Chapter 4: 2

Location: Chicago, Illinois

Time: 11:45pm

My shift was almost over. Only a few lingering customers remained, nursing their last drinks of the evening. I wasn’t scheduled to wait on the VIP party coming in tonight, so I was already imagining the quiet solitude of my apartment, a bowl of instant ramen in hand. It was all I wanted after a long day of working at the restaurant.

But just as I was about to grab my things, my phone buzzed. I already knew who it was before I even looked at the screen: Mitchie.

“Hey, Cassie!” Mitchie’s voice rang through the phone, upbeat as always. “I know your shift’s over, but there’s been a little situation. Denise had a family emergency, and I’m stuck holding down the fort. Can you stay a little longer and help me out?”

I sighed, already exhausted. The thought of curling up on my couch and ignoring the rest of the world was tempting. But Mitchie had been the one to help me land this job when I first moved to the city, and she’d been there for me through everything. I owed her.

I forced a smile. “Sure. I’ll do it.”

“Thanks a ton, Cassie! I’m really grateful. Oh, and just so you know, it’s a big one tonight—real VIP crowd. Lucas will be helping out since it’s a larger group, but just... be careful. These people are important, okay?”

“Got it,” I said, trying to sound cheerful, though I wasn’t exactly excited about the extra hours. “Eye, eye, Captain,” I added playfully, saluting her as if she could see me.

Mitchie chuckled. “You’re the best. I’ll owe you one.”

I hung up, staring at the phone for a moment. Great. VIPs. The kind of people who made everything feel more intense.

Reluctantly, I tied my apron back on, grabbed my notebook, and headed for the VIP section. I wasn’t sure what to expect, but I already had a bad feeling about it.

When I opened the door to the private room, my blood ran cold. The room seemed to close in on me, the air thick with tension. Mitchie hadn’t mentioned who the guests were, but I recognized them instantly.

The Roussis family.

I had seen them countless times on the news—Lorenzo Roussis, the family heir, and his notoriously powerful parents. There were stories of their wealth, their influence, and the scandals that surrounded them. And I had seen their faces in the tabloids more than once—especially after Lorenzo had started dating Gwenivere, my best friend.

There they were, sitting at the long, polished table like a royal family in the heart of a kingdom. Lorenzo’s mother and father, both with icy expressions and sharp eyes. His twin sisters, effortlessly beautiful, sitting poised and perfect. Then, at the far end of the table, there was Eris—the youngest of the family.

Eris couldn’t have been much older than 19, but the dark circles under his eyes told a different story. He looked like a man already burdened with the weight of the Roussis legacy, even though he was so young. *It’s your fault*, a voice whispered in my head. I tried to shake it off, but it lingered there, gnawing at me.

I forced myself to breathe, focusing on the other people in the room. Some were familiar, thanks to pictures Gwenivere had sent me from her social media—friends, business associates, people who had something to do with the Roussis empire. But it was the five men at the far end of the table that caught my attention. They exuded power in a way that made the air feel heavy, like they could command anything just by looking at it. And yet, there was something oddly familiar about them, too, as though I had seen their faces somewhere before.

Then it hit me.

They were the kind of men who made headlines.

One of them, the man at the center, was Aleksander Mirone—the CEO and founder of Starz Entertainment. His face graced magazine covers, and he was the subject of every “eligible bachelor” list, but here, in person, he was even more imposing. Tall, handsome, with piercing green eyes and immaculate blonde hair, he looked every bit the part of the media mogul, the darling of society’s elite. But there was something about him, something distant, like a man who had everything and yet nothing at all.

Beside him sat another man whose face I couldn’t quite place, but whose presence made the room feel smaller. He was tall, dark-haired, and his intense, almost predatory gaze held a quiet command. A scar ran down his jaw, a mark of some past conflict—something that made him feel dangerous in a way I wasn’t sure I could explain.

The others around the table were quieter, but just as intimidating. They were businessmen, power players—people who didn’t need to speak to make their influence felt. I felt out of place, like an intruder in a world I had no business being a part of.

As I stood there, unsure of what to do next, the man with the scar spoke. His voice was deep and calm, with a hint of amusement, as if he knew exactly how out of place I felt. "Excuse me," he said, his eyes never leaving mine. "Are you here to take our drink order?"

I blinked, snapping out of my thoughts. “Uh, yes,” I stammered, mentally kicking myself. "I’m sorry, I’ll—I'll take your drink orders now."

I walked around the table, trying to steady my nerves. My hands were shaking as I fumbled with my pen, scribbling down drink orders, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was being watched. Each man’s gaze was like a weight on my shoulders, as though they were studying me, measuring my worth.

Aleksander Mirone was the first to speak. His voice was smooth and confident, the kind of voice you didn’t ignore. "I’ll have vodka," he said, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "The finest you have."

I nodded quickly, trying to appear professional even as my heart pounded in my chest. “Of course. And you?” I asked, turning to the scarred man.

"Whiskey," he replied, his voice colder than before. He didn’t even glance at me, his eyes scanning the room with an indifference that made me uneasy.

The others gave their orders in similar, clipped tones, their voices sharp and direct. It was clear that they were used to being obeyed. I scribbled everything down, trying to keep my composure, but my mind was racing. I had no idea how I had ended up in this situation, surrounded by people who could probably ruin my life with the snap of their fingers.

When I turned to leave, I felt the man with the scar’s gaze on me once again. And then, as if on cue, his voice stopped me.

“Cassie,” he said, his tone low, almost dangerous. I froze, my heart skipping a beat. There was no reason for him to know my name. *Did Mitchie mention me?* My chest tightened with unease.

I slowly turned to face him, my stomach in knots. "I… I’m sorry, I think you have me confused with someone else," I said, my voice a little shaky.

He stared at me for a moment, then gave a small, almost imperceptible smile, the kind of smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re right,” he said smoothly. “My mistake.”

I felt the tension in my chest ease slightly, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something wasn’t right. He’d known my name. Or had he been toying with me? I quickly turned and left the room, my pulse still hammering in my ears.

It was a game I didn’t understand, one I wasn’t sure I even wanted to play. But tonight, I had already stepped into it, and there was no way out.