Chapter Three

Four hours later, Cora and I stood outside Crimson Den with legs that were shaking and suddenly refused to move.

The building…looking just normal and plain. Just a plain brick warehouse squatting on the edge of neutral territory—no neon signs, no velvet ropes, no bouncers in suits. Only a single red bulb glowing above a steel door like a warning light.

Cora tapped my shoulder, and I jumped before turning to her.

She was grinning. “How are you feeling?”

“I… I had no idea this was a sex club,” I breathed. “I can’t believe you brought me to a sex club. I can’t believe I allowed you to bring me to a sex club.”

She tucked a strand of hair behind the straps. “You know we can turn around right now. Go home. I’ll help you pick out a gorgeous white dress for your funeral—sorry, I meant wedding.”

I swallowed against the hysterical laugh bubbling up my throat. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m helping plenty.” She squeezed my hand hard enough to hurt. “Come on. Before you lose your nerve.”

The door opened before we knocked. A woman in a tailored crimson suit appeared, checked something on Cora’s phone, nodded once, and waved us through without a word.

The second we crossed the threshold, everything changed.

The air turned thick—warm and heavy with sweat and expensive perfume and something darker underneath. Music pulsed low and rhythmic, a bass line that vibrated in my ribs like a second heartbeat.

And then I saw them.

Everywhere.

Bodies moving in the red-tinted darkness. A woman bent over a velvet chaise, dress hiked up to her waist while a man in leather pants fucked her from behind, his hand fisted in her hair. Another couple against the wall—her legs locked around his waist, his mouth on her throat, her head thrown back in ecstasy. A raised platform where two women writhed together while a circle of people watched in reverent silence, hands touching, mouths hungry.

I stopped walking.

“Cora,” I whispered, unable to tear my eyes away from a man on his knees, head buried between a woman’s thighs while she gripped his hair and moaned. “How the fuck did you get to know about this place?”

She smirked, steering me forward by the elbow. “I have my ways, babe. Also, I have hobbies.”

“Hobbies,” I repeated faintly. Someone cried out to my left from pleasure, and another person laughed to my right.

There was just too much going on around me at once, and my skin felt too tight, like it might split open and spill all my terror onto the floor.

“Stop gawking.” Cora leaned close, voice dropping. “I texted Dax, the owner, while you were getting ready. Your guy is already upstairs waiting. Room 217. You have nothing to worry about… I paid triple the going rate to ensure total discretion and covered a full health screening so he is clean. And according to Dax he is stupidly hot. Like, forget-your-own-name hot.”

My stomach dropped to my knees. “I’m about to lose my virginity to a complete stranger in a sex club.”

“People have one-night stands literally every single day,” Cora said matter-of-factly. “So don’t make it a big deal…It happens every time. The only difference is yours comes with a purpose. One hour of your life, Isla. That’s the price you get to pay for your freedom. For your art. For never having to spread your legs for some Alpha who sees you as a glorified incubator.”

I stared at her as the music thrummed. A woman screamed in pleasure somewhere down the hall, the sound raw and unashamed.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

She was right… she was very right.

This was way out of my comfort zone… but if it is what I had to do to ensure that the marriage alliance was terminated… to ensure that I get to keep my dreams, then it is worth it.

“Bar’s that way if you need liquid courage. Then on the second floor, at the end of the hall on the right, that’s where the room is. I’ll be down here the whole time. You need me, you text. I’ll kick the door down if I have to.”

“You’re not allowed upstairs?” I asked, heart still racing wildly against my ribcage.

“Nah, unfortunately I’m not. Your session, your privacy. But I’m not going anywhere.” She touched my cheek through the mask. “You’ve got this. You’re braver than you think.”

I took the key. My fingers trembled so badly the brass clinked against itself.

At the bar, I ordered tequila and didn’t bother with salt or lime.

I definitely needed the liquid courage because there is no way I would be able to do this completely sober.

I took one shot, savoring the burn as it went down my throat… But at least it steadied the shaking in my hands.

The bartender—a guy with a lip ring and surprisingly gentle eyes—poured a second before I asked.

“On the house,” he said quietly. “You look like you need it.”

I threw it back, and he poured a third.

“For luck.”

I downed that one too, and the alcohol bloomed warm and numbing in my chest, spreading liquid confidence through my veins.

Cora appeared at my elbow, arms crossed, watching me like a mother sending her kid off to the first day of school. “Remember…keep your identity a secret. You walk in, you get what you came for, you walk out a free woman. It is as simple as that.”

“Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck.” Her expression softened. “You just need to remember who you’re doing this for.”

Me.

I was doing this for myself. For my future. For every dream my father tried to sell off to the highest bidder.

I turned and walked toward the stairs before I could second-guess everything.