"Ma'am, I'm sorry to bother you again, but when exactly are you coming home? It's already late April, and Don Fausto wants you back before the elections. He's been asking me every day," Micheal said, his voice a mix of urgency and nervousness.
I let out a sharp exhale, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Do you ever get tired of nagging me? I said I'd go home, didn't I? The election will happen with or without me standing around smiling for the cameras."
"Ma'am, please don't be upset. It's not me-it's the Don's orders. You know how he is. He says your presence is non-negotiable. It's about showing unity as a family, especially now," Micheal pressed, sounding almost apologetic.
"I know how he is," I muttered, my voice bitter. "He thinks I'm some trophy to parade around. Just tell him I'll call him later, okay? I need to-"
"Also," Micheal interrupted, though hesitantly, "the Don insists you return early for the auction. You know it's a big event, and everyone expects you to be there."
I clenched my jaw, feeling my frustration boil over. "Micheal, do you know how exhausting this is? I have a life here. I can't just drop everything because my father wants me to play a perfect daughter. Tell him I'll be there next week. That's the best I can do."
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "I understand, ma'am. I'll let him know. But please, just be careful about what you say to him. You know how he gets."
"Yeah, I know," I said curtly before ending the call again.
I tossed the phone onto the bed and rubbed my temples. It was always the same-orders disguised as requests, expectations piling up like a mountain I didn't want to climb.
The phone buzzed once more, but I didn't bother looking this time. I knew it was Micheal again, trying to get me to commit to something I had no energy for.
My father is the governor of our province, a man revered by many, and now he's running for re-election. I've told him time and time again that we should step away from politics. It's dangerous, draining, and completely unnecessary. But he won't listen. He insists it's his duty to serve the people, no matter the risks.
The thought made my chest tighten. I had my own job, and my own life, and yet I was constantly pulled back into his world of power and expectations.
I packed the last of my things and stood in front of the mirror, staring at my reflection.
I whispered to myself, "For once, I just want to breathe."
Before the night ended, I decided I would take a break from all of it. Tonight was mine.
I took my time getting ready, slipping into a black skirt that hugged my hips and a red sleeveless crop top that showed just enough to turn heads. I lined my eyes with dark eyeliner, swiped on bold red lipstick, and smiled at the woman in the mirror.
"Gonna make this night unforgettable," I murmured, picking up my clutch and heading out.
The club was alive with energy, the bass of the music vibrating through my chest. I walked straight to the bar, ordered a drink, and let the atmosphere wash over me.
The bartender handed me my drink, and I took a slow sip, savoring the sweet burn. My outfit and confident posture caught the attention of a few people, but I wasn't in the mood to entertain just anyone.
That's when I saw him.
He was standing near the edge of the dance floor, his sharp features highlighted by the flickering lights. His tailored shirt clung to his frame, and his piercing gaze scanned the crowd with an air of indifference.
A mischievous grin tugged at my lips as I downed the rest of my drink and made my way to the dance floor. I let the music take over, swaying my hips to the rhythm, my movements deliberate and inviting.
I felt a hand slide around my waist, firm but not forceful. I turned slightly to see the man from across the room. His smirk was subtle but dangerously alluring.
"You dance like you own the place," he said, his voice smooth and deep, barely audible over the music.
"Maybe I do," I replied, raising an eyebrow.
He chuckled, leaning closer. "And here I thought I'd seen everything."
I smirked, tilting my head back so I could meet his gaze. "You're not from around here, are you?"
He shrugged, his fingers tightening slightly on my waist. "Does it matter?"
"It does," I said, my voice dropping to a playful whisper. "You might not survive the night if you're not careful."
His grin widened, a spark of amusement lighting up his eyes. "I like a little danger."
The banter was electric, the tension between us building with every word.
"I'm Draco," he said, his lips brushing close to my ear.
I turned to face him fully, a sly smile on my lips. "Draco, huh? Sounds like trouble."
He leaned in closer, his voice low and teasing. "Only if you want it to be."
I didn't respond with words. Instead, I grabbed the back of his neck and pulled him into a kiss. His lips were warm and confident, meeting mine with an intensity that made my heart race.
For a moment, it felt like the rest of the world disappeared.
But then his phone buzzed. He pulled back reluctantly, glancing at the screen with a faint scowl.
"One second," he muttered, brushing a quick kiss on my forehead before stepping away.
I watched him weave through the crowd, disappearing into the shadows of the club.
Annoyed, I grabbed a seat nearby and crossed my arms. My skin still burned from his touch, and my mind replayed the kiss over and over.
When I saw him head outside, I followed instinctively, only to watch him get into a sleek black car and drive off without so much as a goodbye.
I laughed softly to myself, shaking my head.
Draco Amancio Echeverria-wild, untouchable, and unforgettable.
For tonight, I was glad to have gotten close enough to taste his world.