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Delilah

Delilah swung open the cab door, her heart racing as she stepped onto the cracked pavement, the chill of the evening air wrapping around her like a damp blanket. She squinted at the street, her brow furrowing as she took in the stark façade of the unremarkable brick building ahead. Splotches of graffiti splattered across the neighboring shops seemed to leech the vibrancy from the scenery, and a shiver danced along her spine.

"Is this really where I'm supposed to be?" she muttered to herself, glancing at the flickering streetlight as if it might offer some reassurance. The name "Iron Horse" echoed in her mind like a stubborn itch; it had to be the right place, but the atmosphere felt more foreboding than festive.

As she turned back to watch the cab disappear into the shadows, a gust of wind cut through her coat, sending a jolt of ice along her skin. She hugged her arms tighter, feeling exposed in her sleek outfit─a stark contrast to the gritty surroundings.

The beat of music pulsed like a heartbeat from within the building, growing louder with each hesitant step she took toward the imposing metal doors that loomed like a gateway to another world. With every step, her mind flickered with images of a glittering dance floor and laughing customers, yet here she stood, on the brink of something altogether different. It felt more like an underground rave scene from a movie than the lively night out she'd imagined with Phoebe.

As she approached the club, the heavy doors swung open, revealing a pulsating world of lights and sound. A tall, pale figure loomed just inside the foyer, his eyes locking onto her with an intensity that made her skin prickle. It was a gaze that felt too predatory, too hungry, like a wolf sizing up its next meal.

"You can check in your coat and scarf over there," he said, his voice smooth and laced with something unsettling as he continued to appraise her.

She walked away from him and hurried to the coat check, where a lady waited behind a counter, her cheerful grin in sharp contrast to the man's disturbing stare. Though the woman's vibrant makeup was a bit much for Delilah's taste, at least she didn't seem to be undressing her with her eyes.

"Just slip your ID inside your right pocket," the attendant instructed, her cheerful demeanor fading just as her striking blue eyes scanned Delilah with a mix of warmth and professionalism. "When you come back for it, we can identify the owner."

"Oh. Sure," Delilah replied, her mind drifting to the inviting atmosphere of the club.

It was far more luxurious than she'd anticipated, with plush seating and ambient lighting creating an inviting warmth that wrapped around her like a soft blanket, coaxing her to shed her coat despite the chill she had braved outside.

She paused to admire her reflection in a polished surface. The white dress she had chosen clung to her curves, a daring choice for a night out. It was new─untested territory for her─but it felt like the best option, given the lack of nightlife in her hometown. However, when she looked about at the other customers displaying their fashion-forward ensembles, a shred of doubt crept in. Had she made a mistake?

Delilah turned back to meet the tall man's piercing gaze, now transformed into a wide grin that cut through the dim lighting, its sincerity feeling out of place in the eerie ambiance. The smile didn't reach his eyes; instead, they glinted with a desire that sent a fresh wave of unease washing over her.

"Maybe you wouldn't mind me buying you a drink," he said, his piercing gaze fastened on hers like a predator analyzing its next prey.

"I'm meeting my girlfriend," she replied, forcing a smile that felt more like a mask than a genuine expression. The words tumbled out as she glanced around, her heart quickening. "I prefer not to keep her waiting."

The man's lips curled into a sneer, his disappointment palpable in the air between them. He turned away, his posture rigid, but his eyes remained glued to her, an unsettling watchfulness that made the back of her neck prickle.

Delilah felt her irritation boiling. She accelerated her pace as she moved deeper into the club, feeling a slight sense of relief with each step she took away from him. The sharp click of her heels echoed around her, but the pulsating music swallowed the sound as she stepped into the expansive room ahead.

A dramatic disco ball hung from the ceiling, its light scattering across the dance floor like stars in a night sky. The air throbbed with the beat, laughter and shouts weaving through the melody. Tables lined the walls, occupied by clusters of people, while the dance floor thrummed with bodies swaying to the rhythm, carefree and lost in the moment.

The ambiance was thick with romance as couples nestled in corners, lost in their own worlds. Phoebe had insisted they meet here, despite it not being her ideal waiting spot. She scanned the upper level, searching for a familiar face.

"You made it!" a voice rang out, breaking through her thoughts. A flicker of relief warmed her as she spotted her friend waving from a cozy nook.

She settled into the plush seat next to Phoebe, her eyes drifting over the vibrant scene below. The dance floor pulsed with energy, a swirling kaleidoscope of flashing lights and bodies moving in sync to the thumping beat. Delilah traced the rim of her glass; condensation pooled on the table like excitement buzzing in the air.

