Chapter 1 - Letting go
Erlah walked into a bar, wearing a dress she wouldn’t dare wear whether it was a regular or a normal day. It was less of a dress and more of an event. Black sheer mesh stretched taut over her torso, strategically paneled with opaque silk that covered only what was strictly necessary, leaving the rest visible under a veil of dark shadow. It didn't hide a thing; it framed her, turning her body into something deliberate and unapologetic.
Speakeasy: an elite, velvet-draped underground bar where the ultra-wealthy came to disappear. It's an upscale, sophisticated lounge known for its elegant ambiance, premium drinks, impeccable service, and distinguished clientele. As she walked towards her booth, most eyes turned towards her. It was funny; she thought this luxurious bar only worked on reservations.
Well, there could be exceptions, and she was no normal person either. She was rich; yes, she was rich. She was a millionaire who built her empire from scratch. She worked hard.She could almost swear it if someone denied that she didn’t. Her dream was only one: to be able to afford whatever the hell she wanted. She had a group of companies; she was pretty much loaded. And for some insane reason, that didn’t seem to boost her self-esteem.
The waitress had to call her a couple of times to break her reverie. "What can I get you, miss?" she asked. She never liked to come to bars for meetings with business partners like some other business owners. She wasn’t a fan of alcohol either, but tonight, she was letting everything go. "Surprise me," she replied. The waitress smiled. Surprise her? Oh no, she would blow her mind, hoping for a big tip. She felt privileged working in a place like this. She got to meet high-class people, famous artists and actresses, etc. The tips she received sometimes exceeded her salary, and she was grateful for that. She headed to the bartender. "The usual," she said.
He knew exactly what she wanted. Meanwhile, Erlah sat quietly, very aware of the eyes that turned in her direction from time to time.
She almost cowered, but she said to herself, "We're not caring about anyone or what they think." Not many people knew her anyway. She never liked the attention, unlike someone else. She got lost in thought again. The waitress arrived just then. "Here you go, miss." She sat alone in a corner booth, nursing her fourth drink. The waitress didn’t disappoint. She loved this drink. She sighed heavily. Julian had spent the entire evening at dinner tearing down her latest quarterly report, claiming her success was "pure luck" and that she'd be nowhere without his social clout. She almost swore. Disgusted, she had walked out, and here she was. She was on her fifth drink now. Feeling the alcohol haze warm her blood, she stood up to find the restroom.She turned down the wrong hallway, taking a private, heavy-wood staircase to the second floor reserved exclusively for the club owners. Dizzied by the bourbon, she pushed open a heavy double door, expecting a vanity room. Instead, she walked into a dimly lit, plush leather lounge. At the central table sat three men, surrounded by stacks of high-level acquisition files and crystal glasses. Conversation died instantly.
For Alexander, Ezekiel, and Ezra, the speakeasy lounge hadn't been a place to talk business—it was the final stop on a grueling sixteen-hour marathon. They had been stuck in back-to-back meetings since seven that morning, negotiating high-stakes acquisitions and fending off foreign investors. To smooth over the tension of multi-million dollar deals, they'd been forced to drink endless rounds of top-shelf scotch and bourbon with their business partners all afternoon and evening.By the time the last investor left the private second-floor suite, all three brothers were comfortably, dangerously tipsy. The alcohol had loosened their usual rigid restraint, leaving them in a rare state of relaxed, unfiltered intensity—which made the sudden appearance of a stunning, breathless woman in a black sheer dress feel less like an interruption and more like an intoxicating reward from the universe.
Alexander Vane sat at the head of the table, his dark suit impeccably tailored, his intense gaze locking onto her immediately. Ezekiel stood near the fireplace, broad-shouldered and imposing, his sharp eyes narrowing as he evaluated the intruder. Ezra was slouched in an armchair, a wicked smile spreading across his handsome face.
"Lost, sweetheart?" Ezra's voice was a smooth, melodic purr that snapped Erlah out of her daze.
"I…I think I took a wrong turn," Erlah stammered, her cheeks burning. She turned to leave, but the bourbon made her footing betray her. Her high heel caught the edge of the plush Persian rug, and she stumbled sideways. Before she could hit the floor, heavy, warm hands caught her effortlessly. Alexander had crossed the room in a second. His large hands gripped her waist through the sheer mesh, his touch searing hot against her skin. "I've got you," he growled softly, bringing her upright. The sheer proximity of him—his scent of dark tobacco and cedar—made her breath catch. Ezekiel observed, standing up and approaching them. He reached out, his long fingers gently lifting her chin so she could meet his dark, commanding eyes. "You've had a bad night. Who put that look in your eyes?" Something about his quiet, absolute authority broke her composure. "Just…someone who thinks he owns me," she whispered, the alcohol stripping away her filter. Ezra stepped up behind her, his breath warm against the back of her neck as his hands slid down her shoulders, fingertips trailing over the sheer fabric.
"Nobody owns a woman like you," Ezra murmured, his voice laced with dangerous charm. "They should be on their knees thanking you for breathing the same air." And that was the moment the night spun out of control.
