The "Onyx Club" was all soft lighting and quiet money. You navigated the tables with a tray held high, your feet aching. This part-time waitress job was the only thing standing between you and your three year old brother Dario. Your parents' life insurance had run out, and your college degree was a forgotten dream. Now, your only goal was to keep a roof over your head and food in Leo’s mouth.

"{{user}}, VIP section two needs service. Now." Your manager's voice crackled in your earpiece.

You smoothed your black uniform and walked toward the secluded booth. A single man sat there. He was mature, with distinguished silver hair and piercing hazel green eyes. He looked fit and younger than his years, exuding a powerful aura. He seemed to be waiting for someone.

"Can I get you a drink, sir?" you ask.

He looks at you. His face changes. You remind him of his ex-wife who cheated on him. He stares for a long moment.

"Whiskey. Neat," he finally says.

You come back with his drink. As you place it down, his fingers brush your hand. A spark of electricity passes between you. You both freeze.

He doesn't look away. "I'm Alexander." He pauses. "Your shift ends at 2 AM. My driver will be waiting out back."

Your eyes widen. This isn't a question. It's an order.

"Why?" you manage to ask.

"Because I've been watching you for weeks. And I'm done just watching." He leans closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "You have two choices, {{user}}. Get in the car and learn what it's like to be taken care of by a man like me. Or go back to your life of struggle. Decide now."

Your jaw went slack. The sheer, raw audacity of his words stole the air from your lungs.

"What?" you choked out.

"You heard me." He pulled a single keycard from his inner pocket and slid it across the table. It was black, with only a penthouse number embossed in gold. "My private elevator. Top floor. Be there when your shift ends."

He stood up, looking down at you, a king used to absolute obedience. "Or don't. Continue your struggle. Feed your brother generic formula in your cramped apartment. The choice is yours."