2 ~ Eyes Full Of Fury

Brinda's POV 

The city lights blurred past the taxi window like fading memories I didn’t want to remember. My fingers tapped against my thighs, restless, my breath shallow. 

Each turn of the tires brought me closer to a place I had buried—the club. The place I had once called survival. The place I had promised never to return to.

But desperation doesn’t ask for permission. It just drags you by the throat.

My stomach twisted, a cocktail of shame and dread. My heart pounded against my ribs, not in fear, but in a sick rhythm of remembrance—The music, the smoke, and the hands that reached for me in the dark. 

I had walked away from all of it. Yet here I was, willingly crawling back. Not for myself but for the woman who gave everything for me to have a better life.

But I couldn’t stop the way my hands trembled, how every breath felt like glass scraping my lungs. I wasn’t just heading to a club—I was walking into my past, into every piece of myself I swore I would outgrow.

And I was scared that it would recognize me… and welcome me home.

The taxi came to a sudden halt, jerking my body forward. I looked through the window and saw the familiar building.

While I attended college, I worked part time at the club and was able to make some money but how the hell will I make over twenty thousand dollars in seventy hours? 

Impossible!

I paid the driver, alighted from the taxi and made my way into the club, still dressed in my scrub. I tried my best to avoid the lustful gaze of men in the club but it didn't take work. Their eyes were all on me but I was pretty less concerned. 

Since I knew the way to Mr. Donald's room, I didn't wait for anyone. I darted towards his door. His guards stopped me for some time and they later allowed me in as if they had expected my arrival. 

Entering the room, I met him taking a nap on the sofa. On his desk were some items as well as a knife. He always had that with him. A smirk played on my lips before I tapped him gently on his shoulder. His eyes flipped open slowly. 

He tilted his head. And as soon as he saw me, a smile spread across his lips. “See who we have here? Isn't it nice to see Brinda Virginia again?” 

I let out a sigh while I walked to the sofa opposite him. “Can I get my job back?” I requested politely. 

“You left voluntarily,” he said, eyes scanning me like a commodity. “What happened, princess? Reality hit you too hard?”

“I don’t need a lecture,” I replied through clenched teeth. “I just need the job.”

“The floor is all yours.” He chimed, his eyes glinting with satisfaction before he returned to his nap. 

I waggled my eyebrow, thinking about why Donald would have agreed quickly. He had always been a stubborn headed man. 

Could there be a reason? Whatever the reason may be, I have to save my mother first. 

A few minutes later, his brother, Desmond, came into the room and Donald ordered that he take me out to change my dress. 

As we entered the dressing room, I could feel the eyes of my fellow dancers—male and female—staring, their judgment heavy in the air. I didn’t flinch, but inside, the humiliation was a quiet storm.

From a nurse to a stripper. How had I fallen so far?

I opened my locker. My heart raced faster as my eyes came in contact with the purse that contained five hundred dollars I had kept in my locker a day before I left the clubhouse. 

What a bright idea to come back here. 

I looked away and started dressing up, hoping to get it after I was done stripping. 

Every girl dreams of a loving family, but I was abandoned by mine. If someone ever asked what my parents looked like, I would have no answer. 

I don’t even carry their name. My identity—my whole life—was stolen from me. Instead, I became ‘Brinda Virginia,’ an orphan with no place to call home.

If only… 

Desmond's harsh voice snapped me from my thoughts. “How long are you going to take to get dressed? Do you think you're at the fucking hospital you work at?” His growl made my pulse quicken. “I don't know why you're back but if you're here to cause any sort of trouble, I’ll pluck your eyes out.” 

I shot him a deadly glare but I couldn’t afford to make him wait. I threw on the tight black skirt, my skin prickling with self-consciousness as I struggled to keep my dignity intact but for how long?

With the mirror as my only witness, I took in my reflection—long white hair, thick eyebrows, almond-shaped eyes, a nose that was delicate, full red lips, dimpled cheeks, and a baby face that didn’t belong in a place like this.

Of course, it doesn't but behind lies secrets that shouldn't be unraveled. 

I followed Desmond out and when we stepped into the dark, smoky room, the noise and heat hit me like a freight train. My heart skipped—What if one of them had been one of my patients? What would they think of me after I had turned down several advances in a short time?

But there was no time for regrets. I had seventy-two hours to save my dying mother. That’s all that mattered.

“Entertain them well.” Desmond patted my shoulder and left.

Quickly, I made my way to the podium, breathless. My face clouded with mixed emotions. I surveyed the faces in the room, though I couldn't see some of them because of the dim light.

However, my eyes locked on a man who stood out—He was dressed in black, wearing a mask that hid his features. My eyes scanned his features and my mouth opened slightly while my breath quickened. 

Why? 

His posture only reminds me of a bastard I once knew. 

Three hulking guards flanked him, their presence an unmistakable sign of his wealth and power. If I could catch his attention, maybe I could secure a bigger tip—perhaps even more.

As the heavy beat pulsed through the speakers and the red lights bathed the stage in shadows and temptation, I stepped into the spotlight like I was stepping into a memory—one I had buried a month ago.

My fingers brushed through my hair, slow and deliberate, lifting it from my shoulders before letting it fall in a cascade down my back. 

I took a step forward—my hips rolled with a sensual rhythm while my arms swayed like silk ribbons. The warm air licked my bare skin, but the fire within me burned hotter with every beat.

