Chapter 2 - The Crimson StainAdrian crouched down in front of her. The sheer surrealism of the moment hung heavy in the air—the most feared underground kingpin in New York City was kneeling on a marble floor, treating a cut on a twenty-seven-year-old accountant's hand.
He pulled a small leather grooming kit from his jacket pocket, flipped it open with a practiced flick of his thumb, and extracted a bottle of antiseptic and sterile gauze.
“Why?” Evelyn whispered, staring down at the top of his dark head as he carefully cleaned the glass shards from her skin.
“Why what?” Adrian asked, not looking up.
“Why care? You own half the city. You have hitmen, politicians, and billionaires bowing at your feet. Why waste time on a girl who just got humiliated over a ten-thousand-dollar bar bet?”
Adrian paused. He looked up, his dark eyes piercing straight through her defenses.
“Because, Evelyn,” Adrian said, using her first name with a casual familiarity that sent a shiver down her spine, “I despise men who win games by cheating people who have everything to lose. And I especially despise men who treat elegance like a disposable commodity.”
He pressed a sterile pad against her palm. She winced slightly, but didn't pull away.
“How do you know my name?” she asked.
A faint, humorless smirk touched the corner of Adrian’s mouth. “An accountant at Marino Atlantic Holdings who balances three complex international logistics accounts by day and keeps her personal ledger meticulously clean by night doesn’t stay invisible to people who pay attention. I know everyone who enters my establishments, Miss Hart. Especially the ones who actually work for a living.”
“I’m not special,” Evelyn murmured, looking down at the ruined silk of her dress. “Derek was right about one thing. I’m ordinary. I’m safe. People like that only keep me around until someone shinier comes along.”
Adrian finished wrapping her hand in clean gauze, stood up slowly, and towered over her once more.
“Derek Caldwell is a boy playing poker with chips he didn't earn,” Adrian said coldly. He turned toward the heavy mahogany door of the lounge. “Stay here for five minutes. Fix your hair. When you walk out that door, you won't be hiding behind any columns.”
“What are you going to do?” Evelyn asked, a sudden panic rising in her chest.
May you like
Adrian stopped with his hand on the deadbolt. He didn’t look back, but the smile on his face was entirely predatory.
“I’m going to collect a debt.”
