Chapter 5 Secrets in the Dark

The club's pulsating music faded into the background like a dull throb as he approached, his presence commanding the space around him like a storm rolling in. His eyes never left mine, dark and unreadable yet burning with an intensity that made my breath hitch.

He stopped just inches away, close enough that I could smell the faint scent of whisky and something deeper, more primal-like pine and smoke.

"You've been staring," I said, my voice steady despite the way my heart was racing. I tilted my head, meeting his gaze with a challenge. "Do I owe you money, or do you just have bad manners?"

A slow, dangerous smile spread across his face, revealing dimples on his cheeks that only made him more infuriatingly attractive. "Neither," he said, his voice low and smooth, like honey laced with whisky. "But if I'm staring, it's because you're impossible to look away from-and you've been encouraging my behaviour."

I raised an eyebrow, refusing to let him see how his words affected me. "Smooth. Do you practice that line in the mirror, or does it just come naturally?"

He chuckled, the sound rich and warm, and took a step closer. "Neither. I don't need lines when the truth works just fine." He leaned in, his breath brushing against my ear as he added, "You're the most captivating woman in this room. And trust me, I've looked."

A shiver ran down my spine, but I forced myself to stay composed. "Flattery will get you nowhere," I said, though the way my pulse quickened betrayed me.

"Good thing I'm not trying to go anywhere, nor do I flatter," he replied, his smirk widening. He extended a hand, his gaze never leaving mine. "Dance with me."

It wasn't a question. It was a command, delivered with a confidence that made it impossible to refuse. I hesitated for a moment, then placed my hand in his. His fingers closed around mine, warm and firm, and he pulled me onto the dance floor.

The music shifted, the beat slowing to something sultry and intimate. He turned me around, his hands settling on my waist as I pressed my back against his chest. His touch was electric, sending sparks shooting through me with every movement.

I rocked against him slowly, my hips swaying to the rhythm, and his hands slid lower, dangerously close to the edge of my dress.

"So," he said, his voice low and teasing, "what's your name?"

I tilted my head, a sly smile playing on my lips. "Where's the fun in that? Let's keep it mysterious. You can call me... Sexy Red."

He laughed, the sound sending a thrill through me. "Sexy Red, huh? I like it. And what will you call me, since you're so good with code names?"

"Mystery Guy works for me," I said, my tone playful. "Unless you've got a better idea."

"Mystery Guy it is," he said, his eyes darkening as he leaned in closer. "But I plan to uncover all your secrets before the night's over."

"Good luck with that," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm not an easy puzzle to solve."

"I love a challenge," he replied, his lips brushing against my ear. "And something tells me you're worth the effort."

The air between us crackled with tension-the kind that made it hard to think, hard to breathe. I didn't know who he was or what he wanted, but in that moment, I didn't care.

All I knew was that there was only one way this night was going to end, and that was with me in his bed.

Just then, I remembered I wasn't alone. Kate cleared her throat loudly, snapping me out of the trance I'd fallen into. She stood a few feet away, a mischievous grin on her face as she held the hand of a good-looking guy.

"I see you're having a good time," she said, winking at me. "I'm taking this hottie home with me. See you tomorrow. Oh, and... use protection." She laughed, dragging her guy toward the exit.

I rolled my eyes but couldn't help smiling. "Be safe," I called after her, shaking my head.

When I turned back to Mystery Guy, he was smirking, his eyes glinting with amusement. "So," he said, his voice low and husky, "do you want to get out of here?"

I didn't even hesitate. "Yes."

He led me out of the club, his hand resting possessively on the small of my back. A sleek new-model BMW waited at the curb, its black exterior gleaming under the streetlights. He opened the door for me, his movements smooth and deliberate, before sliding into the driver's seat.

The drive to his penthouse was a blur of countless traffic lights and quiet anticipation.

He didn't say much, but the tension between us was electric, like a live wire sparking in the confined space of the car.

When we finally arrived, the elevator ride up to his apartment felt endless, the air thick with unspoken desire.

The moment the door closed, he spun me around, and his lips were on mine. His kiss was wild and needy, like he was searching for lost treasure, and my tongue was the map.

We stumbled to his couch, his hands roaming over my body as I fumbled with the buttons of his shirt. Just when things were getting heated, his phone rang.

He pulled away with a frustrated groan, glancing at the screen. "I have to take this," he said, his voice rough. "Work. It's important."

I nodded, trying to catch my breath as he stepped into the other room. Left alone, I took the opportunity to look around. His penthouse was sleek and modern, with floor-to-ceiling windows that offered a breathtaking view of the city.

The decor was minimal but expensive-clean lines, neutral tones, and just enough art to make it feel lived-in. Just who exactly was this guy?

He returned a few minutes later, a sheepish smile on his face. "Sorry, sexy. That was work. I told them I had more important matters to handle."

I raised an eyebrow. "More important than very important work?"

He chuckled, closing the distance between us. "Much more important." He sat down beside me, his hand resting on my thigh. "Can I get you something to drink?"

I shook my head. "I'm good."

He leaned back, studying me with those piercing eyes. "So, where do you work? Or is that part of the mystery too?"

I smirked. "I thought you had other plans for me tonight."

His laugh was low and warm as he pulled me closer, his hand sliding up my leg. "You're right. Talking is overrated."

The conversation faded, replaced by something deeper, more primal. His lips found mine again, and this time there was no interruption.