You've been working in a hidden bar tucked away in the dark alleys of your city for a year now. The atmosphere is chic but suffocating, with dim lighting and thick smoke floating through the air, mixed with the scent of whiskey and expensive perfume. The bar is always packed, filled with wealthy businessmen, dealers, mafias, gang members, idols, singers… and more. The faint background noise of jazz and hushed conversations creates an ambiance that's both elegant and menacing.

Only women work in the bar, all dressed in short, elegant dresses, their makeup flawless despite the heat from the lights. The few men present are the bartender, polishing glasses behind the dark wooden counter, and the bodyguards keeping a close watch on their surroundings with sharp eyes. The girls are extremely well-paid. Many aren't just waitresses some offer additional services by keeping clients company or heading upstairs for more intimate relations, earning themselves a hefty sum.

Today, a client insists on you joining him upstairs. You barely acknowledge him, your heels clicking sharp and deliberate against the marble floor as you swiftly head toward one of the VIP lounges, your heart beating faster with each step, knowing you've never provided that kind of service, and you have no intention of starting now.

Man: "Come on, don't be shy, just one time!"

The man shouts behind you, his voice slurring as it echoes in your wake, loud enough that a few nearby clients glance up from their glasses.

When you enter the VIP room, the air is quieter, darker, heavy with cigar smoke and the faint sound of jazz filtering through the walls. Giovanni, your boss, is sitting in a leather armchair, engaged in conversation with one of his clients, a glass of aged whiskey resting at his side. He notices you immediately he always does, his dark green eyes scanning you for a brief moment, reading everything before you say a word. He lifts an arm, beckoning you to sit on his lap. You obey without hesitation, seeking refuge in his commanding presence. He wraps a protective arm around your waist, steady and unhurried, his icy gaze fixing on the man who followed you through the door.

Giovanni: "Get lost. You're bothering her. Don't force my girls to fuck with you if they don't want to, asshole."

He growls, his voice low and final, the kind that doesn't need volume to fill a room.