Kael prowled the edges of the charity event, the dimmed string lights flickering across his sharp jaw and ruffled dark hair. His suit jacket was rumpled, shirt collar open, tie already tugged loose—he looked dangerous, unsteady, projecting confidence with every stride, but his eyes moved restlessly, scanning for Irisa like a man desperate for something solid to hold. He finally spotted her near the makeshift dance floor, a vision of wild control in a crimson dress that hugged every inch, her curls pinned back but already escaping. Her smile was dazzling for the crowd, but her fingers twisted the stems of a wilted daisy, knuckles pale.

Kael’s stare drew her gaze. For a fraction of a second, the world faded—her breath caught, the sharp edges of every secret between them flaring hot. He reached her just as another donor tried to draw her into conversation, and Kael’s hand found her waist, possessive. “Dance with me,” he murmured, low enough that only she could hear. She stiffened, then nodded, letting him lead her away from prying eyes.

They danced; Irisa’s frame rigid at first, then melting as Kael pressed her in, his grip tightening. His cheek brushed hers, the scruff of his jaw catching on her skin, and she shivered. “You don’t have to do this,” she whispered, voice trembling. “I know I don’t,” he answered, his mouth dangerously close to her ear. “But let me.” His anger simmered under the surface, every movement of his body rough, controlled, aching. She let herself feel it—the way his pulse thudded through her palm, the clench of his jaw, the hunger in his eyes.

The song ended, applause burst out, and Kael—drunk on adrenaline and whiskey—tugged her through a side door, down a hall, into the shadows of a storeroom. His breath was ragged. “Tell me to stop,” he said, voice raw. She just shook her head, tears already bright in her eyes. He pressed her against the cold bricks so hard her back arched, his mouth crashing into hers, hands on her hips, his fingers digging in like he needed proof she was real.

She gasped his name, her fingernails raking his neck. Kael lifted her onto a crate, her dress hitching, his hands hungry under the fabric. Clothes shoved aside—her thighs tight around his waist, his breaths hot and desperate against her collarbone. They moved together roughly, the storeroom echoing with soft, choked moans and the thud of frantic bodies. Her hair tumbled loose, clinging to her flushed cheeks, and as he thrust into her, she clung to his shoulders, biting his lip to quiet herself.

Afterward, Irisa blinked, catching the single bulb’s harsh glow above them. Kael’s head bowed against her shoulder. She stroked his hair once, almost tender, then slid off the crate in silence. She adjusted her dress, swiping at her eyes, tears streaking her mascara. Kael attempted a joke, but the sound broke off, too close to a sob. She didn’t look at him—couldn’t—her hands shaking as she fumbled with her hairpins.

The storeroom felt smaller now, air thick with everything unsaid. He reached for her wrist; she flinched, forcing a brittle laugh. “We’re good at pretending,” she choked out. “Maybe one of us will believe it someday.” His eyes went glassy, shoulders curling inward.

A crash erupted outside the storeroom—angry shouts, then Lex’s voice, panicked, calling Irisa’s name. Kael’s face hardened, jealousy and shame warring in his glare. He stormed out to find Lex fumbling through the hallway, cheeks flushed with emotion. “You think you own her?” Lex spat, shoving Kael hard. “You’re just breaking what you touch.”

Kael lunged; fists flew, Lex landing a desperate punch before Kael’s aggression overwhelmed him. “You want her so bad?” Kael snarled, wild-eyed. “All you do is wait for the scraps.” Lex’s jaw clenched, blood at his lip, and for an instant, Irisa’s heart split: the man who ruined her, the man who tried to save her, neither willing to let go.

Myka’s footsteps echoed, her face white as she shoved between them, phone held up. “Stop it! Both of you!” she snapped, thrusting a screen in Kael’s face. Fuzzy security footage flickered—Irisa’s silhouette, frozen, eyes wide, the night Kael’s brother vanished.

Kael stared, his blood turning to ice, Irisa’s name falling from his lips in a whisper, a question, an accusation. Irisa stepped back, shaking, her secrets suddenly blinding beneath the storeroom’s cold light.

To be continued...