Chapter 2 The Morning After

Pixie's Point of View

The elevator doors slid open, revealing a breathtaking penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows showcasing a nighttime skyline that seemed to stretch on forever. I'd never seen anything so luxurious, and I took a moment to absorb it all. Dante led me through the spacious living room, his hand resting lightly on the small of my back, making my skin tingle.

"Drink?" he offered, already heading to the sleek bar tucked into the corner.

"Sure," I replied, my voice softer than I'd intended. There was something about Dante-his confidence, his magnetic presence-that left me feeling completely out of my element, but somehow... I liked it.

He poured two glasses of whiskey and handed one to me, his fingers brushing mine for a split second, sending a thrill through me. We clinked glasses, and I took a cautious sip, the burn of the alcohol mixing with the adrenaline still rushing through my veins.

"Do you do this often?" I asked, the question slipping out before I could stop myself.

Dante smirked, taking a slow sip of his drink. "Depends. Do what, exactly?"

I swallowed, realizing how forward I sounded. "You know... bring strangers up here."

His gaze lingered on me, intense and unreadable. "Not strangers. Just you."

That was all it took. The distance between us vanished, and I felt myself drawn to him, unable to resist the pull. The taste of whiskey still lingered on his lips as he kissed me, deep and possessive. There was no hesitation-just raw need and desire. Everything else faded away.

---

The next morning, I was jolted awake by the shrill ring of my phone, cutting through the thick fog in my mind. My head throbbed, and as I blinked into consciousness, I realized I was in an unfamiliar, luxuriously furnished bedroom. A surge of panic shot through me as I tried to piece together the events of the previous night.

The phone continued ringing insistently. Groaning, I fumbled around, finally finding it on the nightstand. Mrs. Sybil's name flashed on the screen.

Great. Just what I needed.

I answered, my voice barely a croak. "Hello?"

"Charleston, where are you?" Mrs. Sybil's voice crackled with impatience, her tone sharper than usual. "Do you know what time it is?"

"I-uh-sorry, Mrs. Sybil. I'm on my way." I sat up, holding my head as the room spun around me. Hangover. Fantastic.

"You better be," she snapped. "You're not paid to sleep in, Pixie."

The call ended abruptly, and I let out a sigh, my mind racing as I threw off the covers. I had to get out of here. Now.

I looked around the room for my clothes, finding them neatly folded on a nearby chair. I dressed as quickly as my pounding head would allow, half-expecting Dante to appear, but he didn't. Maybe that was for the best. Less explaining to do.

Buttoning my blouse, I made my way out of the bedroom and down a hallway, which led to the penthouse's living room. I stopped short when I spotted a tall man in a dark suit, standing near the door. He looked up as I approached.

"Miss Charleston?" he greeted, his expression unreadable. "I'm Josh, head of Mr. Fontanelle's security team. May I arrange a car to take you home?"

I opened my mouth, but the embarrassment rising in my chest cut off my words. "Oh, um, thank you, but... I'll be fine." I just needed to get out of here, quickly.

Josh raised an eyebrow, but he didn't press. "As you wish, Miss Charleston. Have a good day."

I nodded quickly, offering a polite smile before bolting toward the elevator. I could feel the eyes of the guards on me as I pressed the button, waiting anxiously for the doors to close. The moment they did, I let out a breath, trying to steady myself.

I could hardly believe any of this had actually happened. One minute I was at a bachelorette party, and now here I was, rushing out of a billionaire's penthouse.

---

By the time I got to the office, my headache had only gotten worse, and I could practically feel Mrs. Sybil's glare burning through the walls. I slumped into my chair, hoping I looked more composed than I felt.

Before I could even pull myself together, Lisa appeared beside my desk, grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Someone had an adventurous night."

I glared at her, shushing her with a wave. "Not now, Lisa. I feel like I got run over by a truck."

She leaned closer, clearly undeterred. "Oh, come on. I saw you leave with him last night. Care to share?"

"Nothing happened." I gave her a pointed look, though my cheeks betrayed me, heating up under her scrutiny. "It was... just a little too much tequila, that's all."

Lisa smirked, crossing her arms. "Uh-huh. Sure, Pixie. I'm not buying it."

"Fine, think whatever you want." I turned my attention to my computer screen, desperate to distract myself. But Lisa kept hovering, her grin growing by the second.

"Alright, alright. I'll quit. But girl, you owe me details when you're ready to spill."

I rolled my eyes, finally allowing a small smile. As much as she annoyed me, Lisa was my closest friend here, and I couldn't deny that part of me wanted to share everything-if I could even make sense of it myself.

Suddenly, the sound of shattering glass cut through the office. Lisa and I both froze, looking around as people gasped and ducked under desks.

"What's happening?" I whispered, panic starting to rise in my chest.

Before Lisa could answer, the sharp crack of gunfire filled the room, sending everyone into a frenzy. We dropped to the floor, my heart pounding so hard I could barely think.

Through the chaos, I could see two men, both in dark jackets and ski masks, striding into the office with guns drawn. They moved with terrifying purpose, their eyes scanning the room until one of them spoke, his voice cold and commanding.

"We're looking for Pixie Charleston."

I felt the blood drain from my face. Every eye in the office seemed to turn toward me, and my heart nearly stopped. I pressed myself against the floor, hoping they wouldn't see me, hoping this was just some twisted dream.

But deep down, I knew-this was real.

And they were here for me.