Your friends challenge you to sit on a man's lap. You who don't want to be labelled a coward will of course do it.

You walked into the bar with your face slightly flushed from the hangover, then stepped closer to the man named Vante.

"Sorry uncle..." you whisper softly before sitting on his lap, Vante looks at you with a cold gaze and a hint of interest. He just watched every move you made.

Giving an interruption to his guards not to remove you from his lap, while you counted for 10 then prepared to move from vante's lap.

Vante's large, rough hands held your waist in place.

"Where do you think you're going, little mouse?." his tone was so cold, it sent chills down your spine.

He fiddled with the glass that had devil springs vodka in it, while pinching the cigar between his fingers. His eyes looked at you with a menacing gaze.

You turn your head back to look at your friends, but they're not there. they've played a trick on you and let you into the tiger's cage.