THE DON'S CAPTIVE MISTRESS

Outfit Choice

HAZEL

I choke on my breath. He leans back, unbothered.

“I wouldn’t have let you,” I grit out.

And now we’re just staring at each other, eyes locked, unflinching, like neither of us is willing to look away first.

“Really? Because I feel like you're lying to me,” he says, voice low, deliberate. Then he leans back, his smirk sliding into place. “Because I remember you grinding on me. I remember how hard you kissed me back. And I remember the lust in your eyes, the hunger....how much you wanted me.”

I swallow, but I don’t look away. “That wasn’t for you.”

His jaw tenses.

“I was thinking about somebody else,” I finish, quietly but firmly.

That gets him. He looks away first.

I guess I win this round.

The silence stretches between us as the car glides forward through the city. Then, suddenly, he breaks it.

“I can have any woman I want,” he says casually, almost to himself. “And I mean any woman I want.”

Before I can even respond, the car slows. I glance outside and see flashing lights, people standing in a line, women shimmering in glitter, and men in suits. It's a club. But not one we've ever been to before. He doesn’t tell me where we’re going. He never does.

The car stops. He checks his phone, then steps out smoothly, shutting the door behind him. A moment later, my door opens.

“What are we doing here?” I ask.

He doesn’t answer, just stands there, waiting.

“I mean it, Axel. I want to go back. I want to get back to my sleep. I didn’t brush my hair, I’m in my pajamas.....there’s no way you’re taking me in there looking like this.”

“We’re here,” he says simply, reaching for my hand.

I jerk it back. “No. I want to go home.”

“Well, tough s**t,” he says, his tone turning sharp. “Because I want to be here right now. And you’re going to be here.”

“I’m not getting out of this car,” I shoot back.

“You’ll have to carry me again like you did at the house if that’s what you want.”

He grins, the corner of his mouth curling into something dangerous.

“I wasn’t complaining,” he murmurs.

He holds my gaze for a long second, that slow, taunting smirk never leaving his face. Then, without a word, he leans in, so close I can smell the clean spice of his cologne, feel the heat of his breath brush my cheek.

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” he says, voice low, controlled.

“I told you, I’m not going in there.”

He studies me for a moment longer, then nods once, almost as if agreeing. “Fine.”

Fine?

That’s it?

He straightens, turns on his heel, and shuts the door. For a second, I sit frozen, confused. Maybe he finally gave up. Maybe this time, I actually won.

Then I see him walk around to the other side of the car and open the front door.

Before I can react, another man slides in beside me. Broad shoulders, black suit, expression empty. One of his men.

“What the hell.....”

The man doesn’t speak. He just looks forward.

Axel opens my door again. “You’re getting out,” he says, his tone now sharp enough to slice. “Or he’s going to help you out.”

My chest tightens. “You really think I’m afraid of you?”

“I don’t think,” he says simply. “I know.”

The door opens and the music from inside the club spills into the night—heavy bass, laughter, the kind of sound that makes the city feel alive.

I should stay seated. I should defy him. But instead, I unbuckle my seatbelt slowly, glaring up at him.

“You want a show? Fine.”

He steps back, his lips twitching into that almost-smile again. “Good choice.”

I hate that he says it like he owns me.

I hate even more that I am doing what he wants.

As I step out, the night air hits me. People glance over. I feel their stares, the girl in teddy pajamas, stepping out of a black car beside him.

Axel offers his arm. I ignore it, walking ahead, chin high, forcing myself not to care how ridiculous I look. Inside, the lights hit like a storm. Music slams into my chest. The club is chaos and control at the same time—his kind of place. Every person who looks at him moves out of the way.

He follows me, close behind. I’m walking as if I know where the hell I’m going, but the truth is, I have no idea where I am or where I’m headed. The lights are too bright, the bass too heavy, and my heartbeat feels like part of the music.

Suddenly, he takes my hand and leads me away from the dance floor, toward the stairs. I already know where we’re going before I even see it. The VIP section.

A hostess appears out of nowhere, gliding toward us with a smile so practiced it almost hurts to look at. I recognize her instantly. Kat—or something like that.

One of Axel’s favorites. The name circles the clubs like perfume—faint but impossible to miss. From what I’ve heard, he changes them often, but he always comes back to her. And like clockwork, whichever club we end up in, Kat just happens to be there—like she is right now, smiling too brightly, pretending I’m invisible.

“Mr. Moretti,” she says, her voice soft, sweet.

God, I hate her.

“Welcome back, sir....” The way she says the word 'sir'

Her eyes drop, lingering a little too long on his chest, his shoulders, anywhere but me.

I roll my eyes.

And then, just before she walks away, her gaze finally lands on me. That look....sharp, judging, slow. The kind of look that peels your skin off without saying a word.

“Great outfit choice,” she says, lips curving into a smug little smile before turning back to Axel. “Come with me, Mr Moretti. I'll take care of you Tonight.”

Axel gives her his attention—not me. Not once does he look my way, not even a flicker of acknowledgment that I exist, that I’m right here beside him.

He just follows her, calm, deliberate, hypnotized. I glance down at myself, at the ridiculous pajamas clinging to me, and for a moment, I feel that heat of humiliation crawl up my neck. It took everything I had to walk into this place, to push through all those stares, the laughter, the whispers.

And now?

Now I have to stand here while his mistress mocks me to my face.