive.

I swallowed, trying to steady myself, trying to force my thoughts into something less reckless. Less… his.

“New in town,” Adrian murmured, voice low, velvet-smooth. The way he said it, it wasn’t a question. It was a fact. A tease. Like he’d already read every page of me.

I nodded, lips parting to respond—but I didn’t get the chance.

A woman stepped into the booth like she owned the place.

Red-haired.

Barely dressed—her outfit was more suggestion than fabric, clinging to every curve with shameless precision. She moved slowly, intentionally, every step a silent declaration of confidence.

And the way she looked at Adrian?

Not curiosity. Not admiration.

Claim.

She knew him. Intimately.

The smile she gave him wasn’t one you offered a stranger—it was the kind that came after whispered secrets and shared sheets.

A sharp chill settled in my chest, unwelcome and immediate.

Adrian didn’t move. Didn’t rise. But something in his posture shifted—barely.

And I suddenly wasn’t sure where I stood.

The red-haired woman entered the booth like she owned it, hips swaying with practiced allure, sheer fabric clinging to every curve like a second skin.

She didn’t acknowledge me and Lisa. Not even a glance. Her sultry gaze was locked on Adrian, full of unspoken promises and familiarity.

Suddenly, I felt like I didn’t belong. Like I’d wandered into a room that wasn’t meant for me.

The confidence I’d worn like armor cracked. My insecurities slipped in, silent and cold, wrapping around me like a noose.

What am I even doing here?

I shifted, instinctively leaning away from Adrian, trying to make myself smaller. Less visible. But the space barely opened between us before I felt it—his hand on my waist.

Warm. Steady. Possessive.

He pulled me back, effortlessly.

The gesture was subtle. But unmistakable.

A claim.

Lisa’s eyes widened across the booth, flicking from his hand to my face. Her look was a mix of shock, intrigue—and maybe a little warning.

My breath caught. My body betrayed me, heat blooming low in my stomach. Some reckless part of me wanted to lean into him, to forget reason, to surrender to whatever this was.

Then Adrian spoke.

“I have company, Arya,” he said, calm but firm.

The redhead—Arya—paused mid-step. Her lips pressed into a tight line, a flicker of displeasure flashing across her face.

Subtle, but unmistakable.

Her fingers curled slightly at her sides, her gaze finally—finally—turning to me. And in that second, I felt something cold slide down my spine.

Her eyes—there was something unnatural in them. Something that flickered, too sharp, too knowing.

I flinched before I could stop myself.

Adrian noticed.

“Arya,” he said again, low and even. A warning wrapped in velvet.

She held his gaze for a beat too long, then exhaled sharply. Her lips curved, but the expression wasn’t a smile—it was a promise.

Without a word, she turned and walked away, her movements still slow, still deliberate, but her energy had changed. Harder. Darker.

She looked back once.

That look said this wasn’t over.

Only when she disappeared into the crowd did I realize I’d been holding my breath. I exhaled shakily, my heart pounding in my throat.