Chapter 1

(Lana POV)

"You belong to me now."

His voice was low, definitive. Like a verdict already delivered.

I turned slowly, meeting the gaze of the man who had haunted the darkest corners of the club for three consecutive nights. The one who never tipped, never smiled. He simply observed.

"No," I replied curtly. "I don't belong to you."

His face remained impassive. No smile. No warning. Just a gaze as sharp as a blade, grey and cold as death.

"You have no choice."

Anger pinched my eyes. "I always have a choice."

"Even when it's already been made for you?"

He took a step forward. Controlled. Calculated. Like a man who already possessed the space between us, as if I had wandered into a room where all the exits had been sealed.

"I know who you are," I said sharply. "Whatever game you're playing, this club doesn't want people like you here."

"The club," he said, bowing his head, "already belongs to my kind."

I opened my mouth to reply sharply, quickly, definitively, but the words wouldn't come out. Because a noise rang out in the corridor like a gunshot.

A voice, my father's. Crackling through the small speaker in the wall. A security camera? A recording?

"Take her with you, she's my payment, she's worthless anyway."

Those words hit me harder than any slap, my breath caught in my throat, my hands went numb.

I knew that voice, cold and disdainful. The voice of a man who had risked everything, lost even more, and traded his daughter to stay alive for one more day.

"You know him," I murmured.

The man didn't flinch. "He sold you out, and I'm here to get what's rightfully mine."

My body froze.

"How much is left? Give me time and I'll pay it back." I knew my father and his way of managing finances; working was the only way to save myself.

"It's already paid for," he said.

"It's signed. It's sealed."

He looked at me as if he could see right through me.

"You are no longer Lana Moretti. You now belong to the Vales."

"The Vale?" My mouth went dry.

"The Vale family, my family. Adrian Vale, you belong to me."

I stepped back.

"You've lost your mind."

"You've been dancing here for two years to pay off a debt that wasn't supposed to be paid off, he knew it. We knew it."

"Go to hell," I spat.

"You first."

Then came the first scream, from the floor below. Glass shattered, tables overturned, and a gunshot rang out.

Pop.

Pop.

Pop.

It was real, loud, and very close. Adrian reacted quickly, too quickly. He grabbed my wrist and pulled me towards him as another man armed with a rifle ran past in the corridor.

"But what the hell is going on?"

"Your father tried to betray the Castilla cartel,"

Adrian grunted as he dragged me towards the back exit.

"And you were the guarantee."

"I didn't ask for that..."

— No. But you are involved.

The steel door burst open. The cold night air hit my face; blood and neon lights mingled in the alley behind the Velvet Room. A black SUV screeched to a halt, and the doors flew open.

" NOW !

He didn't hesitate. One hand under my legs, the other pressed against the car, he lifted me effortlessly and pushed me inside.

I rushed towards the opposite door, seized by panic.

"Let me out."

" No.

"You kidnapped me."

— I saved you.

"You're crazy."

"No," he said. "I'm efficient."

He reached out beside him and offered me a bottle of water. I pushed it away. He caught it mid: air and smiled for the first time, slowly and with obvious satisfaction.

"Cute." He smiled when he saw my expression.

"You want to be nice? Try cancelling the debt, because this is kidnapping."

"That's wrong again. It's a payment that was received on time." He smiled.

"I'm not a check to be cashed!"

"No. You're a means of exerting pressure."

My back hit the seat, my heart was pounding. He leaned towards me, his forearm resting against the leather that separated us.

"You dance like you want someone to break you."

Those words froze me in place.

"I never danced for you."

"You dance to survive. But you move as if you want to be seen, and I see everything."

He looked at me so intensely that I forgot to breathe.

"You're not just a payment, Lana. You're a message. A weapon. A wound. That's why he abandoned you."

The SUV took a sharp turn. I pressed my hand against the window to steady myself.

"You know nothing about me."

"I know more than you think."

He took out a phone. He played a recording.

My boss's voice, greasy and high: pitched.

"Yes, yes, take her. She's clean. Calm. Pretty. That'll erase the debt, won't it? Her father asked me for her a few months ago, but she's brought me a lot of money."

My blood ran cold. He stopped the recording.

"I'm not a good man, Lana," Adrian said in a low voice.

"But I'm better than what you expected."

The car stopped in front of a high: rise building, in a heavily guarded area, with lights lining up to infinity.

There was money and danger there. Adrian came out and opened the door for me.

" No. "

He didn't argue. He simply bent down, grabbed me again, and carried me as if I weighed nothing.

"Put me down."

" No.

"I am not your pet."

"You are not a pet," he said darkly.

"You are my possession. And I protect what belongs to me."

The door opened.

I pushed him away violently. "I'm not a prostitute."

He looked at me then, with a hard, unwavering gaze.

"You're not a prostitute," he said. "You were paid with blood. Which means you now belong to our family. And in this family? That means something."

The manor was quiet, but not cold. Candles burned along the walls. The bed was too big, the sheets too smooth, the whole place too meticulously furnished.

He placed me on the edge.

I stood up. "If you touch me, I'll kill you."

"I will not do it."

" For what ?

He approached. His hand brushed against my jaw. It slid down to my throat, without squeezing, without threatening. Just there.

"Because when I finally touch you," he said, "you'll want it."