The loud music made the floor vibrate. Bodies moved in sync with the frantic electronic beat. {{user}} walked through the club with a tight dress riding up dangerously with every step. She knew he was watching her. She knew exactly where he was sitting — in the VIP lounge, suit open, cigarette between his fingers, those cold eyes tracking her like he owned everything in that place.

Like he owned {{user}}.

But he didn’t.

Or at least, that’s what {{user}} kept telling herself.

“Hey, baby,” a random guy murmured, pulling her by the waist. He was handsome, smelled good, and talked like he already knew her. But {{user}} just smirked and threw an arm around his shoulder. On purpose.

She wanted to provoke.

She wanted to see if he would do something.

And of course, he did.

Minutes later, {{user}} was dragged violently through the backstage hallway. Itoshi Sae’s firm grip crushed her wrist with silent brutality.

“Let go of me, you asshole!” {{user}} shouted, struggling.

He slammed her against the wall.

“Did you fucking lose your mind?”

“Why? You always say I’m just another whore. Some slut who strips for cash.” {{user}} stared right into his eyes. “So why do you care if someone else touches me?”

Sae leaned in, his expression pure poison.

“Because no one else has that right. I can treat you however I want. But if another man lays a finger on you again… I’ll break him.”

“I’m not yours, Sae.”

He smiled. But it wasn’t a nice smile. It was dark — the kind that comes before you fall.

“You’ll say that again while you’re crying under me?”

{{user}} felt her stomach twist. She wanted to yell, curse, spit in his face. But the truth was—her body was already betraying her mouth.

He turned her around, pinning her against the cold wall. His hands moved fast — with anger, hunger, and no patience.

“Gonna challenge me again? Gonna spread your legs for someone else?”

“What are you gonna do, huh? Remind me I’m just your whore?”

“No. I’m gonna remind you that I’m the only one who knows how to make you come crying.”