The room behind the stage was colder, darker, and quieter than the club. I stumbled through it, heels clicking across the polished concrete floor, breath short, head light. Two hulking men Kyl's bodyguards, I'd later learn flanked me, guiding me past curtains, rigging, and walls that throbbed faintly with the bass of the music I'd just escaped, the night felt electrically charged.
My body still tingled from the pole, the eyes, the roaring rush of attention. My thighs were slick with sweat and arousal. I'd never felt so alive, so powerful. So seen.
My laughter echoed in the narrow hallway.
"Where are we going?" I asked no one in particular, breathless and drunk on more than alcohol. I couldn't believe I had this much courage, I didn't know I was this wild, I guess being in an oppressive relationship with Zavier buried a lot of my self esteem.
The taller bodyguard grunted. "VIP. Mr. Ronald wants to speak with you."
"Mr. Ronald?" I giggled, stumbling slightly. "Sounds like a principal. Or a mafia boss."
They didn't answer, so serious I thought.
The room they led me into was drenched in shadows. The scent hit me first—leather, bourbon, something dark and expensive that made my skin break into goosebumps. I felt a little bit of fear immediately.
He sat at the center of it all. One leg crossed over the other, elbow resting casually on the armrest of a high backed velvet chair. A glass of dark liquor swirled in his hand, catching the low amber light.
Kyl Ronald.
And holy fuck, he was beautiful.
He didn't look real. Chiseled jawline. Silken dark hair that curled slightly at the nape. Eyes so pale they seemed to glow. He looked like he could own the room with a whisper. He already had.
I froze.
My drunken smile wavered.
He stared at me, amused. His gaze didn't leer like most men's. It explored. Dissected. Unwrapped, like a professional.
"Interesting choice of performance," he said.
I swallowed. "You liked it?"
"I found it…raw."
I licked my lips. "Was that a compliment?"
He didn't answer. Just stood up slowly and crossed the room, each step deliberate, predatory.
When he stopped inches from me, I felt it in his energy, It rolled off him like heat. My breath hitched. His tailored suit hugged his frame with sinful precision. Every inch of him screamed money, power, sex. I didn't feel fear anymore, something in me wanted it all, to feel this gorgeous specimen of a man bury himself inside me, my pussy dripped.
I couldn't stop myself. I reached out, palms grazing his chest, sliding lower… lower… until I found the thick bulge pressing against his pants.
"Oh," I whispered. "You're hard."
A slow smirk tugged at his mouth. "And you're drunk."
"Doesn't mean I'm not serious."
His eyes gleamed. "And what exactly are you being serious about?"
I met his gaze boldly. "That I want to taste you."
He chuckled. Deep. Rich. Like honey over gravel.
"Name your price," he said.
I blinked. "Price?"
What did he mean by name your price?, I was just here for the fun and the thought of revenge on Zavier .
"You're new here. I assumed you were one of the performers."
I tilted my head. "What if I said I wasn't?"
He stepped closer. "Then I'd offer you a deal anyway."
I laughed, dizzy. "How much do you think I'm worth?"
His hand slid up my arm, trailing heat.
"Fifty thousand," he said.
I gasped.
He continued, voice low and velvet-smooth. "One night. No questions. No limits."
My knees nearly buckled.
"Fifty thousand?" I repeated, voice barely more than a breath.
He nodded. "Plus a shopping spree. I'm feeling generous tonight."
My mouth went dry.
This was the line. I could feel it, thick and pulsing in the air between us. The line between who I had been and who I could become.
My rent was overdue, Mala had been the one paying for the past two months since Zavier refused giving me any more money, she was also the one buying the groceries, My savings were gone. My pride had already shattered into dust weeks ago. And this man… this dangerous, exquisite stranger wanted me. Not despite my wildness, but because of it.
I whispered, "Okay."
His smile was slow and wicked. He snapped his fingers. A woman appeared from the shadows with a leather-bound folder.
"Confidentiality agreement," he said, offering a pen.
My hand trembled as I signed.
"Good girl," he murmured.
My breath caught.
"Do you need to tell anyone you're leaving?"
I blinked. "Mala."
"I'll have someone let her know."
"No—I should…" I trailed off. My phone was in my clutch somewhere. My fingers fumbled for it, but Kyl was already leading me toward the exit. My heart said run but my legs still walked towards the exit.
The door shut behind us.
And just like that, I was his for the night, an escort for his pleasure .