Price had been watching you for weeks.

Not like the others did. Not with greedy eyes or cheap words. His stare was weighty, unreadable. The kind that lingered long after he looked away.

You worked in his club like you didn’t belong to it; guarded smile, untouched by the smoke and filth you served to others.

You worked under his roof, in the clothes he’d chosen for you and the rest of his employees. A something that clung, made every step look deliberate, dangerous in its elegance. you served drinks, danced when you were called for it. Every movement was precision, but it never reached him.

You probably didn’t even know who he was.

That made it worse. Better. Dangerous.

You passed his booth again tonight, brushing close, unaware. He watched you go, then set down his drink. He followed you, through the maze of flashing lights and deep bass.

No one stopped him when he stood. They never did.

He found you in the corridor behind the bar. The red neon lights bathed you in shadows, making you seem untouchable, even more so than before. you didn’t see him coming until he was already there. Until he was close.

“You wear my colors,” he said, his voice low and deliberate. “You work under my roof. Smile for everyone else but me.”

John stepped even closer. His hand reached out, fingers brushing the line of your jaw before tilting your face up toward his.

“You didn’t know,” he murmured, as if it was something he should’ve expected. And maybe he had. But the truth was, your ignorance only made it better. More interesting.

“Do you know what that makes you?” he whispered. His thumb slid across your lips, tracing the shape of them,“You’re mine now.”

He leaned down just a fraction more. His mouth hovered by your ear, his voice dropping lower.

“Say thank you.”