Chapter 2

~FREYA~

“Cheers!” I squealed, lifting my seven shot glass in the air. About five more glasses clicked with mine and I downed the alcohol in one gulp.

I was surrounded by five male stripers, drinking away my sorrows and laughing like a maniac. I couldn't remember the last time I felt so normal.

I was always cooped up at home with servants handling everything. Edward practically convinced me to hide away from the world, because he didn't want me to be “bullied.” How stupid I was!

Halfway through my little drinking marathons, my body stiffened with goosebumps racing down my skin.

The hairs on the back of my neck rose. Someone was watching me. Not glancing. Not noticing. But watching. Intensely.

A slow, heavy kind of stare… the kind that crawled over your skin like a heated breath.

I lowered my shot glass, blinking as the room tilted slightly from my seventh drink. The stripers were still dancing around me, laughing, flexing, touching, yet none of them were the reason my heart suddenly thudded against my ribs.

I turned. And my breath caught.

A man stood by the first floor railing, one elbow propped lazily behind him, a glass of dark whiskey in his hand. The club’s lighting washed over him in gold, outlining a tall, broad-shouldered silhouette dressed in an immaculate black suit that screamed obscene wealth.

But it wasn’t the suit that stole the air from my lungs. It was him. His face.

Chiseled. Striking. Beautiful in a cold, ruthless way. Jet-black hair. Strong jaw. Eyes like liquid gold. Dark, intense, unreadable.

Eyes that were locked entirely on me.

He didn’t look away. Didn’t even bother to pretend. He wanted me aware that he was looking.

And for the first time in a long time, I felt… seen.

My chest tightened with nerves and an intense need I couldn't decipher.

“Ma’am!” one of the stripers laughed, brushing my arm to get my attention. “Want another…”

“No.” My voice came out low, breathy, unfamiliar to myself.

I couldn’t stop staring at the man.

His gaze dipped slowly, from my face… to my lips… to the neckline of my dress… then lower… lingering a second too long before dragging back up.

Heat flushed through me.

Why was he looking at me like that? Like he could read every piece of me and found it intriguing.

God, maybe I was drunk. Very drunk.

I signalled one of my guards, my eyes refusing to break away from the electric moment. I pointed directly at him, unafraid and utterly shameless.

“I want him. How much?” I asked.

“Ma'am, I don't think he's a stripper…”

“I see…” I drawled, cutting him short. “Offer him two million then. If he doesn't agree, make it five.”

“As you wish, ma'am.”

I watched my guard go up and discuss with the man. He didn't make any comments and just when I thought he wasn't interested, he pushed away from the rail and headed downstairs. In my direction.

Each step was unhurried. Confident. Like a predator closing in on prey, yet it didn’t feel threatening.

The stripers parted like the Red Sea, instinctively sensing they were outclassed.

The man stopped only a foot away from me. Up close, he was worse.

More gorgeous. More intimidating. More… powerful. God, did I mention his cologne? It was a rich mix of intoxicating scents that made me want to melt right there.

He looked down at me, since I was seated and my nerves instantly acted up, expecting him to ridicule my current condition but those amber eyes didn't lose even a spark of interest.

I felt like the world had paused just for us.

His voice, when he finally spoke, slid down my spine like warm velvet.

“Buying men for a million dollars?” he murmured, eyes holding mine captive. “That seems… beneath you.”

My pulse slammed against my skin. “How would you know what’s beneath me?”

His lips curved slightly in amusement.

“Because the moment I saw you,” he said softly, “I knew you weren’t someone meant to beg for attention.”

My stomach fluttered.

I swallowed hard, trying to sound as indifferent as possible so he wouldn't see how much his words affected me. “Really? And what am I meant for?”

He leaned down, close enough that I could smell his cologne, dark, expensive, addictive. His fingers slid gently on my chin, sending a wave of tingles down my spine.

“You?” he whispered, his breath brushing my ear. “You’re meant to be ruined properly.”

My breath hitched, heat creeping up my face like a highschooler talking to her crush.

“I—I don’t even know your name,” I managed. It was a dumb thing to say at this moment but that was all I could think of.

He straightened, but his gaze didn’t leave mine.

“Atlas Cade.”

My eyes widened slightly. The name sounded so familiar but I couldn't quite place where I heard it.

“And you’re Freya Taylor,” he started. “Daughter of the Taylor Empire… sole heiress… and recently heartbroken.”

My blood cooled instantly. “How do you know that?”

“I'll give you one night. To use me however you please,” Atlas said instead. “And after that, everything else will be solely on my own terms.”

The words sent chills down my spine. A part of me told me to call this whole madness off and just continue my drink. But the stubborn needy part of me argued that he was just a domineering male stripper. He just said things to get his clients in the mood, make them submit.

He couldn't possibly come after me if I simply paid him off and left before he woke up.

“What do you say, snowflake?” He asked and against all rational thinking, I nodded.

“Deal.”

The minute the words left my mouth, he lifted me off the wheelchair and my guards immediately stepped forward. I signalled them to stand down and they parted for him to pass.

I didn't even pay attention to where he was taking me. All I could think about was how unfair it was for one man to be so goddamn attractive.

He slid his card and opened the door to reveal a room. The dim lights immediately caught my attention. When he dropped me on a king sized bed, he stepped back to take a proper look at me. A whole new feeling of shyness overwhelmed me.

“Before you do anything…” the words flew out of my mouth before I could stop them. “... I can't do what other women do. So don't expect me to spread my legs or hold them up high or arch…” A finger pressed on my lip, instantly shutting me up.

“Hush, Snowflake,” his lips curled in a smile that instantly stole my breath. “I'm not asking you to do anything.”

With both hands on either side of my shoulder, he laid me down gently. “I just want to lie back and let me take care of you…”