Chapter 3 – The Man with the Green Eyes

Chapter 3 – The Man with the Green Eyes

Juliet Pierce

The night had actually been… calm. People here barely drank. Samy and I were slowly getting used to the scenes unfolding around us, even if my feet were screaming from the stilettos. These were definitely not shoes made for waitressing.

But him. The man with the green eyes.

Every few minutes I felt his stare burning into me. He never interacted with anyone except the blond guy beside him (Caio had whispered they were the owners). Whenever their table ordered something, I begged Samy to take it. My heart raced just from him looking at me across the room. I didn’t want to imagine what would happen if I got close.

Atlas was always nearby, quietly making it clear to any Dom who lingered too long that “they’re not into it.” That was enough. Here, they were called Doms, and one sharp word from Atlas sent them moving.

A submissive girl who’d befriended us at the bar explained there were far more Doms looking for partners than submissives willing to play. That’s why they kept circling us like sharks.

I was leaning against the bar catching my breath when Caio waved me over.

“Ju, I need you to take a tray to room twelve.”

“Room?” I blinked. “There are rooms?”

He grinned. “Some scenes aren’t for public viewing. Certain Doms value their privacy.”

“Okay… where is it?”

He nodded toward the main stage. “Corridor beside the stage. Private wing. Knock, wait for them to open, don’t step inside until invited, and whatever you see—eyes down, mouth shut. Got it?”

I nodded, forcing a smile, but my stomach flipped. My eyes had adjusted to what happened on the main floor… but behind closed doors?

I followed his directions. My hands shook—not fear exactly, more like anxious anticipation of what waited on the other side.

Room 12. I knocked twice. Nothing.

I remembered Caio’s words: wait for them to open. So I waited.

A couple appeared in the hallway. The man’s gaze crawled over me like he was already undressing me. The woman on his arm didn’t appreciate it.

I knocked again.

This time the door opened.

It was the same man I’d seen on my very first night—the one circling the blindfolded woman on the stage. He didn’t speak, just tilted his head for me to enter.

“Excuse me, sir…” I hurried to the side table, set the tray down, and tried not to look.

I failed.

A woman knelt on the floor, naked except for a thick leather collar around her throat. The leash was wrapped loosely around his fist. When he realized I was staring, he smiled—slow, predatory.

“Thank you, sir,” I mumbled and practically ran out, pulling the door shut behind me.

My heart was a full samba parade. I leaned against the wall, eyes closed, trying to breathe.

A hand landed on my waist.

“Hello, darling…”

My eyes snapped open.

It was the man from the hallway—the one who’d been eye-fucking me minutes ago.

“Good evening, sir. Can I help you?” I tried to sound steady. Failed.

“Yes. You can walk with me to my room.”

Instant red alert.

I tried to step away; his grip tightened.

“I’m sorry, sir, I’m just a waitress.”

“That’s exactly why I need your services.” He squeezed. My entire body started shaking. “My room’s full of empty glasses and bottles. I need them cleared.”

I nodded, terrified, and let him lead me. The second we crossed the threshold I saw the lie: the table was spotless.

The lock clicked behind me.

“You said there were things to pick up.”

“My mistake.” He stepped closer.

“Then I have nothing to do here.” I moved for the door.

His hand clamped around my arm like a vice.

“I didn’t say you could leave.”

I yanked—nothing. For one horrifying second George flashed in my mind: the same grip, the same rage, the same ending in bruises and blood.

“Please, sir. Like I said—I’m just the waitress.”

He jerked me against him. I twisted. His mouth came down on mine.

I bit him. Hard.

The slap cracked across my face like lightning. I stumbled in the heels and hit the floor. Before I could scramble up he was on me, knees pinning my thighs.

He buried his nose in my neck, inhaling like an animal.

“You’re going to obey me, little mouse,” he growled, biting my earlobe hard enough to draw blood. “Or I’ll punish you.”

“Please—I’m not part of this. I’m not one of the girls.”

He tried to kiss me again. I turned my face.

“Please let me go.”

“That’s it, mouse. Beg for me.”

I fought, but he was huge. His hand slid under my skirt, fingers forcing their way between my legs. I remembered Atlas’s voice like a lifeline.

“I don’t want this!” Tears spilled over. “You can’t force me—Mr. Atlas said!”

“Atlas is a fucking idiot, and right now you’re my pretty little mouse…”

“NO!” I screamed. “STOP! STOP! STOP!”

Useless. George flooded my mind again—all the nights he took whatever he wanted while I cried.

Atlas’s words echoed through the panic.

“If you hear ‘Red,’ everything stops. No questions.”

I sucked in a desperate breath.

“RED! RED! RED!”

He laughed, pinning both my wrists above my head with one hand while the other shoved higher under my skirt, stroking me through the thin fabric.

Tears blurred everything. Sobs choked me. I felt him hard against my hip.

I closed my eyes and screamed with everything left in me.

“REEEED!”

The door exploded off its hinges.

And through the splintered frame stepped…

The man with the green eyes.