Novels by Amanda isabel

Gabriel.His name lingered somewhere just behind her thoughts, like a candle flickering in a closed room. He hadn’t touched her. He hadn’t asked for more. But there had been something in the way his eyes held hers that stayed with her longer than it should have. A warmth she didn’t know she’d been missing until it wrapped around her in the form of a conversation that ended too soon.She shook the thought off.There was no room for distraction. Not now.The sound of Skyler’s voice drifted from the rehearsal room, firm and upbeat, followed by the sharp click of heels across wood.Aurora smiled to herself and slipped inside.Skyler stood at the center of the space in workout shorts and a cropped hoodie, stretching out her calves against the mirrored wall. She looked up as Aurora entered and grinned.“There you are. Thought you ran off to join the convent.”“Just took a walk through the world,” Aurora said.Skyler raised a brow. “You look… peaceful. That’s suspicious.”“I had a nice conve

Aurora hadn’t planned to leave the club that night. Her body ached from rehearsal, and the luxury a a free rest of the night was still foreign enough to feel suspicious. But something in her had stirred when she left—a restless energy, an urge to move, to breathe something beyond velvet curtains and rose-colored stage lights.So she dressed simply in high-waisted jeans, a black simple top, , and some black heels she found backstage that fit her. Her curls were soft, unstyled, and tied loosely at the nape of her neck.Las Vegas by night was a different creature. Overly packed of its night-laced glamour, it buzzed with tourist chatter and the soft clink of slot machines. The air was dry, cool, and touched with the scent of city city—concrete, drugs, and distant sex.She wandered aimlessly through the Strip for nearly an hour, ducking into bars for a drink was hers was finished. No one recognized her. No one looked twice. It was a kind of freedom she hadn’t realized she needed.Eventuall

The morning after her debut, Aurora woke to soft sunlight pooling on the floor and a faint ache in her thighs—the kind of ache that didn’t sting but sang. She sat up slowly, bare feet brushing the cool wood, and allowed herself a long, still moment before stepping back into the rhythm of the world.She had expected celebration to feel louder, wilder. But what settled in her chest was quieter than that. It was steady. Solid. A sense of knowing.She had done it.And now there was more to do.By midmorning, she made her way to the lounge, where a few of the girls were still in robes and slippers, sipping coffee and exchanging gossip. A few glanced up as she entered. One offered a subtle smile. Another nodded. The air was different now—less dismissive, more curious.Skyler was already waiting for her in the rehearsal room, perched on the edge of the piano bench, her curls pulled back and her expression bright.“Still breathing?” she teased.“Barely,” Aurora said, grinning. “But yeah.”Sky

The velvet hush of Room Eleven fell away behind her as Aurora stepped back into the glow of the club. The murmur of voices, the scent of champagne, roses, and warm cologne greeted her like a current she was no longer drifting through—but standing above.She didn’t look back.Whatever had happened in that room—whatever powerplay, compliment, or unspoken threat Kyram Vladimir had left lingering in the air—it wasn’t hers to carry tonight.This night belonged to someone else.To her.As she descended the side hallway toward the main floor, the music shifted. A slow, glittering remix of an old jazz number poured from the speakers, velvet-soft and sensual. Laughter echoed from the VIP section. Light bounced from chandeliers like gold spun in motion. The club, somehow, still buzzed with energy—no one had left.And everyone noticed her return.She didn’t strut, didn’t force it—but heads turned as she passed. Clients leaned in closer to whisper. A few raised their glasses. Even staff paused mi

The applause still rang in her ears when Aurora stepped backstage, the heat of the spotlight slowly fading from her skin. Her chest still rose and fell in shallow breaths, the performance replaying in her head like a dream caught in rewind. Around her, the club pulsed with post-show energy. Girls offered congratulations, hands brushed her arms, and someone called her name twice before she realized they were speaking to her.Skyler wrapped her in a hug that smelled of hairspray and stage perfume.“You killed it,” she whispered into her ear. “I told you. You were made for that stage.”Aurora couldn’t speak. She only smiled, dazed, alive in a way she’d never felt before.Then Vanessa appeared, clipboard in hand, her heels sharp against the floor.“Aurora,” she said, voice smooth but direct. “We have a… unique request.”Aurora turned, grounding herself. “What kind of request?”“Kyram Vladimir,” Vanessa said quietly, “wants a private word with you. He’s paying ten grand for five minutes. A

Backstage was a storm of movement.The air buzzed with perfume, powder, and the rustle of silk being pulled tight over skin. Glitter shimmered in the light from the overhead vanity bulbs, casting flecks of gold across the dressing room walls. Girls flitted in and out of frame, adjusting corsets, curling lashes, whispering chants to themselves like spells.Aurora sat before the mirror, already dressed in her opening number—the black bodysuit Vanessa had chosen, hugging her curves like it had been stitched to her soul. Her gloves were laid out beside her, long and black with gold threading at the seams. Her lips were painted deep red, her eyes smoked to perfection. She looked… dangerous. Like a secret about to be told.Her fingers trembled slightly as she adjusted her earring.The door swung open.“Front row request,” Lisa called over the chatter. “Table thirteen.”The room hushed. That number meant one thing.The Russians were back.Aurora’s pulse quickened, though she kept her express