How much for the night, handsome?

Alexander

The air reeked of alcohol, sweat, and desperation. People swayed on the dance floor like they were possessed, women grinding against men as if their lives depended on it. Voices rose over the music as they flirted shamelessly with every man.

Men who craved attention, surrounded by women who wouldn’t normally even look at them if they met outside, were happy and excited at the chance of touching a beautiful woman, even if what they wanted was to suck their pockets dry.

How pathetic.

I leaned back in my chair, crossing my legs and closing my eyes, letting out a slow breath.

What the hell was I doing here again?

This place wasn’t my type of scene. The flashing lights, the chaos, the cloying perfume that hung heavy in the air. Annoying. Yet, here I was, sitting in the private section like a king presiding over a court of fools.

I opened my eyes and scanned the crowd lazily. Then, out of nowhere, a woman walked toward me, her hips swaying deliberately, a glass of wine in her hand, and a smile plastered on her face.

Oh, great. Another one.

She reached my table, her heels clicking against the floor. Without waiting for an invitation, she sat down in the chair across from me, placing her glass on the table.

“Mr. Alexander,” she purred, her voice honeyed and smooth. “It seems like you need a drink…” Her lips curled into a sultry smile. “…or maybe something else.”

I stared at her, bored, my expression as flat as the tone I used. She might as well have been a rat that had crawled its way to my feet.

When I didn’t respond, she didn’t take the hint. Instead, she leaned forward, brushing the lapel of my suit with her fingers in what I assumed she thought was a seductive gesture. Her nails dragged lightly against the fabric.

She was pretty, I’d give her that. The kind of pretty that could drive most men to their knees. Her lips were painted crimson, her hair perfectly styled, her dress clinging to every curve.

But to me, she was nothing. Less than nothing.

I smiled faintly, just enough to give her false hope, and said, “Of course, I need something. Will you give it to me?”

Her eyes lit up, and she nodded eagerly. “Anything, Mr. Alexander. Anything you want.”

I picked up the glass of wine from the table, swirling it slowly in my hand. The liquid caught the light, a deep crimson that mirrored the color of her lips.

She watched me intently, anticipation written all over her face.

Without a word, I turned to her and tilted the glass, pouring the wine over her head.

The liquid ran down her hair, dripping onto her face, her dress, the chair. She gasped loudly, her eyes wide with shock. The music seemed to dim for a moment, and every head turned towards us.

Perfect.

I leaned forward, resting my elbows on the table as I fixed her with a cold stare. My voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, but it was loud enough for her to hear.

“Touch me one more time with those filthy hands,” I said, my tone as sharp as a blade, “and I’ll cut them off.”

Her mouth opened and closed like a fish gasping for air, but no words came out. She was frozen, drenched, humiliated.

I leaned back in my chair, picking up a napkin and dabbing the tips of my fingers as if her mere presence had tainted me. “Now, get out of my sight.”

She scrambled to her feet, her cheeks burning with embarrassment, and fled into the crowd.

“Was that really necessary?”

The voice cut through the noise, casual but laced with amusement. I looked up to see Leo strolling toward me, a smirk plastered on his face like he’d just witnessed the most entertaining thing all night.

“You tell me,” I said, leaning back in my chair as he dropped into the seat beside me.

Leo shook his head, chuckling. “You’ve got a talent for making scenes, man. But honestly, that was hilarious. But you shouldn't be mean, you know you’re at my bachelor party. Have a little fun for once.”

I sighed and gave him a flat look. “That’s why I’m here in the first place, tolerating all of this.”

“Tolerating?” Leo raised an eyebrow, looking slightly offended. “You call this tolerating? You just poured wine over a woman’s head like it was nothing. You're fueling the rumors.”

I didn’t answer, my gaze shifting downward to the lower level of the club.

I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand them.

It wasn’t just the noise or the desperation. It was the people. I hated them—especially women.

I wasn’t one of those men who believed women were inferior. No, it was something else, something I couldn't place my hand on, something that I couldn't remember. But I just knew one thing.

I hated them. Despised them.

Because of that, the rumors had spread like wildfire—Alexander King, the richest man in the country, was gay. The rumors said I hated women, looked down on them, couldn’t stand their presence.

None of it bothered me. Let them talk. Let them assume. I’d stopped caring what the world thought of me years ago.

“Don’t they have anything fun to do here?” I muttered, taking another drink from the table.

Leo shrugged, swirling the drink in his hand. “Meh, I’m bored too. It’s not like I can be down there dancing with people like the rest of them.”

“Then why are you here?” I asked, arching an eyebrow at him.

He smirked. “Because of your brother. My future husband.” He leaned back in his chair, shaking his head. “He told me I had to have a bachelor party at a strip club. Said it’s tradition or whatever.”

I shook my head. Of course. I had almost forgotten how crazy my family was. My brother especially.

The King family were strange, everyone knew that, but nobody dared say it to our faces. There are two types of wealth: old money and new money. If new money were the ones bragging about their wealth and craving attention, old money were the ones sipping tea while everyone already knew their names.

And my family? We were at the very top of the ladder of old money. From generation to generation, we were basically untouchable.

As my thoughts wandered, my eyes flicked back to the floor below, and then stopped at the ridiculous sight in front of me.

A woman stood on the stage, moving to the music with an energy that was unlike anyone else in the room. She was wearing a dress, different from the half naked women around her. It wasn’t just her outfit that caught my attention—it was the way she danced, like she was the main character in her own story and everyone else were just extras in her world.

My gaze lingered on her, drawn to her for reasons I couldn’t explain. And then it hit me. She looked so familiar.

“What are you looking at?” Leo said, following my gaze, he let out a low whistle when he saw who had my attention. “Whoa, is that a woman….are you actually interested in her? I mean, your taste is a bit weird, but hey, at least you are showing interest in something.”

I ignored him, my eyes still locked on her. My chest tightened as a thought crept into my mind, one I didn’t want to entertain. Why does she look so familiar?

“Hey, Alexander, are you listening—”

Before I realized what was happening, I was on my feet.

“Wait, are you serious? Are you actually interested in her?”

I didn’t answer. My feet were already moving, taking me down the steps toward the stage. The crowd parted as I walked.

I stopped at the edge of the stage, looking at her, trying to remember where exactly I had seen her before.

She didn’t notice me at first, too caught up in her own world. But then, as if sensing my presence, she froze. Slowly, she turned around.

The moment our eyes met, her body stiffened, and she stumbled back slightly. My hand moved instinctively, catching her by the waist before she could fall.

Her eyes widened as she stared up at me. And then, to my shock, she smiled and pulled me by my suit so we could be closer. “How much for the night, handsome?”