"Wow, this place is something else!" Phoebe shouted, her voice barely piercing through the bass. Her eyes sparkled with delight, illuminating her face in the colorful glow. "I can't wrap my head around why people keep coming to a place like this. Anton recommended it to me!"

Delilah smiled with relief. Knowing she wasn't alone in feeling a little lost in the electric atmosphere that seemed to swallow them whole provided comfort.

"How was your meeting?" she asked, leaning closer, her words almost swallowed by the pulsating rhythm.

Phoebe's expression darkened, her shoulders slumping as she let out a loud sigh. "Ugh, horrible," she groaned, her voice laced with frustration. "Collecting money from some of the buyers is exhausting. They believe they can undercut Mr. King simply because he allows them to handle the tab. It's outrageous."

Delilah's eyebrows shot up in surprise, her mind racing to grasp the weight of Phoebe's words. "Did they repay their bill?" she asked, her curiosity palpable.

With a flick of her wrist, Phoebe grasped her amber drink, taking a few small sips as her gaze roamed the crowd. "It took some convincing," she admitted, her eyes darting around as if searching for the offenders. "I have a strong feeling that one of the clients will express their opinions about me to the boss."

"Are you concerned?"

Phoebe shook her head, a confident smile breaking through. "Nope," she declared, her tone light. "We immediately let go the last client who attempted to cheat the bill. Mr. King isn't a fan of that sort of behavior."

Delilah didn't know much about Aiden, except that he was the kind of boss who understood the value of loyalty and respect─traits rare in the corporate world. She smiled at the thought that he would always support his employees, even in impossible situations.

"I hope you don't mind coming here," Phoebe said, glancing around as the music pulsed in their chests. "I had a little task to handle before you got here, but I expected it to be more than this since everyone talks about it so much!" She shrugged, her adventurous spirit undeterred.

The pulsing bass and flashing lights surrounded them, but a quiet unease flickered beneath Phoebe's smile. Delilah's heart sank as she wrestled with the realization: her friend wasn't thriving in this chaotic atmosphere.

"I take it that clubs aren't your thing?" Delilah ventured, a hint of concern in her voice.

Phoebe wrinkled her nose, the corners of her mouth twitching as if to erase the noise around them. "I enjoy jazz clubs," she admitted, her voice barely rising above the thumping music. "They're quieter, not drowning in wild dancers." A determined glint sparked in her eyes. "But hey, let's make the most of tonight and have fun. Next time, how about coffee or a movie?"

Delilah's heart danced at the thought, a wide smile breaking across her face. The idea was delightful, almost like the sweet anticipation of a first date.

Without warning, Phoebe straightened and stared across the room at something or someone. Delilah followed her friend's focus, spotting a striking figure slipping into the VIP section. The pale man had an enigmatic allure, his red eyes cutting through the crowd like a beacon.

"Who's that?" Delilah wondered if he was a part of Phoebe's world.

Before she could voice her curiosity, her friend slammed her glass down with a newfound vigor. "How about we grab a couple of drinks and hit the dance floor?" Phoebe's eyes sparkled with mischief, a playful grin spreading across her face. "Let's make these men worship the ground we walk on!"

Delilah watched as her gaze lingered on the handsome stranger, but she held her tongue, sensing a shift in Phoebe's demeanor. Instead, she nodded, feeling the contagious excitement spark between them as they made their way to the bar.

When Phoebe arrived, she paused and turned to Delilah with a mischievous glint. "Hey! Why don't you grab a drink since I've already had one? I'm going to take a quick bathroom break; my bladder is killing me."

With that, Phoebe darted away, leaving Delilah to absorb the vibrant chaos swirling around her, the thrill of the night just beginning.

The lights above flickered like stars, but all Delilah could focus on was the promise of a refreshing cocktail. As she leaned against the counter, she couldn't help but flash a smile at the bartender, who was busy mixing drinks with an impressive flair.

"Cosmo, please," she chimed, her anticipation bubbling over.

"The drink's on me," a voice purred from beside her, smooth and deep like dark chocolate, sending a delightful shiver down her spine.

Turning, Delilah found Draven standing there, every bit as striking as she remembered. His playful grin ignited a warmth in her cheeks that she couldn't quite suppress.

"How did you find this place?" he inquired, his eyes flashing with mirth.

Just then, the bartender slid her drink towards her, the glass glimmering under the club's strobe lights. Draven's smile broadened as he held her gaze, and she couldn't escape the sensation that there was more to him than what initially appeared.

"You know, there truly is nothing more alluring than free-spirited people," he remarked, his voice like silk wrapping around her thoughts. "I'm here for business, but I know the owner."

