Forbidden Encounter

The overwhelming noise in the room caused Lily's head to throb as she looked around the vast area, desperately seeking a glimpse of Ethan's commanding presence.

This entertainment complex was far too vast, and the infuriating man hadn't even decided which level he would be occupying.

Just as Lily contemplated seeking out a quieter spot to call him, a middle-aged man sporting a "Guest Manager" badge approached her. "Excuse me, are you Miss Anderson?"

She gave a curt nod. "That's me."

"Mr. Blackwood is awaiting you in the VIP suite on the eleventh floor. If you'll please follow me." Without further preamble, the manager ushered her toward the elevators.

As Lily stepped into the lift, her peripheral vision caught a glimpse of a photograph clutched in the man's hand – an image of her younger self from her high school days. An icy tendril of trepidation slithered down her spine. How could he possibly have obtained such a picture?

Had the depraved Ethan truly been carrying around her photo all this time, like some deranged keepsake?

The notion chilled her to the core. From the moment they had met, he had addressed her by name, a fact that strongly implied a pre-existing familiarity with her. And yet, try as she might, Lily could dredge up no recollection of him whatsoever.

Was her memory truly so appallingly deficient?

With his striking features and serpentine charisma, Ethan was not a man one could easily forget. If their paths had crossed before this sordid affair, she would surely have retained some inkling, some fleeting impression of his presence.

The conundrum weighed heavily on her as the elevator doors slid open, and the manager escorted her into the VIP suite with a polite sweep of his arm. In stark contrast to the gaudy, sensory overload of the lower levels, this opulent space exuded an aura of refined exclusivity, more akin to a high-end private club than a hedonistic nightspot.

Scattered across plush leather sofas, a group of perhaps ten men and women lounged in various states of inebriation. The men ran the gamut from distinguished elders to fresh-faced youths, while the female contingent consisted solely of buxom beauties clad in revealing attire that left little to the imagination.

There, reclining with studied nonchalance in the center of the sumptuous arrangement, was the object of her quest. Ethan's muscular physique was on full display, his tie rakishly askew and his shirt undone just enough to afford a tantalizing glimpse of sculpted pectorals. Two scantily-clad vixens flanked him on either side, their silk-sheathed forms pressed brazenly against his.

"Who the hell let this wet blanket in?" one of the men slurred, his words virtually drowned out by the overall din as he gestured angrily at the open door with a crystal tumbler sloshing with amber liquid.

Lily felt acutely out of place in her simple sweater and jeans amid such opulent surroundings, a proverbial sore thumb amidst the sleek decadence.

As she wavered, poised to retreat, Ethan's penetrating gaze found her, his lips curling into a slow, predatory smile that sent an involuntary shiver racing along her spine. "There's my woman," he purred, his tone a rich blend of arrogance and thinly-veiled challenge. "Come, have a drink."

Her prim attire drew a derisive snort from the apex predator. "What, did you think this was a campus mixer?"

Still, the man acknowledged her prudence in seeking him out, lest she wish to compound the difficulties awaiting her.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mr. Blackwood's girlfriend!" One of the men hastened to scoot aside the clinging beauty at Ethan's left hand, gesturing for Lily to take her place. "Have a seat right here, darling."

Lily hesitated, every instinct screaming at her to cut her losses and flee this den of iniquity. Yet Ethan had already fixed her with that searing stare, his lips curving into a mocking smile of smug satisfaction as he issued his careless command. "My woman should join us for a drink."

He scoffed at her modest, unembellished attire, so starkly at odds with the debauched atmosphere. "Did you think this was some college frat party?"

Still, the inscrutable man gave her grudging credit for her discernment in seeking his favor, the subtle acknowledgment that to spurn him would only invite further torment.