The drunken dragon

Jaxon pressed the tip of his tobacco into the ashtray with a sharp flick, the faint scent of burnt paper hanging in the air. He stood, stretching his muscles before reaching for the suit jacket draped over the back of the chair. His two bodyguards remained at attention, their bodies stiff, eyes unwavering, hands clasped at their sides.

Without saying a word, Jaxon walked past them, his steps deliberate and steady as he made his way out of the office, his briefcase in hand. As he exited the building, his PA and driver stood by the door of the Rolls-Royce Sweptail. The driver opened the door as soon as he saw Jaxon approach.

Jaxon slid into the car, and the door was immediately shut behind him. The driver and his PA swiftly moved to the front seat while the bodyguards climbed into the vehicles following the Rolls-Royce. As the car began to roll forward, Alex, his PA, passed him an iPad, which he took without a word.

"Delfaco will be arriving at the location in less than an hour. Our men are already in position with the money," Alex reported.

"Good," Jaxon replied, his voice firm and resolute. "Let’s make sure we’re on time."

Alex nodded, then glanced at him through the rearview mirror. "Are you sure about this? Do you really want to risk being seen? We can handle him without your involvement."

"Delfaco is a slippery bastard. You can’t trust him," Jaxon answered, his tone calm but unwavering. "Don’t worry about me being seen. I’ll take care of that."

"But—"

"I’ll stay out of sight, alright?" Jaxon interrupted, his voice firm. "If things go south, call me, and I’ll be there. Don’t hesitate to reach out."

"Yes, sir." Alex gave a slight bow of his head and returned his attention to the road. Jaxon reached into his briefcase, pulling out a small, worn photograph. The picture showed a young girl, beaming with a wide smile. She was wearing a tiny-strap dress, and a birthmark on her chest was faintly visible. Her name was Teresa.

A soft smile tugged at Alex’s lips as he gazed at her innocent face in the photo. It had become something of a ritual for him—before any important meeting or transaction, he’d always look at this picture. It seemed like Teresa brought him luck.

Jaxon had spent years searching for Teresa, It was as if she disappeared entirely from the of face the earth. Despite being told she was dead, and even visiting her grave, something about the story didn’t sit right with him. He believed she could still be alive, and he couldn’t shake the feeling that there were pieces of the puzzle missing.

He was indebted to her, and he was certain that he would never find peace until he tracked her down and made things right.

“We’re here, Boss,” Alex said, and Jaxon glanced out the tinted window, spotting the large bar sign that read “The Drunken Dragon” across the street.

He reached for a cap in the back seat, pulling it down low to cover half his face, then shrugged off his suit jacket, leaving him in just his white, fitted shirt. “I’ll be inside. Call me if Delfaco starts causing trouble.”

“Yes, sir,” Alex replied as Jaxon opened the car door and stepped out. He made his way toward the bar, hands buried in his pockets, trying to blend in with the crowd.

The pounding beat of hip-hop music hit him the moment he walked in. The bar was alive with chatter, laughter, dancing, and even some couples making out in every corner.

This wasn’t Jaxon’s kind of crowd. He preferred more private, quieter places—somewhere far from the noise, especially given his reputation. He could already imagine the chaos if someone recognized him here—Jaxon Waverly, the infamous billionaire CEO from Italy.

‘I need to keep a low profile.’

He made his way to the bar, head lowered, and sat down, scanning the room before glancing at the bartender.

“One whiskey sour,” he ordered quietly, keeping his head as low as possible.

As he waited for his order, a woman suddenly stumbled into him, spilling her whiskey all over his shirt.

"Ah!..." Isla gasped, staggering backward before setting her glass on the counter. "I’m so sorry," she muttered, frantically patting his shirt in an attempt to clean the stain.

Jaxon clenched his jaw, quickly pulling out a handkerchief from his pocket. He avoided looking up, keeping his face low to prevent being recognized. "It’s fine," he said flatly, dabbing at the mess himself.

"Your whiskey sour is ready," the bartender announced, setting the drink on the counter. Jaxon picked it up and stood, his tone curt as he addressed the woman. "Excuse me," he said, gesturing for her to step aside.

As she moved, he glanced at her briefly. She wore a face mask and a cap, leaving only her piercing blue eyes visible. She tilted her head slightly, locking eyes with him. "I’m sorry," she repeated, her voice breaking as tears spilled down her cheeks.

Jaxon frowned, uneasy and baffled. Why was she crying? Surely it wasn’t over spilling a drink.

"I…" She stammered, lowering her gaze and shaking her head. "I… I hate myself." Isla’s voice cracked as she broke down, clutching her bag tightly.

