Elio gave a simple nod, his expression unreadable. Without needing more words, she led him past the crowd, through the velvet curtain into the private VIP area. The music dimmed slightly here, with more bass than lyrics, more shadows than light.
The room was plush, sleek, and intimate, designed for people who didn't want to be seen unless they chose to be.
She gestured toward a corner booth.
Elio slid into the seat, resting his arm on the back cushion, his posture casual but tense. His jaw clenched slightly as he glanced around, eyes taking in everything but connecting with nothing.
"Something strong?" the woman asked.
He didn't even look at her. "Surprise me."
She left silently.
Elio leaned back into the seat, loose his tie, his eyes half-lidded now, staring into the dim glow of the room. He wasn't here to socialize or be noticed. He was here to escape.
But no matter how far the music pushed into his mind, Isabella's image still sat right across from him.
A few moments later, another club attendee returned a bottle of wine. She approached his booth with quiet steps, careful not to disturb the brooding calm that surrounded him.
Elio's eyes were still half-lidded, lost somewhere between memory and the haze of the music. He barely registered her presence until she placed the bottle gently on the table.
"Your wine, sir," she said softly, offering the glass to him with both hands.
He blinked slowly, shifting just enough to take the glass from her fingers without meeting her eyes.
"Thanks," he muttered, voice low and rough.
She nodded once, professionally, then stepped back and walked toward the entrance. Elio took a slow sip of the wine, letting it settle on his tongue before swallowing. The flavor was rich, dark berries with a smoky undertone, smooth yet bold. It wasn't just good; it was grounding.
The taste was cool against the back of his throat, strong enough to dull the buzz in his head and slow the ache in his chest. For a brief second, it pulled him out of his thoughts. He let out a quiet breath, leaning deeper into the booth's cushions, his fingers still curled loosely around the glass. The music throbbed in the background, but it felt distant now. For the first time all night, he felt… still.
From across the dimly lit VIP lounge, Maya sat curled into the plush corner of a velvet booth, a cocktail in hand, legs crossed elegantly. She had been there long before Elio arrived, waiting because she knew his usual club and she already confirmed it with someone from the company that left the company alone.
When Elio walked in, her eyes locked on him instantly. She smirks, that this is the man she has always wanted, there isn't mistaking him, tall, commanding, tailored to perfection even when visibly tired. He walked like the world owed him space, and it gave way without question. Maya had always noticed that about him. Even in college, even before the suits and empire, Elio Wilson carried silence like it was armor.
She watched closely as the staff guided him to his usual spot, a dark corner that suited his mood too well tonight. She sipped slowly, lips barely touching the rim of her glass, eyes following every slight movement he made, the way he sat back, the way he didn't speak, the way he accepted the wine like he didn't taste it at all.
She knew that look, that absence, that was the look of a man trying to forget.
And she knew exactly who he was trying to forget and that stung more than she expected.
"Isabella", she murmured and then scoffed.
The name left a bitter taste in her mouth, more than the alcohol ever could. Always her. Always the soft-spoken, graceful girl who floated through rooms without effort and somehow owned Elio's entire attention without lifting a finger.
As the attendant was walking out, she walked toward Maya and whispered something in her ear. She nodded, and the attendant walked out.
Maya shifted in her seat and smirked, her eyes narrowing slightly. She had returned for him for a chance; she straightened her posture, pushed down her off-shoulder peach short gown to show her cleavage, she finished her drink, and set it down with quiet resolve.
Elio had downed half his glass, letting the smooth burn of the wine settle his nerves. But something felt off, this wasn't just the haze of alcohol. It was heavier, slower, like the room was spinning in soft circles he couldn't control.
He blinked hard, trying to control himself, but when he looked up, his chest tightened.
Maya walked toward him, heels clicking softly against the floor, her dress hugging her frame. But it wasn't just her, it was the way his mind twisted the moment. Her silhouette blurred, her features softening. For a fleeting second, all he saw was Isabella.
The curve of her lips. The gentle way she moved. The eyes that looked at him not with control, but with something deeper.
"Elio," Maya said, her voice cutting through the fog.
He blinked again, and the illusion cracked. It was her. It was always Maya.
But his mind didn't want to let go.
He squinted, breathing unevenly. "Isabella?" he muttered under his breath, confused, hurt, and too far gone to hide it.
Maya reached the table, a smile painted perfectly on her lips and slid into the seat across from him. "Missed me already?" she teased.
Elio sat back, eyes heavy, the buzz in his head no longer a gentle hum, but he couldn't fight it. Couldn't stop the way his vision blurred.
Maya sat across from him, legs crossed, her perfume thick in the air.
But all he saw… was Isabella, her face, her eyes.
He blinked slowly, lips parting as if to speak, but no words came.
"Isabella…" he whispered.
Maya tilted her head, amused, but said nothing. She watched him closely, drinking in the way he looked at her like she was someone else, like he wanted to touch her, speak to her, but couldn't bring himself to move.
"Elio," Maya said softly, reaching for his hand.
