Chapter 2

LIAM

I shoved open the door, barely giving it a chance to swing back before I had her pinned against the wall. Her lips were on mine, zealous, hungry. I wasn’t one for chasing women—hell, I never wasted my time at the club hoping to find one worth my trouble. But tonight, I needed the distraction. And she was something else. Sharp-eyed, with a smile that promised chaos and a body made for sin. She hadn’t hesitated when I grabbed her hand and led her out of that noise. That’s how I knew she belonged here, in my penthouse, under my grip.

My one hand anchored her to the wall, the other hand tangled in her hair. God—the way she moved, the biting edge of her brown eyes drinking in my space like she was impressed. She seemed to be looking for trouble, looking for someone like me. Dangerous. Sexy.

This woman wasn’t my usual type—I didn’t like them so businesslike, and god, not the ones with so much hair I couldn’t wrap around easily.

She moaned against my mouth as I pressed her harder against the wall, hands trailing down the curve of her back to her waist, squeezing. Legs still wrapped around my waist, she slipped her hands under my jacket, nails raking across my back. She tasted like whiskey, sweet and smoky, and her scent—something floral, clean—wrapped around me, making it hard to think straight. I didn’t want to think. I wanted to feel.

Fingers digging into her hips, I pulled her close until there wasn’t an inch of space left between us. I crushed my mouth against hers, feeling the way her breath hitched, the way her hands gripped my neck tighter like she’d been waiting for this as long as I had.

With a shove, I spun her away from the wall, driving her backward until she collided with the console table by the entryway. A gasp escaped her as she hit the edge, the flowerpot crashing to the floor in a mess of broken ceramic and dirt.

“Oops,” she laughed, a throaty sound that made my blood heat, and she arched into me, her hands quick to slide my jacket off in return. Didn’t give a damn about the mess. Good. Because when I took a woman, I didn’t want delicate or careful. I wanted reckless.

I tilted again, mouth grazing her neck, teeth catching the skin just enough to make her shudder.

At this point, I knew her blazer had to go. “Off,” I growled against her lips, not bothering to soften the command. She smirked—like she liked it rough. Good. Then I grabbed the lapels, yanking it off her shoulders, not caring as it crumpled to the floor. The blouse she wore underneath hugged her curves, accentuating everything that had caught my eye in the first place.

Fuck.

The way her nipple pressed against the soft fabric? It made me rock hard.

Faster than I thought possible, my hand found and gripped her hips. I spun her around, pinning her to the edge of the table and spanking her ass before turning her again. She liked it. I liked that she liked it.

“Perfect,” I muttered, voice rough against her ear. I lifted her off the ground as if she weighed no more than a gun, her legs wrapping around my waist.

A smirk tugged at her lips. I didn’t have time to appreciate it fully; I was already heading toward the bedroom, eyes hard on the path ahead. My steps quick and sure. Her legs wrapped around my waist, holding on tight, as if she damn well knew this was where the night was headed all along. The way her lips found my neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses made my jaw clench with the rush of heat they stirred.

As soon as we crossed the threshold, I tossed her onto the bed, letting her fall into the plush sheets with a soft bounce.

The dim lights from the city poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my room, shoving her in a soft glow. My eyes traced every inch of her. Her hair, wild and falling over her eyes. Her lips, already swollen from our kisses. And those eyes…they stared back at me, half-lidded, daring me to do more.

And fuck, I was going to do more. I flicked her heels off, her laughter low and throaty, appreciating each move I made. For a second, I just stood there, watching her. That was before I knelt at the edge of the bed. I didn’t break that gaze as I gripped the waistband of her trousers, pulling them down slowly, savoring every inch of smooth, bare skin that came into view. Her chest rose and fell, breaths coming quick, lips parted in that perfect little ‘o.’ I peeled them off completely.

Tossing them aside, I leaned in, and my hands braced on either side of her as I hovered over her.

She propped herself up on her elbows and met me halfway. She watched me with a smirk that I never knew could exist. It was screaming: don’t fucking torture me.

Because I hated orders that weren’t mine, I chose to torture her. “You like breaking things, huh?” I asked, still caging her.

She shrugged, biting her lip as she met my gaze. Fuck. “Only when it’s worth it.”

