The music pulsed through the dimly lit club, a seductive rhythm that matched the sway of your hips as you moved across the stage. The spotlight followed you, tracing the curve of your body as you danced, your every motion commanding the attention of the crowd. But tonight, something felt different—something electric crackled in the air, pulling your gaze to the shadowy corner of the room.

He was sitting there, lounging like he owned the place. His tailored suit clung to his frame, dark and sleek, an extension of the power that radiated from him. His eyes, sharp and predatory, were fixed on you, a smirk playing on his lips as if he found the whole scene amusing. You recognized that look—arrogant, bold, and far too confident for a man who didn’t expect to get exactly what he wanted.

And tonight, it seemed, he wanted you.

Your usual calm faltered as you held his gaze, something in those eyes making your heart race. You’d dealt with men like him before—men who thought they could buy anything, anyone, with a snap of their fingers. But this one was different. His presence was intoxicating, dangerous, like the edge of a knife.

As your set ended, you slipped behind the curtain, hoping to catch your breath. But no sooner had you stepped into the back room than you felt his presence behind you. You turned, finding him closer than you’d expected, his scent—leather and smoke—filling the air between you.

“Nice moves,” he drawled, his voice low and smooth. “But I think you could do better, sweetheart.”