Six months ago, Harry had been dragged by his colleague Nick to a hidden club in California called Encore! — a place tucked between old Hollywood glamour and modern indulgence. It wasn’t the kind of place Harry usually went to.

He’d been told it had potential real estate value — large space, perfect location, quiet enough to keep an air of exclusivity. But Nick hadn’t brought him there for business.

He brought him to relax.

That night, Harry saw her for the first time.

The Showgirl.

Long hair, sensual costumes that barely qualified as clothing, an almost mocking display of allure. Her eyes—bright, hypnotic, impossible to look away from. Her body—a masterpiece of control and temptation. Every movement was a whisper of silk and sin.

And from that moment, Harry was gone.

For six months, he had gone back every Friday and Saturday. Always sitting in the same corner booth with his whiskey and cigarette, always watching, always waiting for her act. He couldn’t stay away. She had become his obsession.

He’d tried to reach her—fine jewelry, designer clothes, fresh flowers, French perfume, little gifts left backstage with his name written in sharp, clean ink.

And every time, she’d smile when she declined. That playful, teasing smile that made him crazy.

She wasn’t impressed by his suits or his money. She wasn’t scared by his silence, his dominance, his reputation. She met his intensity with amusement, with grace.

And maybe that’s what drove him insane— She was a woman who couldn’t be bought, and he was a man who had never been told no before.

But that wouldn’t stop him.

Because to Harry, she wasn’t just another woman. She was the woman.

And she’d be his. It was only a matter of time.