SHOULD I ACCEPT?

Ash's POV

I made it halfway down the hallway before I had to stop and lean against the wall, my heart racing like I'd just run a marathon.

What the fuck had just happened?

Andreas Lionel—the man whose family had destroyed mine—had just offered to make me his private toy. The worst part, the absolute worst part, was that some traitorous corner of my brain was actually considering it.

Not because I wanted to but because this was exactly the kind of access I needed. Close to Andreas meant close to information. I needed to answer about what happened to Asher, about why my father had to die.

I just had to be willing to let a man touch me and maybe use me while pretending I wanted it when every cell in my body was screaming that this was wrong, dangerous, suicidal.

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

I jerked upright. Marco was leaning against the opposite wall, watching me with knowing eyes.

"I'm fine," I said automatically. 

He leaned closer. "Sure you are. Let me guess—Andreas made you an offer?" 

"How did you—"

"He does it to all the new guys who catch his eye. Private dancers, exclusive performances, lots of money, certain expectations." Marco's smile was bitter. "I turned him down two years ago. Lost out on a fortune, but kept my dignity."

"What happens to the ones who say yes?"

"It depends.” He shrugged. “Some end up with more money than they know what to do with and a sugar daddy for life. Others..." He trailed off. "Others disappear after a few months. Andreas gets bored, moves on, and they're left trying to figure out who they are without him."

I swallowed hard. "He's that intense?"

"He's that possessive. Once you're his, you're his completely. No other clients, no other relationships, nothing that takes your attention away from him. It's suffocating." Marco straightened. "You're going to say yes anyway, aren't you?"

"I—"

"You've got that look.” He pinched my cheek gently. “You're desperate but trying to hide it. You need the money, or the access, or both. Just..." He sighed. "Be careful, Raine. Andreas Lionel isn't someone you play games with. He'll chew you up and spit you out, and you'll be lucky if there's anything left to put back together."

He walked away, leaving me alone with my thoughts and my terrible, necessary decision. What was i going to be? If I did agre, I was in for a dance with the devil but if I didn't, my late father would never get justice and Asher will be lost forever.

---

I went back to Andreas's office the next night.  He was behind his desk, reviewing something on his computer, but he looked up when I entered. One eyebrow raised. "That was fast."

"I've made my decision." I said. Took me the whole night but I was finally here.

"And?"

"I'll do it." The words felt like swallowing glass. "I'll be your private dancer but I have conditions."

A slow smile spread across his face. "Do you know?"

"I'll only do what I feel like doing. You can't force me into anything I'm not comfortable with and if I say stop, you stop. Immediately."

Andreas leaned back in his chair, studying me. "Sex is no fun if the other party doesn't enjoy it. I'm not interested in fucking someone who's just lying there thinking about grocery lists. So yes, I agree to your terms." He stood, walking around the desk. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yes."

He was in front of me now, close enough to touch. "Say it clearly. I want to hear you agree."

"I agree to be your... boy toy." The words tasted wrong in my mouth. “I'll do whatever it is that you want.”

"Good." His hand came up, fingers trailing down my bare chest. I'd come straight from a performance, still shirtless, and now I was hyperaware of every point of contact between us.

This is for Asher. For Dad. You can do this.

His touch was warm, surprisingly gentle, tracing the lines of my muscles with what felt like genuine appreciation. When he reached my waistband, he paused, looking up at me with dark eyes.

"You're going to be fun to break," he murmured. Then he spun me around and smacked my ass—hard enough to sting, not hard enough to truly hurt.

I gritted my teeth, refusing to react. He leaned in close, his lips barely brushing my ear. "Are you ready for what happens next?"

"You're one horny bastard," I said, because saying nothing felt like losing somehow.

He laughed, low and pleased. "I couldn't agree more.

His phone rang then, cutting through the moment. He pulled away, fishing it out of his pocket with obvious annoyance. Wen he looked at the screen, his expression changed—going from aroused to cold in an instant.

"I need to take this," he said curtly. "Wait here."

He answered the phone, walking to the window. "What... When... Are you sure?" His voice was low, controlled, but I could hear the edge in it. "Fine, I'll handle it. Keep me updated."

He hung up, and when he turned back to me, the heat from moments ago was completely gone, replaced by something calculating and dangerous.

"We'll start tomorrow," he said. "Be here at ten PM and don't be late."

"That's it?"

"That's it. You can go."

I left, confused and oddly disappointed, which was insane because I shouldn't want whatever had been about to happen.

As I walked back to the dressing room, I caught my reflection in one of the hallway mirrors. My face was flushed, my pupils dilated, my breathing still slightly uneven.

"What the hell did I just get myself into?" I whispered to my reflection.