Проклятие Черного Аспида

(POV Anna)

The bass pounded through my body, a relentless, pulsing beat that made it impossible to think. Club Lux wasn’t just loud; it was deafening. Every thrum of music vibrated through my bones, the sound rattling in my head like it was trying to shake loose my sanity. The strobe lights—blue, gold, and sharp enough to cut—flashed across the glossy black floors, and the whole place reeked of wealth and indulgence. Polished leather booths, a mile-long bar glowing like liquid silver, and patrons draped in designer everything. This wasn’t my world, not even close.

But for the right paycheck, I was willing to survive in it.

“Table four, Anna! Move your ass!”

I bit the inside of my cheek and adjusted the tray of drinks balanced on my arm. Callie’s shrill voice grated like nails on a chalkboard, but I kept my face neutral. No use arguing. I had bigger problems than her. Lily’s medical bills weren’t going to pay themselves.

“On it,” I muttered, more to myself than to her.

Weaving through the packed dance floor, I dodged swaying bodies and groping hands, trying to ignore the sheer chaos around me. The air was heavy with perfume, sweat, and desperation—a cloying mix that clung to my skin. My heels clicked against the glossy floor, and I hated how loud they sounded.

As I reached table four, I took a deep breath, plastering on the same polite, empty smile I’d been practicing for months. A group of men in suits greeted me with lazy grins. They were already drunk, laughing too loudly, their eyes glossy with alcohol and entitlement.

“Your drinks,” I said, keeping my voice as bright as I could.

One of them—a balding guy with a Rolex that screamed compensating for something—grabbed my wrist as I set the tray down.

“Not so fast, sweetheart,” he slurred, his grip firm enough to make my skin crawl.

My stomach churned, but I didn’t let it show. “Yes?” I said, keeping my voice steady, though it felt like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

He smirked, his friends chuckling like a pack of jackals. “What’s the rush? Sit with us for a bit.”

I tugged my wrist, but he didn’t let go. Not again. Just stay calm. “I can’t,” I said firmly. “I’m working.”

“C’mon, we won’t tell,” he said, giving my wrist a tug that made my heart hammer. His friends howled with laughter.

Before I could snap at him, Callie’s voice cut through the noise. “Anna! Move it!”

The man finally let me go, his smirk widening like he thought he’d done me a favor. My pulse thudded in my ears as I walked away, forcing myself to keep my pace steady.

At the bar, I set the tray down harder than I meant to, the glasses rattling against the surface. My hands trembled slightly, but I curled them into fists to stop the shaking. My reflection caught my eye in the mirror behind the bar, and I barely recognized myself.

Dark brown eyes ringed with smudged eyeliner stared back at me, tired and hollow. My ponytail was coming loose, stray strands curling against my damp neck. The black uniform dress they made me wear hugged my body like shrink-wrap, riding up my thighs every time I moved. I looked like I belonged here, but I didn’t.

It’s just a job, Anna, I told myself. A means to an end. For Lily.

The thought of my daughter was enough to steady me. Lily—my sweet, brave little girl—was all that mattered. Her big brown eyes and gap-toothed smile had the power to make even the worst days feel worth it. But I couldn’t think about her too much. Not here. Not now.

A loud laugh dragged me back to reality. I turned and saw another table of men waving me over, their eyes glassy and predatory. My stomach twisted, but I grabbed the tray and forced my feet to move.

“Hey, sweetheart!” one of them called as I approached. He patted the empty seat next to him, his gold chain glinting under the lights. “Sit down and join us.”

I kept my smile in place. “What can I get you, gentlemen?”

“Gentlemen,” he repeated, laughing like I’d just told the funniest joke of the night.

“Your number,” one of them said, leaning forward with a leer.

I didn’t even blink. “Sorry, but I don’t mix work with pleasure.”

Gold Chain smirked, his eyes dragging over me like I was something he was thinking about buying. “Pleasure? Who said anything about that? We’re just talking.”

His hand darted out, brushing against my hip, and every muscle in my body went rigid.

Don’t react. Don’t react.

“Keep your hands to yourself,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended.

Gold Chain’s smirk faltered for a second, but then he laughed, leaning back in his chair. “Feisty. I like that.”

“Another round?” I asked, desperate to end the conversation.

“Yeah, bring us another round. And next time, lose the attitude.”

I turned before they could say anything else, my nails digging into the tray so hard I thought I’d snap it in half.

When I reached the bar, Callie was waiting for me, her arms crossed and her expression sour.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded, glaring at me like I’d just insulted her mother.

“What was what?”

“Gold Chain over there. He’s a regular, and you just pissed him off.”

My jaw tightened. “He grabbed me—”

“I don’t care,” she snapped, cutting me off. “Smile, laugh, let them flirt. Whatever it takes to keep them happy. Do your damn job.”

I clenched my teeth so hard it hurt. “Got it,” I said through gritted teeth.

She stormed off, her heels clicking against the floor, and I turned back to the bar. The bartender, a younger guy with kind eyes, slid the drinks onto my tray and gave me a sympathetic look.

“You good?” he asked softly.

I nodded, though it was a lie, and headed back to the table.

The rest of the night blurred into a miserable haze. By the time the crowd started to thin, my feet ached so badly I was sure I’d find blisters the size of quarters when I got home. My head throbbed, and the thought of peeling off this dress was the only thing keeping me going.

But just as I was about to take my last tray of empty glasses to the back, Callie’s voice rang out again.

“VIP table just walked in. You’re up.”

My heart sank. The VIP section was the worst. Tucked away behind velvet ropes, it was reserved for the wealthiest—and the most entitled—clients. The tips were good, but the clientele was unbearable.

I grabbed a fresh tray and headed to the VIP area, forcing my face into the same neutral smile I’d been wearing all night. As I approached the table, I took a quick breath to steel myself, but when I looked up, the air rushed out of my lungs.

Sitting in the center of the booth, one arm draped casually along the backrest, was Dominic Moretti.

My ex.

My past.

The man I had left behind five years ago, thinking I’d never see him again.

He looked sharper now, harder. His black hair was slicked back, and his piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, freezing me in place. His suit was tailored to perfection, clinging to his broad shoulders and lean frame like it was part of him. He looked like he owned the world, and the slow, predatory smile curving his lips told me he knew it.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice smooth as silk and twice as dangerous. “Look who decided to walk back into my world.”

His voice is the same. Silky. Melting everything inside me as it brings out the deepest and darkest emotions out of me. But they don't hold the same warmth anymore. 

Neither does his gaze. It seems captive but calculating. Every move of his seems like a predetor is eyeing his prey.

The tray in my hands trembled, and I tightened my grip, my heart racing so fast it hurt.

I couldn’t breathe.

I couldn’t move.

And just like that, the walls I had built so carefully around my life began to crumble.