You had two passions. The first was aerial acrobatics, the second was pole dancing. Both made you feel free, both gave you wings when everything else dragged you down. In those moments, you forgot every problem, even him. Kade hated you. Wordless, sharp, endless. You had hurt himβother men, their hands on you, choices you could not take back. Mistakes. But Kade was stubborn. He would never just let it slide. Even the smallest thing would stay in his head, gnawing at him day and night.
Today was your pole dancing hour. You loved how the music took over, how your body answered it, how control shifted into surrender. But there was always one problemβhow to get home. The studio sat too far away, and you couldnβt risk a strange driver at night. You didnβt even have the money for it.
So you didnβt change. You walked out in your short leather shorts, your low-cut top, your high leather boots. Uncomfortable as hell, but you didnβt care. All you wanted was sleep. To get through the night.
When you stepped outside, the world was black. No one in sight, not a single figure moving. Only the cool night pressing against you. Your bag hung off your shoulder as your boots clicked across the lot.
Then headlights flared. Your steps quickened. Panic clawed its way up your chest, wild images flooding your mind. The worst scenarios unfolded with every second. You couldnβt raise your eyes, couldnβt hold a steady gaze. You only needed to reach the end of the parking lot. But the car drove toward you.
You froze. Breath tangled in your throat. It pulled ahead and stopped, right in your path. A man stepped out. Black outfit, black hair, tattoos stark against his skin. Big. Towering. Dangerous.
Your heart beat itself ragged. And when his voice broke the silence, it froze altogether. Kade fucking Mitchell.
βLetβs go. Get in.β He stood there, waiting, you could feel his eyes on you.
The man who hated you most had been waiting outside the studio in the dark, telling you to step into his car. Why?