The music guided me as if it had been written for my bones. I twirled slowly, deliberately, letting the ends of my hair fan outward. My hands traced the curve of my waist, down to my thighs, dragging the audience’s attention like a magnet.

Of course, a woman's perfect spot to lure men in. 

I turned and gave them my back, a smirk tugging at the corner of my lips, knowing full well the tease I was creating. My fingers slid up the gleaming silver pole. I wrapped one leg around it, the other extending into a graceful line before I spun— my hair swirling like wildfire, limbs fluid and untamed.

Gasps rippled through the crowd, followed by a wave of whistles and applause. A man in the front row leaned forward, his drink forgotten in his hand, his eyes wide as if I’d just pulled him into a dream he didn’t know he wanted.

I locked eyes with him and dipped low, letting my hips roll slow and deliberate, my gaze burning into his soul like a silent dare. The audience wasn’t just watching me—they were devouring me.

And I gave myself to the moment.

My movements grew bolder after some graceful splits. My chest rose and fell in time with the music, breathless and commanding. I wasn’t just dancing.

I was reclaiming something.

And then, in a single fluid motion, I spun, presenting my back to the crowd as I wrapped myself around the pole. 

My chest heaved, my breath coming in sharp, measured gasps. The audience cheered, their applause ringing in my ears like an affirmation of everything I had to offer.

Then, Desmond stormed in, shooing the crowd out silently. I was still in a daze when I noticed the masked man stood and strode toward the podium. His guards wheeled a sofa closer, and he settled into it, crossing his legs with deliberate calm.

“Strip,” he commanded, his voice smooth, yet chilling. “I’ll give you everything you want.”

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep dancing. My body moved in slow, sensual waves, though every second felt like a punishment. I danced for what felt like hours—twenty minutes, but it dragged like an eternity. The longest I had danced.

Then, his voice sliced through the tension, “Damsel.” The Italian accent barely veiled his distaste but the voice… It's familiar, right? 

“It didn't really grab me, and it feels like you were holding back. This isn't what I was looking for, so… no pay.”

The words hit like a slap. “What? You can't do that!” I exploded, my voice sharp with frustration.

He smirked, taking a slow, deliberate step toward me. His left hand tucked into his pocket, and my heart raced as he ascended the podium. Before I could react, his hand snaked around my waist, pulling me closer. His fingers gripped my skin, sending a jolt of electricity through me.

And then… He spanked me.

My palm burned before it connected with his cheek, the slap, very satisfying. “Watch it,” I hissed. “Don’t you know the rules here?” 

His eyes narrowed, his voice dripping with challenge. “Why don’t you treat me to the rules?” His hand reached for my face, but I swatted it away.

“Next time, I’ll make it two slaps,” I warned, the venom in my words matching the fire in my veins.

I turned, only to see Donald smirking at the door, rubbing his protruding belly.

“You can't talk to our client like that? Where are your manners?” He scolded. 

Wow! Well planned. He saw the masked man go against the rule and he said nothing? This is insane. 

“It's against the rule, Mr. Donald.” 

“Whoever made a rule can bend it.” He replied, before he walked out of the room. 

“You will come running to my feet, Damsel. I will be your saviour. Take it or leave it.” The masked man said, his gaze boring into mine. 

“Over my dead body.” I forbid it then I yanked his hands off my body before I burst into Mr. Donald’s office. 

My fury subsided as my eyes scanned the bundles of cash on the table. Donald had a huge smile on his face as he paid the other strippers. “That's double your payment.” He laughed. The other strippers had barely left the room when I approached him, determined to get a double payment too.

“Can I get mine too?” I asked, scanning the bundles of cash. 

“The client said you won't receive any payment until he’s fully satisfied.” He retorted and before I could respond, he pulled out a card with a black rose printed on it and shoved it in my face. “That's all you can get.”

My heart skipped a bit. The black rose. The other past I was trying so hard to run from. It's… it's… Not now, at least. Is the masked man from… No, no, it can't be. 

He sank into the couch, crossing his arms behind his head. “Get the hell out of my sight.”

The words felt like a slap to the face but my eyes narrowed to the left and caught the knife I saw earlier, I returned my eyes to his direction and saw him lost in the money on the table. 

I picked the knife. Swiftly, I got behind him and placed the knife on his neck. 

“If you kill me now, that doesn't guarantee your mother will survive. Choose wisely.” Mr. Donald called gently. 

So, they've been watching me. He knew what was going on in my life. “Pay me right away or die.” I trailed the knife across his neck and his body trembled. 

“Should we… we strike a deal instead?” He asked.

“What deal?” I questioned, my voice stern and cold. 

“I will pay for your mother's treatment and in return, you will follow the masked man.” He answered, closing his eyee.  

Follow the masked man? Do they work together? Hell no! What is he playing at?

My grip on the knife softened before I dropped it. I can't kill anyone. I can't kill anymore. I had better let the past stay in the past. 

I hissed then I kicked the sofa hard before I left the room but not after dropping a warning for him, “First thing tomorrow morning, I want my pay. 

I ran to the dressing room immediately and opened my locker to retrieve the money, at least, that would work as a deposit. But… The cupboard was empty. Nothing was in it except my scrubs. My last hope was gone.

Isn't this the beginning of my ruin?