Chapter 3: Club Velvet

Calla sat in the dim light of her dressing room, staring at her phone. The club was extra busy today, and so was her heart.

Two days had passed since that night he requested for her exclusively. Him whose name she didn’t know. 

She hadn’t expected to think about it. She should just say 'no' to him and move on. It was supposed to be another job, just another night. She had done it many times. But there was something about him. The way he didn’t try to rush, didn’t pressure her. Just took what he wanted, without a word.

And Calla couldn’t stop thinking about the way his body felt pressed against hers.

It wasn’t like it was new for her. She had been with men like him before. Rich. Powerful. Detached. But... He was different. He had a way of making everything feel... sharper.

"Gurl! What the fuck is you thinking! Better get ya ass ready 'fore Big Boss gets here and see ya ain't ready yet!" Luxe yelled, running around to get ready. 

"Shit!" She shook her head, trying to push him out of her mind. She couldn’t afford distractions. "Oh my goodness. Thanks Luxe!" She quickly finish with her makeup, and readjust her lingerie. 

Luxe looked around, making sure Big Boss isn't near, before walking to Calla. "Don't tell me you're finna accept that man's proposal!" 

Calla pressed her lips in a thin line. She's almost regretting telling Luxe about that crazily hot man, and his exclusive proposal. 

But Luxe was her best friend, and they tell each other everything. 

"Maybe." Calla replied, applying more bronzer to her cheekbones, eyes on the mirror. 

"Oh for fuck sake gurl, you know how our line of work is... Accepting to work exclusively means too many strings attached!" She whisper yelled. "Remember what happened to Raven Rose? That bitch was so greedy, she accepted an exclusive contract with a darn lunatic! Now he wouldn't let her go!"

Calla paused the movement with the bronzer brush, remembering clearly what happened a year ago. "It wouldn't happen to me." She said with certainty. But her mind went to the one man that almost broke her years ago.

Luxe scoffed, "Ya right! That’s what they all say." She pushed her braids in a high ponytail. "And besides, ya ain't even know his name yet!"

Calla sighed, her phone buzzed, and she looked down. It was a message from the manager. 

[“He has requested you again... He's at the club private suite."]

Her heart sank. 'He's here? At the club?' It wasn't even up to the three days he'd given her.

Luxe took a peek at the message, "Will ya do it?" She asked. 

Calla knows a large amount of money would be involved. She was certain, because of the huge sum he paid after their first night. Double of what she’d been paid before. 

The money was tempting. Too tempting. But she wasn’t sure if she wanted to be bound to him for too long. Not because she was afraid of him, but because she knew how this worked. She knew it was just sex. No strings. No emotions. Nothing more.

Yet, part of her wanted to say yes. Because, no matter how much she tried to ignore it, she craved that night. The heat. The hunger. The way he took what he wanted and didn’t ask for anything else.

She clicked on the message and typed her reply.

“I’ll be there.”

 

                         ♡ ♡ ♡ ♡

This man didn’t care for parties. He hated small talk and hated fake smiles even more. But the club wasn’t like other places. It was quiet, private, and expensive enough to keep the noise out.

He sat alone in a red velvet booth, one hand wrapped around a glass of scotch. He hadn’t taken a sip. He didn’t come here to drink. Tonight, he needed something else.

Calla has been taking too long to gave him a reply, and he's been getting impatient. 'It's only been two days' Something in him said. But he ignored it.

The manager walked over, dressed in red that matched her sharp lipstick. "Good evening Mr Romano. Calla will be here shortly."

He nodded and she left.

A few minutes passed. Then, Calla walked in.

And something shifted.

She was stunning, yes, but it was more than that. She wore a pink robe, and underneath it, she had a pink lingerie to match. Her heels didn’t make a sound. Her dark brown hair framed her face, but it was her eyes that held him. Big, deep, and full of something he couldn’t name.

She sat down without a word, calm but distant. "You asked to see me."

"Yes." He finally took a sip of his scotch, "I'm here for your response."

Her eyes moved to his face, "It isn't up to three days yet."

"I'm a very impatient man, and I don't like people keeping me waiting." He twirled the glass in his hand.

She had her gaze on him, taking in his sexiness as he spoke. The way his throat danced as he swallowed. The veins on his strong hand. His thick brows and long lashes. Long jet-black hair. 

He was created so carefully and gracefully. 'But who exactly is he?' She wondered. 

"How long will it last?" She asked. 

A smirk spread on his face and he passed a brown envelope to her. "Everything you need to know about the duration and payment, are all in there. Go over it." He uttered. 

He didn’t make any movement to leave or ask her to, and she furrowed her brows. "You mean now?" 

"Now."

Calla pulled out the content of the envelope. It was a two pages paper and a pen.

Her fingers tightened around the paper as she read his name again, almost in disbelief.

Rico De Romano?

She’d heard the name whispered in clubs, bars, even in the quiet corners of the city. He wasn’t just rich. He was feared. 

The kind of man you didn’t cross if you valued your life. 

Leader of 'I Sette', the most powerful and secretive mafia circle in the country.

People didn’t just fear Rico, they respected him. Ruthless in business. Unforgiving to those who crossed him. His name alone could make men twice his size back down, and here she was, holding a contract with his name on it.

She forced herself to keep her cool, even as her pulse raced. She wasn’t some scared little girl. This was just business.

Rico noticed her silence and raised a brow. “Problem?”

She met his gaze, unbothered. “No. Just making sure I’m not signing my life away.”

He almost smirked. “Smart.”

She scanned the paper, keeping her head high. The contract was simple but strict.

___________________________________–––

One year of exclusive companionship.

She would be on call whenever he needed her. (Parties, business trips, galas, nights at his place.)

No other clients. No other men.

Discretion was a must. No talking about him or the arrangement to anyone.

A generous weekly payment, enough to cover her brother’s tuition and rent twice over.

He’d cover all her expenses (clothes, housing, travel, if needed.)

Immediate termination if she broke any clause, especially the exclusivity.

Protection. He would make sure she and her brother stayed safe.

If she tried to leave before the year was up, he would ensure no one else would hire her, not just in the city, but anywhere she tried to work.

___________________________________

At the bottom, there was a spot for her signature.

She glanced up at him, keeping her tone steady. “You’re offering a lot for just... one year.”

He didn’t smile, but his eyes didn’t leave hers. “You’re worth it. I get what I pay for.”

She almost scoffed. “You’re that sure I won’t run?”

He stepped closer, his voice low and unwavering. “Once you see what it’s like being mine, running won’t cross your mind.”

Her pulse quickened, but she didn’t let it show. “And if it does?”

“You won’t.” He spoke with a certainty that made her want to challenge him. “But if you do, you’ll leave with nothing. And you’ll find every door closed to you. No one hires someone who breaks my contracts.”

She raised a brow. He was right. 

He's Rico De Romano after all. 

Something dark flickered in his eyes. “I don’t share. That’s why I’m making this clear.”

She picked up the pen, her lips curving into a small, almost defiant smile. “Hope you can handle me for a year.”

She signed.

When she handed the paper back, he took it without looking at it, his focus still on her. “Good... You start now.” He didn’t hesitate as he pulled her to him, slamming his lips on hers, followed with ripping of their clothes.