(Kendall's/KD's POV)
Ever since that run-in with Vaughn, I've been avoiding him. Still, no one's made a move toward KD yet. It's been strangely peaceful, but something about it feels off—like the calm before a storm. I need another opening. I can't afford to force it, or they'll get suspicious. Patience is key.
Right now, I'm in my study catching up on all the work I've missed—going over the contracts Kyle sent and fielding a few forwarded calls from my secretary. Just as I'm deep into reading another document, my phone rings again.
"Miss, the owner of ER Industries is requesting a call. Should I forward it?"
ER Industries? That sounds familiar. "Yes, go ahead."
A minute later, a voice crackles through the line, but it's distorted. I can tell it's a guy, but I can't make out much.
"Mr. Esteban? It's a pleasure to hear from you. May I ask the reason for your call?" I keep my voice calm and professional, just like I was trained.
Then, the voice becomes clear.
"Well, if it isn't KD?"
That voice. I smirk. Bingo—my opening. "If it isn't Paige. To what do I owe the pleasure?"
A low laugh from the other end.
"You don't sound like you missed me."
"Because I didn't. Why are you calling, and where did you even get my number?" I reply innocently. This is what I like to call a mind game for the dumb. It's almost too easy. I can practically hear his pride cracking as he takes a moment to respond.
"Tsk. I just found it somewhere. Wanted to check if it was really yours."
Ouch. His pride definitely took a hit.
"Then why call?" I ask, feigning busy disinterest. I know that tone will tick him off more. Guys like Paige—driven by ego and reputation—hate being brushed off.
"Shouldn't you be thankful that I called?" He snaps.
Typical. All those nice things he did at the beach? Just a front. I'm betting he's only reaching out because he can't handle the idea that a girl humiliated him—and now, she's ignoring him. He's looking for payback. He probably thinks he can make KD beg.
But that won't happen. He'll be the one begging.
"Paige? Are you mad at me?" I ask, throwing in a layer of fake concern. A deep sigh follows.
Haha. That's right, Paige. That's not how you win over a girl. Be nice. Be predictable. I'm practically grinning.
"No, KD. I'm not." He's trying to sound calm, but I can still hear the edge in his voice.
Geez. Why is this guy so easy to read?
"You sure? How about we meet up at that bar where we first saw each other?"
"Yeah, sure," he replies, like he just scored some kind of victory. Cute.
After ending the call, I head for a quick shower and throw on something that screams power—short black velvet dress with long sleeves, a thick velvet choker, and platform stiletto heels. Too much black? Nah. Perfect.
I drive myself. No way I'm letting Paige pick me up. It's not time for him to know where I live. Even Thoven's investigations haven't uncovered our deeper secrets.
When I arrive at the club, it doesn't take long to feel the eyes on me. Typical. I quickly spot Paige, and judging by the smirk on his face, he's spotted me too. Let's see how long that smile lasts.
He's got some guys with him, but they're not his usual crowd. Probably trying to put on a show. He wants me all to himself? Bad move. I could take them out one by one before they even realize what hit them.
Paige stands up and struts over like he's claiming me in front of the whole club. But before his lips can touch mine, I push him back.
"Paige, I thought you were mad at me?" I tilt my head, giving him an innocent look.
He stares at me like I'm joking. But I keep the act going.
"You came here just to apologize? That's it? No games?"
"Well yeah," I say sweetly. "Your father is a client. I can't let a small argument interfere with business."
I layer the innocence with professionalism. He's fuming. I can see it.
He grabs my wrist and drags me to the back of the club. The crowd notices and clears out. Classic Paige.
"I'm so damn tired of your games. No one goes to a club just to apologize. Got that?" He shouts, slamming me against the wall. He's towering over me now.
I hate that I'm scared, but I can't help it. My body freezes, and a tear slips down my cheek. I keep my eyes locked on his, letting him see it—every ounce of fear. Nightmares from my past flash in my mind.
He steps back quickly, like he just touched fire. I wipe the tear away roughly, glaring at him. I don't care anymore. He needs to see how much I hate him.
Was this a bad idea?
I hope not.