Chapter 5: Crossing Lines
I stood up and moved to where Pedro and his P.A. had sat before. As I scanned the floor, I spotted his business card lying there and picked it up, then returned to my chair. Should I just call him? I wondered, anxiety gnawing at me. I couldn't bear the thought of losing my contract with the Swaiden Group.
Taking a deep breath, I dialed the number from the card. The phone rang for what felt like an eternity before it was finally picked up.
"Hello," a voice said, but it didn't sound like Pedro. I was momentarily speechless.
"Mr. Pedro, this is Anna Lukewarm," I managed to say.
"Hello," came another voice—now it was his. The first voice had been his P.A.'s.
"This is Anna Lukewarm," I repeated, trying to keep my composure.
"Miss Anna, can we talk later? I'm busy right now," he said, his tone dismissive.
"Let's work together," I blurted out before the call abruptly ended.
My phone rang immediately after.
"Really?" Pedro asked, surprise evident in his voice.
"What?" I replied, confusion creeping in.
"What you just said. Are you willing to work with us?" he pressed.
"Yes," I confirmed, my heart racing.
"Okay, since you finally made up your mind, how about meeting at Jazzo?" he suggested.
"Okay," I accepted, hanging up without even knowing what Jazzo was.
Thank God Kate walked in at that moment. "Mr. Kate, do you know Jazzo?" I asked, hoping for some clarity.
"Jazzo? Isn't that located beside the Spree Mall, about four miles from here?" he replied.
"Okay," I said, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. I had driven past the Spree Mall countless times and had never noticed Jazzo.
As evening approached, I could hardly contain my anticipation. I told Kate not to drive me home; I wanted to go alone. I drove myself, my mind racing as I located Jazzo. When I finally arrived, the sign with "JAZZO" blinked in vibrant colors, drawing me in.
I stepped out of my car, my heart pounding. It was a club. He will never change, I thought to myself as I entered the building. The atmosphere was electric—ladies in mini skirts, men dancing with women, some kissing, others clinking wine glasses together.
I slid my phone out to call Pedro, but the loud music drowned out his voice. People brushed past me, jostling me as they entered. Frustrated, I decided to text him instead.
Moments later, a man approached, trying to touch my face. I instinctively bit his hand, and he screamed, pulling back just as he raised his hand to slap me. Before he could react, Pedro's P.A. rushed over and shoved him away.
"Miss Anna, please follow me," he said, his demeanor calm as he led the way. As we walked, I heard a moan from a corner—an intimate scene unfolding between a couple, their clothes nearly coming off. This was only my second time in a club, and I felt out of place, uncomfortable in the chaos.
We finally reached a private area marked "VIP." The atmosphere shifted, and I felt a sense of relief.
"Welcome," Pedro said, as the strippers and his P.A. exited the room. He gestured for me to sit.
"I never knew you would change your mind. You almost lost that opportunity; someone else was about to sign it when you called," he remarked, handing me the document.
I signed it quickly and handed it back to him. "You still don't know me?" I asked, curiosity piqued.
"Did you want me to?" he countered, a smirk playing on his lips.
"Okay," I said, grabbing my bag to leave. But before I could step away, he hugged me from behind.
"Anna, I missed you. How can I forget you?" he said, his voice low and intimate. I was shocked by his reaction; we had never been this close, and we were supposed to be enemies. I turned to face him.
"Isn't that what you want?" he asked, his expression shifting.
"I can never forget you, witch," he said, his voice dripping with disdain. This was the real Pedro, the one I remembered.
"Don't cross the line," he added, smirking as he let go of me. His eyes held a challenge, a reminder that he had made me sign the contract to complicate my life further.
As I stepped out, his P.A. and the strippers re-entered the room, the door closing behind me.
"He would never change," I said angrily, the words escaping my lips like a bitter taste.
As I turned to leave, the chaotic energy of the club faded into the background. I no longer noticed the couple in the corner, lost in their own world. I marched straight to my car, my heart racing with a mix of anger and determination.
I drove home, the city lights blurring past me,