Chapter 5: Fractured Trust

NOAH’S POV

Lila’s eyes were wide, coffee mug forgotten in her hand as she stared at me across the tiny

kitchen table. The apartment smelled like burnt toast and her vanilla candle, but the air felt thick,

suffocating. She’d seen me. Not just leaving the club performing. On the pole. Half-naked. And

then walking out with a man who looked like he could buy the whole damn building.

“You followed me?” My voice cracked. I sank into the chair, ass still tender from Elliott’s

relentless claiming, the ache a constant reminder of how far I’d fallen.

“Yeah, I followed you.” Lila set the mug down hard enough to slosh coffee over the rim.

“Because you’ve been disappearing every night, coming home smelling like smoke and sweat,

dodging questions. I thought you were dealing or something worse. Then I saw you on that stage,

Noah. Twisting around that pole like you were born for it. And that guy with the gray eyes and

the suit looked at you like he owned you.”

My stomach twisted. “It’s not what you think.”

“Then tell me what it is.” She leaned forward, voice dropping. “Because if you’re in trouble if

someone’s forcing you—”

“No one’s forcing me.” The words tasted like ash. I rubbed my face, glasses fogging slightly.

“The dancing… It pays the tuition. Mom left me nothing but bills when she died. Dad’s in prison

for fraud. Scholarships only cover so much. I started small private parties, then Inferno. It’s just a

job.”

Lila’s expression softened, but only a fraction. “And the guy? The one who dragged you out like

you were his property?”

I hesitated. Telling her about Elliott meant crossing a line I couldn’t cross. But lying to Lila felt

worse.

“He’s… my professor. Dr. Elliott.”

Her jaw dropped. “Your ethics professor? The one you blush every time he calls your name?

Jesus, Noah.”

Heat flooded my face. “It’s complicated.”

“Complicated how? Because from where I stood, it looked like he fucked you senseless in an

alley and then took you home like a prize.”

I flinched. She wasn’t wrong

Before I could answer, my phone buzzed again. Marcus’s photo stared back at me me arched on

the pole, Elliott’s hands gripping my hips, faces unmistakable. The caption beneath it: Tonight.

10 PM. Back office. Come alone or this goes to the dean.

Blackmail. Full stop.

Lila saw my face change. “What is it?”

I turned the screen away. “Nothing. Work stuff.”

“Bullshit.” She reached across the table, snatched the phone before I could stop her. Her eyes

scanned the photo, then the message. Color drained from her face. “Noah… this is extortion. You

need to go to the police.”

“I can’t.” My voice was small. “If this gets out, I lose everything. Scholarship. Degree. Future.

And Elliott he’s already walking a tightrope. If the university finds out he’s sleeping with a

student, even if it’s consensual…”

Lila stared at me like I’d grown a second head. “You’re protecting him? After he publicly

claimed you were like some caveman?”

I swallowed hard. “It’s not just sex. There’s something else going on. He’s investigating the club

Marcus, the side deals, the exploitation. He’s undercover. That’s why he was there.”

She exhaled slowly. “So he’s using you as bait? Or as a fuck toy with benefits?”

“Both, maybe.” The admission burned. “But I’m using him too. The money he promised… it

could get me out of debt. Clean slate.”

Lila stood, pacing the small kitchen. “You’re playing with fire. And that Jax guy he was

watching you like he wanted to burn the whole place down to keep you safe. At least he seems to

give a shit without strings.”

Jax. The thought of him tattooed arms, that protective edge sent a conflicting jolt through me.

Last night he’d offered to wash me clean of Elliott. Part of me still wanted that gentleness. The

other part craved the brutal possession Elliott gave me.

I stood too, wincing at the pull in my ass. “I have to go tonight. Meet Marcus. If I don’t, he sends

this to everyone.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“No. He said alone."

Fuck that.” Lila grabbed her jacket. “I’m not letting you walk into a trap by yourself.”

We argued for twenty minutes, but she wouldn’t budge. In the end, we compromised: she’d wait

outside the club, phone ready to call campus security if things went south.

I showered hot water, stinging the bite marks on my neck, the handprints on my hips, then

dressed in jeans and a hoodie, trying to look like the quiet student again. But every step reminded

me of Elliott inside me, claiming me twice before dawn.

I texted him on the way: Need to talk. Club tonight. Marcus has photos.

His reply came fast: Do NOT go alone. I’ll be there. Stay in public areas.

Too late for that.

Club Inferno was quieter mid-week with fewer dancers, dimmer lights. Marcus waited in the

back office, door ajar, cigar smoke curling out. I stepped inside, heart hammering.

He didn’t look up from his phone at first. “Close the door.”

I did. The lock clicked.

“Sit.” He gestured to the chair opposite his desk. I stayed standing.

“What do you want?”

Marcus finally met my eyes. “You’ve been a good earner, Nyx. But your professor friend? He's

in trouble. Been sniffing around my books for weeks. Asking questions. Threatening my

operation.”

I swallowed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He laughed short, ugly. “Sure you don’t. But here’s the deal: you feed me everything he tells you.

Every plan, every meeting. In return, I delete the photos. And I throw in a bonus enough to cover

next semester and your rent.”

My mouth went dry. “You want me to spy on him.”

“Exactly. And keep fucking him if that’s what it takes. Keep him distracted. Keep him close.”

Betrayal tasted like bile. “And if I say no?”

Marcus leaned back, opening a drawer. He pulled out a flash drive, slid it across the desk. “Then

this goes viral. Not just to the dean, every alumni group, every news outlet. ‘Star Student Turned Stripper Fucks Professor for Grades.’ You think you’ll graduate? Do you think anyone will hire

you?”

I stared at the drive. Then at him.

The door burst open behind me.

Jax.

He looked furious hair disheveled, knuckles already bruised like he’d hit something on the way

here. “Nyx—get out.”

Marcus stood. “Rivera, this doesn’t concern—”

Jax ignored him, grabbing my arm. “He’s lying. The photos aren’t the only thing he’s got. He’s

got video. From last night. You and the professor. Full view.”

My knees buckled. Video. Of Elliott fucking me against the pole. In front of witnesses.

Jax pulled me toward the door. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Marcus’s voice stopped us cold. “Walk out that door, and it hits the internet in thirty seconds.”

Jax turned, eyes blazing. “Then do it. Because if you hurt him, I’ll make sure you never walk

again.”

Marcus smiled slow, vicious. “Bold words. But you forget—I own this place. And I own the

footage.”

He tapped his phone.

A video started playing grainy but unmistakable. My moans. Elliott’s growls. The wet slap of

skin.

I froze.

Then Jax moved faster than I’d ever seen him. He lunged across the desk, tackling Marcus. The

chair crashed. Phones skittered. Fists flew.

I stumbled back, heart in my throat.

And that’s when I heard the footsteps in the hallway—heavy, deliberate.

Elliott.

He filled the doorway, eyes black with rage as he took in the scene: Jax pinning Marcus, the

phone still playing our sex tape on loop.

His gaze locked on me.

Then on the screen.

Then back to me.

“Step away from him, Rivera,” he said, voice lethally quiet. “Now.”

Jax didn’t move. “Not until you tell me you’re not using him as bait.”

Elliott’s jaw clenched. “I’m not the one who just tried to sell him out.”

The video looped again my voice begging, “Please, Professor fuck me raw.”

The room went silent except for that.

Then Marcus laughed from the floor, blood on his lip.

“Too late,” he wheezed. “It’s already uploading.”

My world tilted.

And in that frozen second, I realized: I’d just lost everything