Camilla caught a glint of danger in the man’s bottomless dark eyes and couldn’t help but blush, her nerves getting the better of her as she opted for a temporary retreat.
"I just came out to grab a few things."
A faint smirk curled at the corner of Sinclair’s lips, his low, husky voice laced with unspoken intent.
Just wait a little longer."
Clutching her bathrobe and undergarments, Camilla hurriedly ducked back into the bathroom.
Before she could even catch her breath, the reflection in the vanity mirror revealed the strikingly handsome man stepping in after her.
"Sinclair, what are you—?"
His lips parted slightly, those dark eyes gleaming with mischief.
Steam rose, blurring everything into obscurity.
—— The night breeze carried a faint chill.
A tall, strikingly handsome man stood by a car at the street corner, smoking a cigarette, his entire being radiating an icy aura.
His deep, obsidian eyes, veiled by wisps of grayish-white smoke, were filled with unmistakable worry and guilt.
Sinclair and Camilla were enjoying their private time together, while Calvin and Tiffany had already returned home.
But Melissa—she was unfamiliar with this city.
Where on earth could she have gone?
Vicente took another drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling around him like a storm cloud.
Beside him, Helena couldn’t stand it any longer.
"Boss, Miss Taylor is in her twenties, not ten. She’s sharp as a tack—"
Before he could finish, Vicente cut him off with a voice simmering with barely restrained fury.
"One more word, and I’ll shut you up myself."
Helena rolled his eyes and turned away, muttering under his breath, "If I could take you in a fight, you think I’d just stand here and take your threats?"
Exhaling a slow stream of smoke, Vicente shot him a razor-sharp glare, his lips parting to deliver another warning—
A burly man pulled up in a car and jogged over, his expression tense as he faced Vicente.
Vicente’s cigarette-holding hand paused mid-air as his eyes narrowed sharply.
Helena turned his gaze toward them as well.
the man answered, carefully studying Vicente’s expression before continuing hesitantly.
"Drowning her sorrows, is she? Alone?"
She’s drinking with a few college students from America," the man admitted, bracing himself as he realized Helena had zeroed in on the detail he’d hoped to downplay.
"We didn’t want to upset her, so we kept our distance."
Vicente’s brow furrowed as he flicked the cigarette butt to the ground and crushed it under his heel with deliberate force.
"Take me there. Now."
Vincent slid into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.
Helena, who had been resting in the passenger seat, winced as the sudden loud noise pierced his ears.
Calvin shot Vicente an irritated glare but swallowed the complaint on the tip of his tongue—knowing full well he was no match for the man.
She’s not going anywhere."
Ignoring him, Vicente started the car and sped off.
"You should be glad we found her at all."
Helena rolled his eyes discreetly.
Bros before hoes—except when it’s the other way around.*
Watching the scenery blur past the window, he silently tightened his seatbelt.
Meanwhile, inside Approach Bar.
Thanks to its prime location, the place was already packed long before midnight.
Patrons shed the weight of their daytime stresses, losing themselves in the pulsing music.
The air hung thick with the mingled scents of tobacco and alcohol, heavy with an unspoken decadence.
Approach Bar. Located in the most bustling district of E Country’s capital, this establishment straddled the line between a lively bar and a relaxed lounge.
The decor and music struck the perfect balance—energetic without being overwhelming.
It was a favored spot for those entertaining clients or simply looking to spend lavishly.
Even before midnight, the place was packed. Melissa sat alone in a corner booth, nursing her drink.
Dressed in a fitted black top and a gray pleated skirt, her fair, delicate face was free of makeup.
Amidst a sea of heavily made-up patrons, her natural beauty stood out, radiating an innocent sweetness that drew more than a few admiring glances.
Time and again, men from E Country eyed her with interest, itching to approach.
But before they could take a step, shadowy figures intercepted them.
"How many guys have we stopped already?
Why isn’t Boss Vincent here yet?"
"Boss Vincent’s not exactly around the corner.
No matter how urgent it is, he can’t just teleport here."
"Still, after all these years following him, I’ve never seen him this frantic—not even when bullets were lodged in his body."
That’s why you should never get involved with love."
I kinda want to give it a shot." ... Later, a group of young American exchange students arrived late and couldn’t secure a booth.
Spotting Melissa sitting alone, they hesitantly asked if they could join her.
Out of camaraderie—and because they were around her age—Melissa didn’t refuse.
Besides, drinking alone was just drinking.
With more people, she could drink even more.
Back when she used to watch her older brother drown his sorrows over love, she never understood it.
The memory of seeing Vicente entangled with that woman at the restaurant earlier today resurfaced, sending another wave of bitterness and anger through her. She downed her glass in one go.
Tomorrow, she’d return to San Francisco and never have anything to do with that two-faced bastard again.
A girl’s voice snapped Melissa out of her thoughts.
"Melissa, fate’s chosen you again!"
The girl spinning the bottle grinned, the neck of the bottle pointing squarely in Melissa’s direction.
Melissa picked up the wine glass with an indifferent expression.
"I’ll have a drink." ... Before long.
"Brother Vincent’s here," said the long-haired man who’d been keeping an eye on Melissa, gesturing to his phone.
I’ll go out and guide them in."
"Go ahead. The sooner Boss Vincent takes his girl back, the sooner we can all get some rest."
The long-haired man nodded and walked out. Outside the bar.
The door of a black Mercedes G-Class swung open, and out stepped a tall, powerfully built man wearing a baseball cap.
His face was obscured, but the sharp line of his jaw exuded an air of cold intensity.
The simplest black shirt and pants clung to his broad, muscular back, his lean and defined waist, and his long, toned legs.
Every inch of him radiated raw magnetism, an aura of barely restrained power.
Beside him stepped out a stunning, curvaceous ’bombshell’—a vision of seductive allure.
Yet that face was undeniably tinged with resentment.
The long-haired man who came out to greet Vicente couldn’t help but show a flicker of admiration and confusion upon seeing the scene.
Since when did Brother Vincent have a beauty by his side?
And why did this beauty feel vaguely familiar?
Helena curled his lips at the long-haired man, flashing a smile that didn’t reach his eyes.
"Had your fill of staring?"
Calvin didn’t bother lowering his voice, letting his unmistakably masculine tone ring clear.
The admiration in his eyes shattered instantly, replaced by a dazed look of existential doubt. "Helena, next time, could you either not speak at all or at least wait a little longer before opening your mouth?"
Vicente cut in, interrupting the exchange.
The long-haired man nodded.
"Yeah, Sister-in-law’s been sitting here since the bar opened.
She had quite a bit to drink."
"Wait here," Vicente frowned and turned to Helena.
Vincent led Helena inside.