Chapter 2

Aria exhaled sharply as she pushed through the busy nightclub, her pulse still unsteady from the intense stare of the man in Table Five.

Get it together, Aria.

She had dealt with powerful men before. Wealthy CEOs, corrupt politicians, even criminals with too much money and not enough morals. They all had the same hungry look in their eyes, but something about this one was… different.

More dangerous. More consuming. She needed to shake this off.

She wasn’t sure how long she had been locked in his gaze until he had released her from it. One of the other men at the table had cleared his throat. It was barely audible to Aria, but the man had turned his head away from her. She hadn’t missed the chance and she turned and all but ran from the table.

With practiced ease, she adjusted the bottle of premium whiskey on her tray and turned to one of the other waitresses, Tasha, a tall brunette with a sharp tongue and a ‘screw men’ attitude.

"Can you take Table Five for me?" Aria asked, keeping her voice casual, even though her heart still pounded like it was trying to break free from her chest.

Tasha arched a perfectly shaped brow, already suspicious. “Why? Those guys look like they tip big.”

Aria hesitated. What was she supposed to say? Because the man in the middle looks at me like he wants to eat me? Like he’s already decided I belong to him? And I just stand there like I am going to let him? 

Instead, she shrugged. “They give me bad vibes.”

Tasha snorted. “Sweetheart, every guy in this club gives off bad vibes.”

She wasn’t wrong there.

Tasha sighed, rolling her eyes. “Fine, I’ll take your table.”

Relief flooded through Aria’s chest, but then Tasha smirked.

Uh oh.

"But only if you take three of mine."

Aria's relief vanished. "Tasha, come on—"

“Nope.” Tasha popped her gum, completely unapologetic. “You don’t get out of VIP duty for free.”

Aria groaned, but she wasn’t in a position to argue, she would take anything to get away from that man. "Fine. Which tables?"

Tasha pointed across the club all the way to the regulars’ section. Three tables packed with rowdy, messy customers who ordered cheap drinks and left shitty tips.

Great.

Shooting one last glance at Table Five, she saw the mysterious man still watching her, his gaze dark and unreadable. A slow smirk tugged at his lips, as if he knew exactly what she was doing and was amused by it. Arsehole.

Heat curled in her stomach again, and she quickly turned away, determined to ignore the feeling gnawing at her insides.

She had work to do.

With the extra tables dumped on her, Aria barely had a second to breathe for the rest of the night. Drinks, orders, balancing trays, dodging grabby hands, the hours blurred together in a haze of neon lights and exhaustion.

But no matter how fast she moved, she could still feel him. His eyes always on her.Watching.

Lurking in the edges of her vision.

She never looked back at him. Never turned her head to meet his stare. But she felt it, like a slow burn crawling over her skin, a silent promise of something she didn’t understand.

And didn’t want to.

By the time the club started winding down, her feet throbbed, and her dress felt like a second layer of skin, sticking to her with sweat. She was more than ready to go home, shower, and try to forget the way his eyes branded her.

She was grabbing her bag from behind the bar when Monica, the club manager, appeared.

"Table Five left you a tip," Monica said, handing her an envelope.

Aria blinked. “I asked Tasha to take that table.”

Monica shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. They said it was for you. Specifically.”

A strange chill prickled along the back of her neck. Frowning, Aria took the envelope from Monica and peeked inside.

Her stomach dropped. It contained a stack of crisp hundred dollar bills.

She didn’t need to count it to know it was more than she made in a month, even after tips. Her fingers trembled as she thumbed through the cash, heart hammering. What the hell?

Rich customers left generous tips all the time, but this? This was too much. This wasn’t a tip, this felt like a transaction.

And she had no idea what the money was buying. But nothing like this came for free.

Aria shoved the envelope into her bag, her pulse a frantic drumbeat in her ears.

She needed to get out of here.

The moment Aria stepped outside, the sharp chill of the night seeped through her thin dress, making her shiver. Vixen sat in one of the nicer parts of the city, but her apartment? Not so much.

It took around thirty minutes on foot to get there. She could have taken a cab, but money was tight,and tonight she felt like the cool air might help to clear her head.

Still, as she walked through the empty streets, a deep unease curled in her stomach.

Something felt… wrong.

The city was never this quiet at night. Sure it was late, but there was always some activity. Some drunken party goers stumbling through the streets. But the streetlights flickered above, casting long shadows across the cracked pavement of the deserted streets.

She quickened her pace. Making her way past another block, then another.

But the feeling didn’t go away.

Someone’s watching me.

Aria’s breath caught as she whipped around. But there was nothing.

Her heart slammed against her ribs. She was just being paranoid. It’s just been a weird night. It’s fine. Just go home.

But the entire walk, the feeling never left her.

A presence. Invisible, but suffocating.

She didn’t stop moving until she reached the crumbling entrance of her run down apartment building.

Hurrying inside, she bolted up the three flights of stairs, her pulse only slowing once she slammed her door shut and locked all three deadbolts before resting her back to the door and catching her breath.

The apartment was silent.

Her roommate, Jade, had already long since gone to bed. The two had met working at Vixen, but Jade had found an easier daytime gig at a coffee shop. Less tips, but no late nights, no predators in expensive suits. Just hipsters with overly complicated orders.

Aria wished she had that option. But Jade’s financial burdens were not like Aria's, she had more freedom. She was ashamed of how jealous she was of her best friend.

Stripping out of her work clothes, she grabbed a clean towel and headed for the bathroom, desperate to wash away any memory of the night.

The hot water scalded her skin, but it did nothing to remove the weight pressing down on her chest.

Five thousand dollars. That’s how much was in that envelope. More than she made in a month.

It was more than enough to pay her rent, cover her bills, pay off some of the debts and give her a little breathing room.

She should have been relieved. Ecstatic even.

But instead, she felt trapped.

Because she knew, deep down, this wasn’t free.

There was a price to everything.

And she didn’t even know what it was yet.

After her shower, she slipped into a cropped tank top and shorts, climbing onto her small bed with the envelope in her lap.

She ran her fingers over the crisp bills. Her breath shuddered. She should keep it. She needed it. She couldn’t say no to this kind of money. Whatever he wanted for this, surely she had to do it.

But as she lay down, staring at the cracked ceiling, she couldn’t stop seeing his eyes.

Cold. Calculated. Unrelenting.

Like he was waiting for her. Like he had already decided this was only the beginning.

Aria tossed and turned, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the feeling that she had just stepped into something she wasn’t prepared for.

That she had just been marked.

And there was no way out.