♥ Chapter 28♥

Axel Norvelli. 

After Catarina left, I stayed in the kitchen for a few minutes, trying to recover my senses. The intensity of what happened and the way she dominated me were making me dizzy. Her every touch seemed etched into my mind, and I couldn't shake the feeling of being completely consumed by her. I knew I should feel embarrassed, but at the same time, there was something indescribably arousing and confusing about the way she made me feel. It was as if his every command, his every touch, was drawing a map of my emotions, and I was lost in it.

I wondered how one person could provoke so many contradictory feelings in another. She seemed to have a natural talent for sending me into a state of nerves and desire, and worst of all, I couldn't deny that, on a deep level, I was completely submissive to her. The feeling of being in her hands was disconcerting, but at the same time, I couldn't shake the attraction I felt for her. I felt completely out of control, but I was also fascinated by this new reality I was immersed in.

Finally, I managed to regain some of my senses and finished washing the dishes. Work was almost a relief, a simple task that helped me bring some kind of order to my messy mind. The idea of ​​following his orders would become a constant in my life, something I was beginning to accept without question. There was no room for doubt or hesitation. It was as if I were following a script she had written for me, and I had no choice but to play my role.

After cleaning the kitchen, I went back to the bedroom to start organizing my things. Despite the strange and uncomfortable situation I found myself in, I knew I needed to be efficient. Organizing my things was a practical and essential task. Luckily, I had two suitcases, so I started putting my clothes, some shoes, and my personal belongings into them. I didn't have many important things—nothing that caused me a significant emotional attachment. It was almost a relief to know that my possessions were simple and easy to manage.

As I packed my documents and clothes, my mind wandered, trying to understand how my life had changed so drastically in such a short time. I was in the process of moving in with Catarina, a powerful and domineering woman, and I knew that this meant a big change in my routine. The simple act of packing my things seemed symbolic of the new phase of my life. I was leaving a familiar space and entering new territory, a territory where the rules were different and where I was about to play a much more complex role.

After organizing everything, I left the bags on the bed and gave the house a quick clean. I wanted everything to be in order before leaving for work. The desire to maintain some sort of normalcy in my life made me want at least the surrounding environment to be as clean and organized as possible.

Now, as I'm on the bus heading to work, my mind is occupied with a mix of worries and expectations. The only thing I hope is that Catarina doesn't interfere with my work. Even with my shyness and the fact that I am completely under her command, I really enjoy my work. It's one of the few places where I still feel somewhat in control and where I can somehow hold on to a piece of my old life. Work is an anchor for me, and the idea that Catarina might want me to abandon it worries me.

With the bus rocking gently as it rolls through the city, I look out the window, trying to find some comfort in the familiarity of the commute. Even though I'm accepting the new life that Catarina is imposing, a part of me still resists the idea of ​​losing everything I've built so far. Change is inevitable, but I can't help but wonder what else is to come.

****

18:10, ''Nightclub'' Valdoria.

When I get to work, the bus stops in front of the nightclub, and I get off, feeling the cool night wind. The city starts to come to life, but I'm already immersed in my new routine. My steps are automatic as I head toward the back entrance, a practice that has become second nature to me.

Upon entering the club from the back, the first thing I notice is the momentary silence that follows the sound of the door closing. My colleagues' eyes turn to me, and I feel the weight of their attention immediately. My new look, with my hair cut shorter than usual, is attracting more attention than I had imagined. The discomfort wraps around me like a second skin.

I try to ignore the stares and murmurs, but it's impossible not to notice the expressions of surprise and curiosity that are clearly written on my colleagues' faces. I feel a chill running down my spine—a sense of vulnerability that is becoming difficult to bear.

'' Axel, did you cut your hair? '' Asks one of the bartenders, with a surprised expression that seems to mix with a little fun.

'' Yeah, it's different. '' Comments another, trying not to laugh.

I feel my face heat up, and a lump forms in my throat. I want the ground to open up and swallow me. Furthermore, I look at my feet and, in an almost automatic gesture, I run my hand through my hair, looking for a feeling of normality that is no longer there. The shorter hair no longer covers my eyes, and, for a moment, I miss the protection it provided me.

'' Yes, I cut it. '' I respond, trying to force a smile that I can't hide from my restlessness. ''Just a quick change.

The persistent stares make me feel increasingly uncomfortable, and I realize that I'm becoming the center of attention in a way I don't want. The feeling of being exposed is palpable. Every muffled laugh and whisper makes my discomfort increase.

To avoid further interactions, I start walking quickly towards the staff room. The desire to hide and escape those eyes is almost unbearable. I need to change and get ready for my shift, something that will provide me with a little refuge from the unwanted attention.

Entering the staff room, I close the door behind me with a sigh of relief. The environment is a little calmer and more private. With quick, almost automatic movements, I begin to change, trying to reconnect with the routine that has become familiar to me. Each piece of clothing I put on feels like another step toward returning to what I know and feel comfortable with.

As I adjust my uniform and get ready for work, the feeling of being exposed and vulnerable still persists. Short hair is not only a physical change, but also a constant reminder of changes in my life that are beyond my control.

As I leave the staff room and head to the bar, I seek some relief from the familiar routine of preparing the place for the shift. Avoiding the curious looks that I still feel on my back. With a careful eye and methodical movements, I begin to organize the glasses. I align them precisely on the shelves, polishing them to ensure they are spotless. The soft sound of glasses being put into place is a small comfort.

Next, I organize the drink bottles. I remove them from the cabinets and place them on the counter, grouping them by type: vodkas, tequilas, liqueurs, and spirits. I place the most used bottles within easy reach and the least popular ones on the top shelves. Each bottle is checked to ensure it is complete and in good condition.

I place ingredients and mixers next to bottles and organize utensils like cocktail shakers and measuring cups. I wipe down the surfaces to ensure the bar is clean and shiny. The familiarity and order of this routine give me a sense of control and calm, a temporary relief from the confusion I feel in my personal life.

With everything ready and the bar in perfect condition, all you have to do is wait for the club to open.