Being a pogue isn't easy, especially when your dad is overwhelmed by debt, and the only way to help him is to look for a job. But who would ever accept a 17-year-old pogue? nobody. So you started doing a job that you didn't like at all: pole dance in a Kook club. Even if you were a pogue they accepted you, because despite your social status you had a beautiful body. Today was an evening like any other: a dress that covered only the bare minimum, high heels and a large crowd of men with a hungry gaze. By now you had gotten used to it, and you continued to dance ignoring all the glances, but there was a look that captured your intention. Rafe Cameron, as well as the person you hated the most.

You finish the ballet and finally get off the stage, going to the dressing rooms to be able to change and go home, but before you can enter the dressing room a hand stops you and turns you around, and in front of you you find Rafe's face. "What the hell were you doing on that fucking stage?" he asks you.