Delilah raised an eyebrow, skepticism etched on her features. She took a sip of her drink, the vibrant flavors mingling on her tongue.

"Do antique dealers conduct their business within clubs? Or whatever your job entails?" She shot back, intrigued yet cautious.

His laughter was warm and inviting, a spark that made her heart race. "This dealer is different." He winked, leaving a trail of questions behind him.

The thought of him being involved in something shady lingered in her mind, like a persistent shadow.

Delilah scanned the bustling room, the crowd swaying to the music as laughter filled the air. Phoebe was nowhere in sight, and she felt a pang of anxiety at the thought of navigating through this sea of strangers alone. She took another sip of her drink, the warmth of the alcohol beginning to envelop her.

"White looks lovely on you," Draven said, his gaze sweeping over her like a caress. "You're almost like an angel. Aiden's... angel."

Her fingers brushed over the fabric of her dress, the memory of its discomfort fleeting away under his scrutiny. She still grappled with how the fitted silhouette accentuated her curves more than she had intended, but for a moment, she let herself bask in Draven's compliment.

"This was a gift from my cousin," she replied, a hint of defensiveness creeping into her voice the moment Liz's name escaped her lips.

"Do you have a close relationship with her?" he probed, curiosity evident in his eyes.

Delilah shook her head, the briefest flash of hurt crossing her features. Setting her empty glass down, she forced a lighthearted tone.

"Nope. Liz and my ex-boyfriend hooked up while we were together, which is why I moved to Denver." A wave of nostalgia washed over her, but she steadied herself, focusing on her cousin's positive qualities. "She's a photographer who journeys around the world. Every now and again, she sends something fun that she thinks will look good on me. Hence, this dress."

As they stood there, the music pulsing around them, Delilah felt the weight of her past lifting, if only for a moment, beneath the charm of the man beside her.

She caught a brief glimpse of something sorrowful in Draven's eyes, a shadow that suggested untold stories. The way he spoke, with a hint of that Southern drawl she thought she had noticed before, made her wonder if he hailed from the rich streets of New Orleans.

"Ah, Liz made a fantastic choice," he remarked, his subtle grin hinting at a deeper insight. "Garments from various regions across the globe hold their unique stories. Despite the treacherous path she laid before you, she couldn't have chosen a better-crafted piece for your ensemble."

Heat flooded her cheeks, creeping up her neck with the weight of his words. His admiration felt like sunshine pouring into a dim room, and though she recognized he had a keen eye for fashion, it still stirred something warm and fluttery inside her.

"Would you do me the honor of a dance?" Draven asked, his gaze steady and sincere, anchoring her amidst the swirling crowd. "Don't worry, I assure you, my interests lie elsewhere."

A flicker of curiosity flashed through her as she recalled the unspoken connection between him and Merrick from the previous night. She hesitated, but just as she began to shake her head, he clasped her hand, his grip gentle yet insistent, leading her toward the gleaming dance floor.

"Please, this dress deserves a moment to shine," Draven urged, a playful twinkle in his eye. "Besides, a dance with me would distract the creatures in here from staring at you like you're supper."

Her laughter rose, a reflection of Liz's vibrant spirit. "Alright, but only until Phoebe returns from the restroom."

A broad smile broke across his face, illuminating the space around them. "As you wish, Ms. Fox."

As they swayed to the soft rhythm of the music, the elegant melody wrapped around them like a warm embrace. Delilah relished this slower pace, the subtle intimacy of the dance─none of the raucous grinding that filled the room around them.

"So, how long have you and Mr. King been in business together?" she ventured, twirling under his careful guidance.

Draven's expression shifted, a thoughtful sigh escaping his lips. "A few years, but Aiden? He's a challenging man to work with, a true lone wolf," he said, his smirk betraying a note of camaraderie.

She chuckled, her mind fogged with a heady mix of intrigue and alcohol. "You've got that right."

Since the other night, the image of Aiden as a wolf lingered in her thoughts, a tantalizing blend of reality and fantasy that refused to fade. She was certain that the alcohol wasn't deceiving her. With a resolve settling in her chest, she decided to keep that secret locked away until Aiden was ready to unveil it himself.

Delilah glanced up at Draven, sensing the pause in their conversation. "What?" she asked, curiosity piquing at his sudden scrutiny.

He examined her closely, squinting as though searching the very depths of her soul. "Fascinating. You're special, Ms. Fox. It's time we uncover what you truly are."

Her stomach twisted, tightening with doubt, as she swallowed hard. The evening was just beginning, and a thrill of excitement coursed through her.

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