8. Daddy Dearest

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Two weeks later

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Two weeks later.

Things are slowly getting back on track and the void is slowly being filled. 

Now, someone else is working in Kayla's place. I don't know who and didn't even bother to find out. I just don't care now.

After that tragic day, a heavy silence enveloped the area. Nobody dared to even mention the events of that night. The atmosphere was calm, with everyone carrying on as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, despite the brutal murder of a girl in front of hundreds of men.

"This needs to be placed in room number 11," the new employee, a replacement for Kayla, instructed in her robotic voice.

"Huh?" I frowned. Did she say room number 11? 11? I cleared my throat and she glanced at me. "What did you say? I mean which room number?"

She glanced at me, starting from my head and down to my feet, and then dismissively rolled her eyes. "11,"

"Oh well...look I'm busy so---" She shoved the bottle of Bourbon in my hands and redirected her focus to her work. I stood there, startled, my eyes wide open and my mouth agape. Did she just disregard my presence completely? Rolling my eyes, I muttered. "Bitch!!"

I turned away from her and walked toward the stairs, accepting my fate silently. I dared not glance at the lift because I didn't want to relive those minutes again.

I couldn't help but shudder as I replayed our last meeting in my mind. His commanding presence, piercing gaze, deep voice, and the palpable intensity surrounding him all conspired to weaken my resolve to stay away from him.

His silence had an unsettling aura, capable of sending shivers down your spine. This is what I noticed from the few interactions I had with him. He doesn't speak much, but when he does, his powerful, booming voice commands attention and respect.

He doesn't need to make threats because his mere gaze is more than enough to instill a sense of self-threat. This man exudes danger, far surpassing all others present. I am compelled to, no, it is imperative that I steer clear of this walking danger.

Now I am ascending the stairs to deliver his order, hoping not to find him alone. I dread the thought of what might happen if he is alone.

I arrived at room number 11, feeling a strong urge to flee, but the intriguing sounds from within piqued my curiosity.

I cautiously approached the door and heard Adonis's voice laced with anger and underlying sadness. "Where were you, huh? Where the fuck were you when I needed you the most!" 

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