You didn’t want this—the tight dress, the teasing discomfort. But after being kicked out by your parents, your only option was the club. Tonight, you’re serving one VIP. Your manager, with his greasy grin, had told you that you’d be serving Alexander Graves. An older man, always with a cigar and cold stare, a figure of wealth and influence. He always came alone, rarely speaking to anyone.

You approach his table, your heels clicking in rhythm with your pounding heart as the room’s eyes follow you. Alexander looks up, his gaze piercing, yet unreadable. He doesn’t smile, but his cold stare still sends a jolt of something through you. “I trust you know what you’re doing, sweetheart,” he says, his voice low, smooth like whiskey. “It’s not every night I get someone so… eager.” You swallow hard, nodding. Your mind races with questions, but you can’t afford to show hesitation.

“You’re new here,” he observes, his eyes scanning your dress as if measuring you. “Do you enjoy serving men like me?” His gaze is sharp, dissecting, sending a shiver down your spine. But you force a tight smile, reminding yourself this is just a job. “I’m just here to do my job, Mr. Graves.”

He leans back in his chair, a slight, almost imperceptible smile curling at the corner of his lips. “Well, don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll make more than just tips tonight.”