He didn't flinch. In his eyes, all he saw was Isabella. The girl he couldn't have. The girl who walked away the night before.
He looked dazed because whatever Maya had planned was working.
And Elio was falling, not for her… but for the illusion of someone else.
But it didn't matter to Maya, not even a little. Even if he could look at her through the image of someone else, so be it. If that's what it took to have his eyes on her, his voice softened for Maya, even if it wasn't really her he was seeing… she'd take it.
Because Maya didn't care how she got him, she just wanted him. She just wanted to be the one he looked at, even if the gaze wasn't meant for her, even if it was another woman's name on his lips.
She smiled, leaning forward slightly, fingers brushing against his on the table, he didn't pull away. He was too far gone now, drunk, drugged, broken by longing.
"Whatever you see right now, Elio," she murmured, "I'm here. And I'm not going anywhere."
And deep down, it hurt, but she didn't care if it wasn't real as long as he reached for her.
Elio's mind was adrift, the wine coursing through him like a slow, warm tide. But this was more than intoxication, it was a haze that blurred reality. As Maya approached, her features softened in his vision, morphing into Isabella's familiar face. He blinked, trying to clear his sight, but the illusion persisted.
Maya reached his table, her presence commanding. "Elio," she said, her voice a gentle lure.
He looked up, eyes glassy. "Isabella?" he murmured, confusion lacing his tone.
She smiled, unfazed. "I'm here," she whispered, taking his hand.
He didn't resist. The world around him faded, leaving only the phantom of a woman he longed for and the one who stood before him.
They left the club together, Maya guiding him with a steady hand. The city lights blurred past as they reached the hotel. Inside the room, Elio sat on the edge of the bed, disoriented.
Maya knelt before him, her touch tender. "It's okay," she soothed, brushing his hair back.
He leaned into her, seeking solace in the familiar warmth, even if it was a mirage. For Maya, it didn't matter, She had him even if only in the shadow of another.
Elio stood by the window, staring out into the restless night. The city moved beneath him, cars and lights, But the only sound that reached him was the dull thrum of blood in his ears and the ghost of Isabella's name echoing silently in his mind.
Behind him, Maya lingered. Her heels had long been slipped off, her movements quiet, calculating. She knew he was drifting, his body here, his mind somewhere else. But he hadn't pushed her away and that was enough for her.
He turned to her slowly, the dim lights of the hotel room catching the faint glaze in his eyes, not just from the alcohol, but from everything he didn't say.
"Maya," he said at last, voice low and tired, "Why are you here?"
She took a few steps closer, stopping only when they were a breath apart. "You looked like you needed someone," she replied.
His gaze searched her face. For a moment, it almost seemed like he saw her clearly. But then his hand reached out again, fingers grazing her jaw. Gentle, hesitant, longing.
His touch was the kind that asked for something without words, distraction, or escape.
"I'm not her," Maya said softly, more to herself than him.
"I know," Elio murmured, but he didn't pull away.
He let her lead him to the bed. The air between them was thick, not just with the scent of expensive perfume and wine, but with the weight of unspoken things, desire, and confusion.
Elio sat down, elbows on his knees, head in his hands. Maya stood behind him, her fingers threading gently through his hair, down the back of his neck. He exhaled slowly, his shoulders falling with it.
He turned, finally meeting her eyes. "Just for tonight," he said quietly, almost a plea. "Make me forget."
And just like he stands up to meet her eyes and starts kissing her, she kisses him back. The kiss was deep, more like he wanted to quench the hunger inside him. He pressed himself on her and deepened the kiss; Maya let out a moan; her head was spinning; she started loosening his shirt, touching him; he turned and pushed her on the bed and continued to kiss her.
He trails down from her neck to… her cleavage, pushes down her gown, and sucks on her nipples. Maya let out a moan louder than before; she unzipped his trousers and kissed him back like she was craving for him; it was like that triggered something inside him. He then pressed her breasts hard and sucked on her nipples like they were begging him to.
For her, it was like a dream come true, but the way she was moaning was making Elio feel more hot. He pulled her up, off her gown…off her pants, and slid inside her, and that made her moan harder. She started calling his name, "Elio," she moaned.
He was sliding in and out of her, she then opened her leg for him so that she could take all of him and kiss him harder, sliding her tongue inside his mouth and that made Elio moan, he thrust harder, and Maya kept moaning his name, she pull him closer to her and whisper in his ear, "Get all of you inside of me and make me yours".
She then bites his ear, and that almost makes Elio go crazy; he thrusts harder, and both of them are now moaning louder. Elio gets on his knee and pulls Maya's legs up; he slides inside her and thrusts harder and faster until… he comes. He felt relieved, but his head was heavy, and his heart tightened… he then drifted off to sleep.
Maya was happiest that night, she was so happy that she took pictures of them together. It was everything she ever wanted, about their intimate moment, him claiming her, their body colliding together, him claiming her as his woman and she would do anything to make that happen, she looked at him, her hand trailing
his face, she traces down to his jawline, " Elio, you are mine and I will make sure of it" she said and smile lay down on his chest and slept off.