I let out a low chuckle, dipping my head to brush my lips against hers, teasing. “Then you’d better be worth it.”

I wasn’t the type to lose control easily, but with the way she was able to draw it out of me, I knew this moment was like gasoline meeting a lit match. The way her breathing came out in short pants as I collected a condom from my wallet and peeled it off with my teeth.

That smirk she had on did something to me. I was rock hard now, nearly spilling out of my pants. I didn’t bother to take my pants off all the way as I freed my cock to slip on the rubber.

She let out a low gasp as she watched me stroke myself. Hurriedly, she thumbed the thin band of her lace panties and rolled them off her smooth legs.

Without wasting another second, I pulled her forcefully to me and thrusted into her with a heavy grunt, not caring that the sound was unrecognizable.

“You need to move…move with me.” I said with a hoarse voice as she began to move, matching my rhythm.

Her moans turned into low screams as she reached her climax. Her pussy pulsing around me. I lost my mind.

I began to move faster, my thrusts nearly beastly. I brought her up to my chest, not stopping my thrusts for a second. Her sweaty skin warming me up further.

I was close. So close.

I could feel her trembling against me, her pussy gripping and ungripping my cock. An indication that she was reaching another climax.

When I exploded, me in her and her moaning hard against my skin, I knew this—me and her—couldn’t be the last time.

---

I woke up with a start, the sheets cold beside me. The lingering scent of her perfume clung to the air, but she was gone. No name, no number—just an empty bed where the woman from last night had been. Why was I surprised she left? I wasn't the type to let women sleepover after sex.

Fuck. The sex.

For a second, I stayed still, staring at the ceiling, my pulse steady from the rush of what had happened. She'd been unlike anyone I'd ever been with. Passionate, yes, but there was something else, something underneath it all. She'd gotten to me. That much I couldn't deny. And I hated that I was reeling over someone, much less a woman.

I threw the covers off, irritation prickling under my skin. But even at that, I still couldn't will my mind off—how I took my time with every angle of her body in the darkness, enjoying the smoothness of her skin and the delicate sounds of her moans.

Her name. What the fuck was her name?

I searched my mind for any memory of names being exchanged but came up with nothing. It gnawed at me, the way I let her slip away, unaware, leaving only the lingering memory of her body and her scent.

I picked up my phone, my thumb hovering over Felix's contact. He was dependable. If anyone could track her down, it was him.

Before I could dial, there was a knock on the door. Felix didn't bother waiting for permission. He stepped in, sharp as always, his eyes scanning the room.

"When the hell did you leave last night?" he asked, his voice casual. "Gustavo said you slipped out without a word."

I didn't bother responding right away.

Felix could read me better than anyone. His eyes flicked around the room again, taking in the scattered clothing and the chaos on the bed, and then back to me. He raised an eyebrow and gave me a knowing look.

I swung my legs over the edge of the bed and ran a hand through my hair, trying to make sense of it myself. "Did you see the woman I was with at the bar last night?" I asked, hoping to God that he saw her.

Felix shook his head. "Nope. Who was she?"

I leaned forward, elbows on my knees.

"Just some woman, sexy as hell," I muttered, irritation still simmering. "But she's gone. And I want her found."

Felix's face shifted, his usual sharpness returning as he pieced together my request. He knew I didn't chase after women, didn't let things like this get to me. That only made it more serious.

I straightened up, locking eyes with him.

"Go ask the guys in the control room to pull the CCTV footage. Everyone who stepped into the club from around midnight. If she slipped away, I want to know when and how. Check every angle. She's tall, with dark hair. She was putting on a gray blazer, I think. I don't know...Just be on the lookout for these things I've listed. Do whatever it takes."

Felix nodded, already moving. He lived for orders like these—direct, no room for failure.

"I'll get the men on it," he said, nodding once, already processing the order.

This was why I kept him close—he never questioned, just acted.

"Do it," I muttered.

He stepped out of the room, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I could still feel the echo of last night in my body—her hands, her lips. The way she'd moved against me. But beyond the physical, there had been something else, something pulling me toward her in a way I couldn't explain. And I wasn't one to let feelings guide my decisions.

