Alec Virelli wasn't the kind of man who got left behind.
Not in business.
Not in bed.
Not by some mystery woman with a perfect body and lips that still haunted his collar.
But three days had passed.
And he still hadn't stopped thinking about her.
He tried.
He buried himself in meetings, stocks, overpriced liquor, and women who tried too hard to be what she was naturally.
But nothing worked.
Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her—the red dress slipping off her shoulders, the arch of her back, the sound she made when he gripped her throat and whispered her name like a sin.
Except… he never actually got her name.
He didn't know who she was, where she came from, or why the hell she walked out without a trace.
And it pissed him off more than he wanted to admit.
---
It was almost midnight when Alec walked into Nocturne again—the same club, the same energy, but none of the same fire.
He stood above the crowd in VIP, one hand in his pocket, the other gripping a lowball glass of bourbon. His black button-up was rolled at the sleeves, his watch catching the crimson lights overhead. He looked like power wrapped in silence—and tonight, he had only one goal.
Find her.
If she showed her face again, he wasn't letting her walk away. Not without answers. Not without another night. Not without marking her in a way she couldn't run from.
The bartender, Ren, a woman with half her head shaved and tattoos climbing her arms, gave him a knowing look. "Back so soon?"
Alec didn't answer.
Ren smirked. "Looking for the red dress?"
His eyes narrowed. "You remember her."
"I remember everyone who makes you look like you're about to unbuckle your belt in public." She slid him his usual drink. "Sorry, boss. Haven't seen her since."
Alec swirled the amber liquid, jaw ticking. "Let me know the second she shows up."
Ren leaned in, her voice dropping. "You're seriously obsessed. That's kind of hot… in a messed-up way."
He said nothing. He didn't need to explain himself.
This wasn't about pride.
It was about need.
And need was a dangerous thing for a man like Alec Virelli.
---
Meanwhile…
Across the city, in a cheap walk-up apartment that smelled faintly of incense and bad decisions, she was pacing.
Still wearing his oversized white shirt. Still feeling sore in all the right places.
And still trying to forget the way he made her lose her damn mind.
What the hell did I do? she muttered to herself, dragging her hands through her messy blonde hair. Who just leaves a man like that in the morning?
She had planned to slip away unnoticed. No strings. No mess.
It wasn't supposed to mean anything. Just one night. A fantasy.
But somehow, that fantasy had followed her home. Not just in bruises on her thighs or his scent on her skin. No—he was in her head. Deep. Embedded.
And it scared her.
She didn't do vulnerability. She didn't do want.
And Alec Virelli? He was the kind of man who made you forget why you ever built walls in the first place.
---
Back at Nocturne
The music shifted into something slower. Heavier. Dirtier.
Alec's eyes scanned the dance floor, ignoring the girls who tried to catch his attention, grinding with hopes he'd drag them into his world. He didn't care.
He wasn't here for anyone else.
And just when he started to give up for the night—
He saw her.
Across the room.
Same blonde waves. Same curve of lips. Same unapologetic walk that made the crowd part around her like she was royalty.
But tonight… no red dress.
She wore tight black jeans, a sheer top that clung to her like skin, and heels that still carried that same lethal energy.
His heart didn't skip.
It slammed.
She didn't see him yet.
But he was already moving.
Down the stairs.
Across the crowd.
Through the bodies.
Until they were standing a few feet apart.
She turned—slowly—and their eyes locked.
The smirk on her lips faltered the second she saw him.
Alec said nothing.
He just walked right up to her and leaned in close, his voice a low whisper near her ear.
"You ran."
She swallowed hard, voice barely audible. "You weren't supposed to remember me."
He chuckled—dark, low, dangerous. "You think I forget the woman who rode me like she wanted to ruin me?"
Her breath hitched. Just once.
He tilted his head, lips brushing her ear now. "Don't worry. You'll get your chance to finish the job."
She stepped back. "Alec—"
"You remember my name," he interrupted, eyes glinting. "Good."
She hesitated. He watched her try to decide whether to run again or stay.
He reached out and caught her wrist, fingers gentle, but firm.
"No more vanishing. You're not walking away this time."
"I never planned to see you again," she said quietly.
"And yet, here you are. In my club. Wearing my memory like it's tattooed on your skin."
He pulled her closer by the wrist. Close enough to make her heartbeat skip against her ribs.
His voice dropped, low and dark.
"Tell me to stop. And I will."
She didn't.
Instead, her eyes dropped to his lips.
And that was all the permission he needed.