Chapter 4

CALLIE

My body still feels hollow, like something vital has been ripped from my system and can never be replaced. Each step into the club Scarlett works thrusts me into a whole new world, one I’m not even welcome in.

But this isn’t about choice anymore. It’s about survival. I’ve been sitting in a secluded corner for the past half an hour, shifting uncomfortably under the gaze of hungry men, but I’m slowly starting to lose it.

Scarlett rushes toward me. A bald man spanks her ass, and she wiggles it at him, blowing him a kiss as she saunters toward me. I look away, embarrassed on her behalf.

“Callie, we have a problem.” She urges me to stand. “Give me a quick 360 first,” and while I refuse, she grabs my shoulder and flips me around.

She clicks her tongue, smirking darkly. “Good enough.”

“What?” I jerk my head forward. “Scarlett, what’s going on?”

Her eyes narrow at me. “The client…he doesn’t just need a woman’s company. He wants a show.”

A cold shiver runs down my spine. “He changed his mind? Scarlett, I…I can’t do this.” I swallow, “I can’t give him a show, you know I can’t—”

“Relax.” She rolls her eyes, far too calm for the turmoil I feel right now. “He just needs a stripper, that’s all. All you need to do is dance.”

“But I can’t!” I yell.

“Well, you don’t have a choice. Mr. Voss has seen you, and he wants you. He isn’t someone you keep waiting, Callie.” She grabs my wrist, leading me away from the loud bass pulsing through my veins. With each step further, there’s even more privacy—like the large glass doors, red curtains, and dimly lit lights.

The choking smell of smoke makes me cough so loud, Scarlett presses her palm against my lips. “Men here are nasty, you don’t want them to drag you into their beds, do you?”

I yank her palm away. “Scarlett, we’re identical. Why can’t you take my place, huh?” I plead, dread seeping into my bones. “You’re used to things like this. I’m sure this Mr. Voss wouldn’t want someone inexperienced.”

“I don’t do private shows, Callie.” Scarlett looks like she’s trying so hard not to yell at me. “And besides, it’s just for one night. He’s private enough not to make videos or take pictures, you’ll be fine.”

Before I can say something else, she pushes me into a room, and the door slams close. My heart slams hard against my rib cage at the sudden change in temperature. I can’t tell if it’s due to the AC, or the fact that there is literally no one here, but hell, it’s freaking chilly here.

“You’re the stripper?” A man in a polished black suit stops before me, and I jump, frightened to the bones. He drags his eyes over my outfit, checking me out, and my skin stings in embarrassment.

“Yes,” I say quickly. “I’m the stripper.”

He nods, then starts to walk ahead. “This way, please.”

I hurry after him, wobbling in my high heels. He takes a turn to the left, calm voice shattering the uncomfortable silence. “Mr. Voss doesn’t like crowds. He only comes here when he’s upset.”

I stop. “Upset?”

He nods, expression serious. “Yes, so stay exactly where he asks you to stay. He has a thing for obedient women.”

What? Is it too late to back out of this? I gulp when he stops at a large brown door. He opens it with a card, and I can’t will my legs to move.

“Get in,” he urges, and I take two steps forward, clutching my purse tightly as the door slams behind me.

There’s a silver pole in the middle of the room, a large, black couch, and a single glass on a small coffee table. I glance around the large space with a small frown. Why’s no one here?

My throat itches to have a drink. If I get drunk enough, maybe I wouldn’t feel so embarrassed while dancing. I reach out for the glass, and that’s when a metallic voice pierces the air.

“Do you always touch things that aren’t yours?”

I jerk my hands away, panic flooding my system. “No, I—”

“Dance,” the voice continues as a tall figure emerges from the shadows. Due to the neon lights, I can’t really make out his features, but hell, he’s got one crazy build.

Clad in black from head to toe, he sits on the large cough, then spreads his arms at the back of his head, ruffling his hair in the process. I gulp at the single act. He’s sexy.

“Didn’t you hear me?” He’s so calm, but the threat behind his words doesn’t go unheard. I jump again, scrambling toward the pole, and gripping it like my life depends on it.

I close my eyes, trying to become one with the music. Pressing my back against the pole, I raise my leg and lift myself off the ground, sucking deep breaths whenever I notice his eyes on me.

“I don’t bite.” His voice cuts through me like a sharp blade, the kind ladies would die for in an audiobook. “You don’t have to take deep breaths whenever our eyes clash.”

“Maybe if you smile a little, I wouldn’t feel so threatened."

“Smile?” he repeats, the word foreign on the tip of his tongue. “My employees panic each time I smile.”

I freeze on the pole, my both legs wrapped around the metallic thing, my hair sticking to my neck due to some little sweat.

“Do you want to know what makes them panic?” He asks again, and I shake my head frantically.

“Hell no.”

He chuckles, and it’s supposed to lighten the air, but it doesn’t. He proceeds to tap his thigh, urging me to come close with a flick of his finger. “Come here.”

“I think I’d rather dance.”

“I don’t repeat my words.”

I climb down from the pole. Hesitantly, I take a step forward, clenching and unclenching my gloved fists like it’ll help me relax. Again, I feel his sharp eyes on me—but this time, it’s more intense. With each step, his eyes seem to strip me of my clothing.

Finally sitting on his lap, he doesn’t even touch me. A relief, though—but why do I want him to do something? The thought disgusts me.

“You’re one bold woman,” His voice tickles my ears. “Agreeing to dance for Sebastian Voss is like a death wish, but you still went ahead like it’s no big deal.”

My veins stand out in my neck. “I—”

“Most strippers here would rather jump in front of a moving bus than stay in the same room with me…but here you are, sitting on my thigh like a little dove.”

I try to stand. He holds me down with a tight grip around my waist. “Are you that desperate to make some money? You don’t mind leaving here with a broken arm because of a few thousand dollars?”

I choke on my breath. “This….this is a misunderstanding."

And he laughs. It’s cold, creepy, frightening in the most disturbing ways. “A misunderstanding?” He tucks a loose strand of my hair behind my ears, and I want to die.

“I strangely don’t want to hurt you to feel less upset, little dove. Instead, I want to keep you. I find you…interesting.”

Does that mean he’d spare me?

He grabs my chin, making me look into his dark, soulless eyes. He sucks my soul in with his breathtaking beauty, but the devilish curl of his lips makes me want to run. “So what do you say?”

I gulp. “No.”

He raises a brow. “No?”

“Absolutely not.” I say more firmly. “I’m not something you can keep.”

“A million dollars.” He murmurs, leaning closer.

My heart skips a beat.

“Be my personal whore,” he continues, voice low, “and I’ll pay you a million dollars. Monthly.”