**SERA**
His thumb brushed across my lower lip, and I felt that single touch everywhere.
"I pay you two hundred thousand tonight," he continued, his voice dropping lower, "and another three hundred when your year is up. You walk away rich, and I get exactly what I want."
The room spun. This wasn't a job offer. This was ownership.
"Why?" The question came out breathless. "Why me?"
His grip on my chin tightened just slightly. "Because I can. Because watching you dance like the world is ending made me want to see what else you'd do to survive. Because I'm a selfish bastard who takes what he wants, and right now, I want you."
"What happens if I say yes?"
He released my chin and pulled out his phone, typed something with quick movements. Thirty seconds later, my phone buzzed from my purse offstage.
He nodded toward it.
I walked back to the stage on numb legs and pulled out my phone.
A notification from my bank.
Deposit: $200,000.
The numbers blurred. I blinked hard, but they stayed the same.
"That's how serious I am," he said from behind me. "The money is yours either way now. Consider it a show of good faith. But if you walk away, I'll find a way to take it back, and you'll discover exactly how ruthless I can be. If you stay, you start tonight."
I turned to face him. "You just gave me two hundred thousand dollars. What if I run?"
"You won't."
"How do you know?"
He moved closer. "Because you came here to save someone, and people like you don't run when they finally have the means to be heroes. You'll make your call, save whoever needs saving, and then you'll come back to me because you're the type who honors her debts."
He saw right through me.
"I need to make a call first," I managed.
"You have five minutes."
I walked into the small backstage area, my entire body shaking, and dialed the number from the video.
"You have the money?" Same distorted voice.
"Yes. All of it. Where do I wire it?"
A pause. Muffled voices in the background.
"I'll send instructions. Your sister will be released within twenty-four hours of confirmed receipt."
"I want to talk to her. Now."
"That's not….."
"Now, or I don't send a fucking dime."
Another pause. Then rustling, movement, and finally…..
"Sera?"
Gianna's voice was weak, terrified, but it was her. She was alive.
"I'm getting you out, Gi. I promise. Just hold on one more day. Can you do that?"
"Sera, don't don't do anything stupid for me. Don't….."
The phone was cut off. The mechanical voice returned. "Satisfied? Instructions incoming."
The call ended.
A text arrived with cryptocurrency wallet information. I forwarded it to my bank's app and initiated the transfer. Two hundred thousand dollars. Gone in seconds.
But Gianna would be safe. She had to be.
When I walked back onto that stage, I wouldn't be Sera Moretti anymore. Sera Moretti was a good girl who studied hard and made responsible choices.
But Scarlett Vale could do all of that and more.
I straightened my dress, wiped the tears off my face, and walked back into the audition room.
Luca Vitale hadn't moved.
"I accept your deal," I said, and my voice didn't shake.
"Smart girl." He pulled a folded paper from inside his jacket. "Sign this."
I took it. A contract. I scanned the first page.
One year. Nightly performances from 10 PM to midnight. Compensation: $200,000 upon signing, $300,000 upon completion. Termination clauses all in his favor. An NDA that would financially destroy me if I ever spoke about our arrangement.
I should read it all. Should probably have a lawyer look at it.
But Gianna had twenty-four hours until freedom, and I had already spent her ransom.
I signed without reading the rest.
He took the contract, checked my signature, and folded it carefully. Then he walked to the door and locked it with a decisive click.
My heart stopped.
"Your first performance starts now, Scarlett Vale."
I swallowed hard. "Now? Here?"
"Is that a problem?" He moved back to the chair and sat. "You signed a contract agreeing to perform nightly. It's 9:47 PM. Still technically night."
He was testing me.
I thought about running. About explaining I needed time, needed to prepare.
But his eyes told me everything I needed to know. He didn't want perfection. He wanted submission.
"No music?" I asked.
"Not tonight. Tonight I want to hear you breathe."
I stepped back onto the small stage, hyper-aware of his eyes tracking my every movement.
"Take off your dress," he said. Not a question. A command.
My hands went to the zipper at my side.
"Slowly," he added. "I paid good money to watch you, Scarlett. Don't rush."
I forced myself to slow down, to slide the zipper down inch by agonizing inch.
The dress slipped off my shoulders. I let it fall to the stage floor.
I stood there in my bra and panties, plain black cotton, and felt more naked than I'd ever been in my life.
"Keep going."
I reached behind my back for my bra clasp. My hands were shaking so badly it took three tries to unhook it.
The bra joined my dress on the floor.
I crossed my arms over my chest instinctively, and his voice cut through the room.
"Hands at your sides."
I dropped my arms.
"Now the rest."
I hooked my thumbs in my panties and slid them down, stepping out of them carefully.
I was completely naked now, standing on a stage in front of a stranger who owned me for the next year.
"Beautiful," he murmured. "Now dance for me."
There was no music. No rhythm to follow. Just silence and his stare and my own thundering heartbeat.
I started to move, swaying slightly, running my hands over my body because I didn't know what else to do with them.
"Look at me," he commanded. "Don't close your eyes. Don't look away. I want you to see exactly who you're dancing for."
I forced myself to meet his gaze. Those green eyes pinned me in place, stripped me more thoroughly than removing my clothes ever could.
I danced in silence, in shame, in desperation. Every movement was clumsy and uncertain, but he watched like I was performing a masterpiece.
Minutes passed. Five. Ten. I lost track of time.
Finally, he spoke. "Stop."
I froze, breathing hard, covered in sweat.
He stood and walked toward the stage. Toward me.
He stopped at the edge, close enough to touch but not touching.
"You're terrible at this," he said bluntly.
Humiliation burned through me.
"But you're honest. Real. And that's more valuable than any technique." He reached out and caught my wrist, pulling me closer. "You'll get better. I'll make sure of it."
He pulled me down until I was kneeling on the stage, eye level with him.
"For the next year, you belong to me. Your body, your time, every performance, mine. You don't dance for anyone else. You don't fuck anyone else. You don't even think about anyone else when you're in this room. Understood?"
I nodded.
"Say it," he demanded.
"I understand."
"I understand what?"
My throat felt tight. "I understand that I belong to you."
Something flashed in his eyes. Satisfaction. Possession. Hunger.
"Good girl."
He released my wrist and stepped back. "Get dressed. There's a car waiting outside to take you home. Be back here tomorrow night at ten PM sharp. Don't be late."
I scrambled off the stage and grabbed my clothes, pulling them on with shaking hands while he watched. When I was dressed, I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.
His voice stopped me. "Scarlett?"
I turned.
He stood there in his expensive suit, looking every inch the dangerous man he clearly was.
"Welcome to Club Nero."