Chapter 2

Veronica

I didn't need to look at the clock. I knew it was late—the kind of late when all the regulars had been dismissed, and the air in the club was thick with a different kind of tension.

I ran my fingers through my brown curls, the soft strands slipping between my fingers as I looked into the dresser mirror, taking in my features: warm green eyes, red gloss, and dark circles underneath my eyes.

My heartbeat was still racing from the last performance. All eyes were on me tonight. I should have been used to it by now, you would say. But I wasn't.

Although I loved dancing, I could never shake the hungry looks of the men out of my head.

“Vee?” Mimi, my coworker, called from behind me. Her voice was light but had a sharp edge that I recognized. She was done with her makeup and dressed in her all-black cat costume and matching heels. Her long black hair dangled along her back, making her every bit the confident woman I wished I could be.

“What now?” I asked her.

“You didn’t hear about the client?” She chuckled, her tone taking on a devious note.

Mimi was the closest thing I had to a friend at the club. Just like I was fending for my mom's heart surgery, she was working to pursue her academic career.

I didn't respond.

“He’s offering a hundred thousand dollars for the night,” she said, her words clipped and matter-of-fact. “He's some kind of big shot, and he wants you. And, well,” she paused and gave me a sideways glance in the mirror, “you can't blame him."

I shook my head slowly as I felt a knot tighten in my belly. I had heard about the offer from one of the bartenders, but I didn't actually believe it. The thought of someone wanting me made my skin crawl.

I scoffed.

“A hundred thousand? For one night? That’s insane. What kind of crazy person would spend that much on someone he doesn't even know? I'm not interested,” I replied, dismissing the thought.

“I can't.”

Mimi’s smile faltered for just a second, but she didn't press further. Instead, she stood up from the dresser stool and gave herself one last look in the mirror.

“Good luck telling Brandon that.”

Again, I didn't respond. It’s not like I didn't want to say no—I did.

But Brandon, the manager, had an annoying way of making you feel like you had no choice. I’d seen him handle people who tried to step out of line.

And they never lasted long here.

Before I could finish, the door swung open, immediately cutting me off. Brandon stepped into the room, his usual imposing figure filling the doorway. His suit jacket was perfectly tailored, and his shirt crisp under the dark tie.

“You better have a good excuse for why you aren't dressed yet.” His voice was cold when he spoke, and his eyes were sharp. He didn't bother with pleasantries. He never did.

“Does she really have to go? It's not exactly her line of work,” Mimi chipped in an attempt to help, but got a glare from Brandon in return.

“Aren't you supposed to be out there already?” he snarled. He didn’t need to utter another word before Mimi practically scurried out of the room.

His gaze focused back on me.

“Quick. Get dressed,” he said, his voice sharper now. “We don’t want to keep our guest waiting.”

He clapped his hands once; the sound was loud in the small room, before he tossed a folded piece of paper on the dresser.

“That’s the address,” he told me.

Mustering all my courage, I swallowed hard. My words were caught in my throat as I spoke.

“I... I can’t,” I said.

My job was at the pole; everything beyond that was not my line of work, so I didn’t have to.

Mr. Brandon stopped in his tracks, his head tilted slightly as if he hadn’t heard me correctly. In that instant, I regretted my words. His eyes widened in surprise before turning to amusement.

“How long have you been working here, Veronica?” he asked, lifting a brow as if he didn't already know the answer.

“Two months, sir.”

“If I’m not wrong, I believe you want to continue working here, right?”

I froze at his words. The last thing I wanted was to lose my job. I needed the money. It was the only way I’d be able to save up to pay for my mom's heart surgery.

“Yes,” I whispered. “I do.”

Brandon nodded as if the decision had already been made. Without another word, he turned on his heel and headed for the door, his coat swaying behind him.

“You have ten minutes,” he said over his shoulder. “Get dressed.”

---

I sat still in the cab, looking out the window at the now quiet streets. It was usually clogged with traffic on busy afternoons, but at night it was eerily still.

My hands gripped the edge of the seat, and my knuckles turned white. My heart raced frantically as I awaited my fate.

The cab slowed down and pulled to a stop in front of a grand—Desire Five-Star Hotel. It was the biggest in all of Italy.

I paid the cab driver before heading in. The warm air enveloped me as I made my way past the receptionist and straight for the elevator. Once out, I opened the crumpled paper in my hands.

Room 107.

The numbers on each door were written in gold inscriptions. My eyes trailed across each door before they finally landed on the one.

I knocked once, and a voice from inside answered me.

"Come in."

I pushed the door open. The room was dark, with only the glow of a bedside lamp illuminating the space.

And then I saw him.

He was seated at the center of the room, his back straight as if he had been waiting for someone.

Me, no doubt.

I swallowed hard before speaking. “Mr. Koleman?”

He didn't respond. Instead, he casually rose from his chair and moved toward me. His features came into full display as he stepped into the light: dark hair, a chiseled chin, and a jawline sharp enough to cut through glass. He was dressed in a suit that hugged tightly to his muscular build.

He was too handsome, and I was beginning to think he had a flaw. Perhaps he wasn't good in bed, or maybe he lacked certain skills. It wouldn’t come as a surprise if he were a dullard. They usually took extra care of their looks to cover up for their shortcomings.

“Underground Empire sent me.” I swallowed; my voice was small in the face of the giant that towered before me.

He didn't react, just stared

at me. His eyes were locked on my petite figure, his gaze unwavering.

And then he said it.

He said the word that shattered me completely, stripping away the last bit of confidence I had left.

“Strip.”