Jaxon exhaled sharply, glancing at the bartender, silently hoping to avoid any further involvement. This was the last thing he needed—drama while he was undercover.

"She’s pretty drunk," the bartender murmured, leaning closer to Jaxon. "She’s been here for over an hour, muttering about a wedding dress or something. I think she just got her heart broken. Poor thing." He shook his head, sympathy etched on his face.

Jaxon gritted his teeth, turning back to the woman. He didn’t want to get dragged into her personal mess, but she was right in front of him, visibly spiraling, and didn’t seem inclined to move.

“Can you at least sit down?" he said, pulling the chair behind her closer and motioning for her to take a seat. 

"Thank you," she said softly, clutching her bag as she sat down. Her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as she reached for her glass of whiskey, but Jaxon leaned in quickly, snatching the glass from her grasp.

"I…" He paused, holding the glass out of her reach. "I don’t think that’s a good idea. You’ve had enough." His tone was firm but calm. She gave a small nod, lowering her head again.

"I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be burdening you with my problems," she muttered, her voice barely audible. Jaxon raised an eyebrow, silently agreeing as he picked up his drink and took a sip.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed her head still bowed, her shoulders trembling as she wept quietly behind her mask. Jaxon turned his gaze away, pulling out his phone in an attempt to distract himself, silently willing Alex to message him so he could leave.

"This will help you feel better," the bartender said, sliding a glass of water toward her.

She shook her head, nudging the glass aside. "Nothing can make me feel better," she whispered. "I don’t want to feel better. I just… I just want it to end." Her voice cracked, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

Jaxon exchanged a look with the bartender, who wore a sympathetic expression. The man seemed to silently plead with Jaxon to step in, but Jaxon felt uncertain and out of his depth.

‘How am I supposed to comfort a stranger dealing with heartbreak?’ he thought, glancing back at the woman with a growing sense of unease.

“You should go home and sleep it off,” Jaxon said, taking another sip from his glass. “It’s dangerous for a woman to be here alone, especially when drunk. Men can be dangerous.”

She scoffed, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “Tell me about it.” Sniffling, she added, “I can’t go home. Not tonight. There’s something…” She swallowed hard. “I need to forget.” Her voice firmed as she suddenly grabbed her glass.

Before Jaxon could react, she downed the whiskey in one gulp and slammed the glass onto the counter.

At that point, Jaxon had had enough. He just wanted to leave. His eyes darted to his phone again, but there was still no message from Alex.

‘What the hell is taking so long?’

“They said I did it, so why not just do it,” Isla muttered suddenly, rising from her seat.

Jaxon turned, surprised to find her standing right next to him, her gaze locked onto his.

“What?” he asked, baffled.

“Do you want to f**k?” she asked bluntly.

His eyes widened slightly. “What?”

“I want to feel good, and the whiskey isn’t cutting it. A man like you could make me feel better about myself.” She raised a hand to touch his face, and Jaxon froze momentarily, his body tense.

Quickly, he turned away, his heart pounding at the thought of being recognized. “You’re drunk, lady,” he said sharply, reaching for his phone. Just then, a message from Alex appeared:

‘We got the goods. The transaction was successful. We’ll pick you up now.’

“Finally,” Jaxon muttered under his breath, pushing his chair back to stand. “Go home.”

“I don’t have a home to go back to!” she shouted, fresh tears streaming down her face. “I just want one night with you. What’s so bad about that? I don’t even want your money. I just want to feel something. If you don’t want me, fine—I’ll find someone else. But if he hurts me, that’s on you.”

Jaxon raised an eyebrow, her words striking a nerve. He looked around to make sure people were not staring. “Are you seriously trying to emotionally blackmail me?”

“All I want is for you to make love to me…” she moved closer, her voice lowering, “…and make it a night I’ll never forget. I’ll pay you if that’s what it takes.”

“You’ll pay me?” Jaxon scoffed at the absurdity of her offer, though a small part of him found it strangely enticing. “How much are we talking?” he asked with a smirk, stepping toward her.

“Any… any amount you want,” she stammered, her confidence faltering under his intense gaze. “I have savings,” she added, glancing away shyly.

Jaxon chuckled softly, shaking his head. He placed a hand under her chin, gently lifting her face so their eyes met again. “If you’re going to make an offer like that, don’t look away.”

She swallowed hard but nodded resolutely. “I’m in.”

“Great,” Jaxon said, letting her go and stepping back. “Only one rule—we keep the lights off the entire time.”

“I don’t want the lights on either,” she agreed quickly.

Jaxon nodded slowly, glancing at his phone once more. He texted Alex: Leave me.

“Let’s go,” he said, leaning down. To Isla’s astonishment, he swept her off her feet, carrying her bridal style as he strode confidently out of the bar.