I never got distracted. But here I was, chasing the shadow of a woman I didn't know.

An hour later, Felix returned, and this time, he wasn't alone. A man trailed behind him, his appearance unremarkable—short, with dark, sharp eyes that darted around the room, taking in every detail. I raised an eyebrow, my patience already wearing thin.

"Who's this?" I asked, quickly cutting to the point.

Felix didn't flinch. He never did. "This is an artist," he said matter-of-factly. "We need a picture of this woman. It'll make the search more efficient."

I stared at the artist, sizing him up. He shifted nervously under my gaze, but I nodded. It was logical. Without a name, without a trace of her in the usual circles, a sketch would be our best chance. My frustration softened just a fraction. This was why I kept Felix around—he always anticipated the next move.

"Fine," I said, leaning back into my chair. "Let's get this done."

The artist moved quickly, setting up his supplies at my desk. His hands were steady, practiced, and he looked at me expectantly, waiting for me to start. I took a deep breath, replaying every detail of her face in my mind—every curve, every shadow.

"She had dark hair," I began, my voice even. "Long and wavy, but controlled. Her eyes... sharp. Brown, I think, she had on aviators when I met her at the bar, but she took them off when we arrived here. Her eyes had this intensity to them."

The artist nodded, his pencil already moving across the paper, sketching out the first strokes. I watched him closely, not letting a single detail slip by.

"High cheekbones," I continued. "Full lips. There was something commanding about her like she knew she could hold the room without saying a word."

He glanced up at me briefly, then back down at his work. The lines started to take shape, and the vague outline of her face began to form on the page.

"She had this quiet confidence," I added, the memory of her still vivid. "She was in control the entire time, even when it seemed like she wasn't."

The artist worked quickly, his hand gliding over the paper as he filled in the details. Felix stood off to the side, his arms crossed, watching silently as I described her.

"Anything else?" the artist asked, looking up for the final touches.

I paused, thinking. "There was a birthmark. Just a small, light-colored one near her temple. Faint, but there."

The artist nodded, adding the mark before stepping back to admire his work. He turned the drawing toward me, and I felt my breath catch for a moment.

It was her.

The fire in her eyes. The elegance in her expression. She stared back at me from the page as if she'd been conjured from my memory. I felt the pull in my gut again, the same one that had drawn me to her last night. But this time, it was laced with something darker. Curiosity. Obsession.

"Is this her?" Felix asked, his voice low, as he moved closer to inspect the sketch.

I nodded slowly, my eyes locked on the drawing. "Yeah," I muttered. "That's her."

Felix wasted no time, grabbing the sketch and tucking it under his arm. "We'll circulate this. Someone's bound to recognize her. We'll find her."

I nodded, still staring at the empty space where the artist had been working. It felt strange, having her image solidified like this. But there was a part of me, deep down, that was certain we would find her.

Because now, no matter where she ran, I had her face.

---

Later, Felix found me again, interrupting my thoughts. I was about to ask him if there was news about the mystery woman, but his expression was all business, the hint of the personal long gone. "There's something else you need to know," he said.

I raised an eyebrow. "What now?"

"High-stakes poker game tonight," Felix continued. "Big players, mostly from South America. You need to be there if you want to keep those channels open. We need more connections in the drug world, and this is where they'll be."

I leaned back in my chair, considering it. The poker games were more than just a place to lose or win money. They were a breeding ground for alliances and partnerships. It wasn't just about the cards—it was about the power plays that happened beneath the surface.

"I'll be there," I said finally. "Secure me a spot."

Felix nodded, handing me a sleek black card. "Already done."

I stood up and took the card from him and paced the length of the room. My mind was divided—half of me focused on the game ahead, the other half still lingering on the woman who had vanished into thin air.

"Who else will be there?" I asked, more for formality's sake than out of real curiosity.

"A few key distributors. Some club owners. Mostly South American contacts looking to expand their reach into our territory," Felix replied.

"Good," I muttered. "We need those connections."

The poker game would be a distraction, a chance to refocus. But even as I said the words, I knew my mind wasn't entirely on the deals ahead.

Felix stood by the door, waiting for any further instructions, but I didn't say anything. Instead, I waved him off. He took the hint and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts once again.