Chapter 1 – Just a Job

 

Juliet Pierce

I was in my bedroom getting ready when Samantha landed us another freelance gig. I still needed a steady job—five interviews this month alone and nothing—but the emergency fund was shrinking fast, and these side hustles Samy kept dragging us into were keeping the lights on. Two days from now I had another interview, though, and something in my gut told me this one might actually stick.

It had been months since I’d heard a single word from George, and I prayed it stayed that way. Brooklyn had been good to us. I’d made real friends, the kids were happy, and—best of all—we were over a thousand miles away from Charleston.

“Honey, I’m taking the kids home with me,” Celeste called from the hallway.

“Thank you,” I said, turning and squeezing her hands.

Celeste was my neighbor, just like Samy, and over the past few months she’d become the grandma my kids never had. They called her “Grandma Celeste,” and she ate it up.

“You don’t have to thank me. I love those little monsters.” She grinned.

“I just want to say goodbye to them first.” She nodded, and we walked into the living room where my two were waiting, tiny suitcases already packed.

“I thought it was only one night,” I said, hands on my hips in mock outrage. “Why the luggage?”

“Grandma Celeste is taking us to the park super early tomorrow,” Laurinha announced.

“And you always sleep in when you work late with Aunt Samy,” Heitor added, like a prosecutor delivering the final blow.

I sighed dramatically. “Fine, traitors.” I opened my arms and they crashed into me. “Be good. And tomorrow at the park, stay right beside Celeste, okay?”

They nodded solemnly. I hugged my little pieces of heart as tight as I could, kissed the tops of their heads, and let Celeste herd them out the door. Before she left, she whispered, “Knock ’em dead tonight,” and I blew one last kiss to all three of them.

Back in my room, I slipped on my heels and finished pinning up my hair.

“Ju!” Samy yelled from the living room.

“Coming!” I grabbed my purse, tossed my phone inside, and met her at the door. I barely used my car these days, but tonight’s venue was way the hell out there, and driving was our best bet for getting home afterward.

“You sure this is the place?” I asked, eyeing the building with the same suspicion she was.

“Positive. Ed said it’s members-only, super private. Told us to ask for a guy named Atlas.”

I nodded. We climbed out, smoothed our clothes, and walked up to… a wall. No handle, no bell. Just a massive slab of dark steel fused into the brick.

We were in Hell’s Kitchen, though. The whole neighborhood screamed bold—the kind of bold that flirted with danger.

“I think you’re supposed to knock,” I teased, only half-joking.

“What if it’s one of those ultra-secret clubs full of mobsters and you need a special knock? Like knock-knock… pause… knock-knock-knock?” Samy whispered, doing the motions. We both stifled nervous giggles.

“Just knock, woman,” I hissed, even though my stomach was doing cartwheels.

Before her knuckles touched metal, the door slid open with a soft hiss. A man who had to be pushing six-foot-seven, built like a linebacker with a face that said he ate smiles for breakfast, filled the doorway.

“Can I help you?” His voice rumbled low, like distant thunder.

“Samantha Jones and Juliet Pierce,” Samy answered, trying to sound braver than she felt. “Eduardo Garcia sent us. We’re waitressing tonight.”

“Let them in, Wolf,” a calm, authoritative voice said from a speaker overhead. A little red light blinked—we’d been watched the whole time.

Wolf stepped aside. “Corridor. All the way to the end.”

We murmured thanks and stepped inside. The hallway was wide but swallowed in shadows. Burnished concrete floor reflected faint crimson lights hidden along the baseboards, making the walls dance as we moved. It felt like walking straight into someone else’s secret.

I grabbed Samy’s hand tighter.

“I’m starting to think this was a terrible idea,” I whispered.

She just gave me a shaky grin and kept walking.

The muffled bass grew louder with every step until the hallway suddenly ended at a mirrored door that slid open on its own.

I froze.

“Juliet…” Samy breathed, her voice trembling.

This wasn’t a nightclub.

It was a cavernous underworld lit in blood-red and molten gold, shadows writhing across dark walls. The air itself felt thick, charged, like a whispered promise you weren’t sure you wanted to hear.

My eyes couldn’t settle. To the left, a raised platform held a polished dance pole—except no dancer. A blindfolded woman in nothing but lingerie knelt in the center. A bare-chested man circled her slowly, intricate ink running from his shoulder all the way down his arms. He just watched her, like a predator deciding where to bite first.

As if he felt my stare, his head snapped toward me. I tried to look away, but those eyes pinned me in place.

I jerked my gaze to the opposite side. Worse. A woman was suspended by her wrists from a metal frame, back arched, reacting to the lightest touch of soft suede flogger tails. The man wielding it—shirtless, same style of tattoos—moved with deliberate grace. Laughter, whispers, soft moans floated through the air, but none of it sounded cheap. It was terrifyingly… refined.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, cheeks burning.

We had stepped through a portal into another world.

“Ju… what is this place?” Samy’s grip threatened to crush my fingers.

I shook my head. I had no words.

Then he appeared.

Tall, dark blazer over a black shirt with a few buttons undone, hair tied in a low bun. Brown eyes so intense I forgot how to blink. He carried himself like the room had been waiting for him to arrive.

“Samantha Jones and Juliet Pierce?”

We nodded in perfect sync.

“I’m Atlas. Welcome to Paradise.” His mouth curved into the faintest smile, but his eyes stayed cold.

“We, uh…” My voice cracked. I tried again. “We’re here to waitress. Eduardo Garcia sent us.”

“Yes. I was told.” His gaze swept over us—not sleazy, not like the looks I knew too well. It was assessment, like he needed to be certain we actually belonged here. “First time in a place like this, I take it?”

“Painfully obvious?” Samy asked, forcing a smile.

“Excruciatingly.”

My pulse was hammering. The air smelled sweet and smoky; the bass vibrated inside my ribs; every corner hid something I wasn’t ready to see.

“Come. I’ll show you where to leave your things.” Atlas turned, expecting us to follow. “Then I’ll go over the rules.”

“Rules?” I croaked.

“Yes. We have rules here. And you will follow them.”

“We’re not exactly rule-breakers,” Samy said nervously. “Ju won’t even jaywalk.”

I shot her a look that said are you serious right now? She mouthed sorry, I’m freaking out.

Atlas watched the exchange with the tiniest hint of amusement.

“This way, ladies.” He opened a door. “Staff locker room. Leave your belongings. Your uniforms are on the bench. I’ll give you privacy. When you’re ready, wait right here by the door. Do not wander the floor until you know the rules.”

We nodded like obedient schoolgirls. The door closed behind him.

I took two steps inside and stopped dead.

“Holy Mother of Single Moms…”

“Holy fucking shit,” Samy blurted.

And that’s when I knew: tonight was just getting started. I just wasn’t sure yet whether it was going to be the worst night of my life… or the best one.