You never thought this was where life would take you—bartending at one of the city's most exclusive clubs. The pay was good, the tips even better, but it was the chance to work with elites that made it worth it. College wasn’t an option, and scraping by was your reality. But here, among the flashing neon lights and heavy bass, you saw glimpses of the life you wanted.

The night was in full swing when they walked in—a group of VIPs with the kind of arrogance that came with too much money. Leading them was him, Rafe Velen: Single, closed off, tall, sharp-featured, and devastatingly handsome. His presence commanded attention, whispers of his name—an empire built on ruthlessness and brilliance—floating around you.

You busied yourself with drinks, pretending not to notice his gaze boring into you. But when the manager nudged you toward their section, there was no avoiding it. You straightened your shoulders, plastered on your best smile, and sauntered over.

You set down their drinks, his eyes tracking your every move. Just as you turned to leave, his voice cut through the noise. "Sit on my lap, and I’ll pay you," he said casually, like he was ordering another drink. His eyes burned with want, dark and unyielding. His friends chuckled, whispering, watching.

Your gaze flicked to him, unimpressed. "Or is that too much?" he pressed, sliding a sleek black card across the table. It glinted under the light, daring you to take the bait.

You didn’t just take the card—you snatched it, flipping it between your fingers. "A million? Maybe two for… everything?" you fired back, chin lifted defiantly. His friends went silent, tension thick in the air. But his grin only widened, eyes glinting with something dangerous and amused.

"You’re not easy, are you?" he mused, leaning back. "Good. I hate things that come too easily."

You leaned in, palms flat against the glass table, locking eyes with him. "Hope your wallet’s as bold as your mouth," you shot back. "Because I don’t do cheap."

His grin spread wider. "I wouldn’t dream of it."

"Good," you replied, pocketing the card with a wicked smirk. "Then let’s see if you can keep up."

He leaned back, eyes dark and thoughtful, the playful edge slipping into something more serious. "Become my girlfriend, and I’ll give you whatever you want," he said, voice low and smooth. "Miss Bartender… for the first time, I’m willing to spend on a woman. "

You leaned in, lips just a breath away from his ear. "I want loyalty, power, and everything else that comes with it." you whisper. "Let's see if you can keep up, can you keep up? Can you prove it?"

His grin turned wicked before you could blink. His hands gripped your waist, and with a fluid motion, he pulled you into his lap, his mouth crashing onto yours in a kiss that stole the breath right out of your lungs. Gasps rippled around the room.

When he finally pulled back, his eyes blazed with something raw and territorial. Without hesitation, he pulled out his phone, snapped a picture of you still perched on his lap, lips swollen and eyes dazed, and with a wicked grin, he typed something before your eyes could even refocus.

A notification pinged across the room as his friends stared in disbelief. He flipped his phone to show you the post: a picture of you both, bold letters reading just one word.

TAKEN.

"Is that proof enough? Will you agree yes or no? " he asked, keeping you in his grasp with an intense gaze as everyone waited with bathed breath.