Chapter 1

A New Beginning

The first few weeks at Luxe Escorting were like a blur, like the world was moving too fast for me to catch up. I had signed up, desperate for anything to break the suffocating grip of my past, and Luxe seemed like my only lifeline. At first, I had no idea what I was walking into. But now, after working here for years, I understood one thing: my life had changed in ways I never thought possible.

It was a Friday evening, and I was sitting in front of the full-length body mirror in my small but cozy apartment, adjusting the hem of my black dress. The apartment was a far cry from the prison cell I had spent five years in. It was mine, with my own furniture, my own space in the heart of Oklahoma city. I’d worked hard to get it, scraping together every penny from my job at Luxe. The apartment was modest, located in a part of the city where the rent was affordable, but it was mine, and that was all that mattered.

I ran my fingers through my hair, pulling it back into a sleek ponytail before slipping on my favorite heels. The glass of water on my bedside table caught my eye, reminding me that I hadn’t had dinner. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to eat tonight anyway. I had a client to meet.

"Here goes another night," I murmured to myself, my reflection offering a steady, composed look that didn't quite match the churn of my stomach.

My life had been a whirlwind of strange, sometimes conflicting emotions since I’d stepped into the world of high-end escorting. It wasn’t something I’d ever imagined for myself, but it had become my reality.

I walked into Luxe that evening, greeted by the same polished reception area. The glass walls reflected my image, the lights in the space glinting off the black marble floors. Luxe had been a strange mix of luxury and necessity for me. The clients were wealthy and demanding, but they paid well, very well. It wasn’t just money, it was the power they held in their hands, the way they could alter your life with a single gesture or look.

"Hello, Eli," came the familiar voice of Jane, the head of Luxe, as she sat behind her desk, her gaze sharp and assessing as always. She looked up from her tablet as I walked in. "How are you tonight?"

I offered her a small smile, forcing myself to look confident. "Good. Ready for tonight."

She nodded, her lips curling into a small, almost imperceptible smile. "You have a new client tonight. He's asking for something different, a bit more… exclusive."

I raised an eyebrow. "Exclusive? What does that mean exactly?"

Jane paused, scanning her tablet once more before looking at me. "It means he wants you to be… intimate with him, but don’t worry. Intimate in a way that doesn’t necessarily involve sex. He’s more about the emotional connection, so as long as you’re able to make him feel understood and seen, that’s enough. I know your limits, Eli. He's a regular, and he's requested you specifically. His name is Marcus Thompson. You know the drill, right? Be professional."

"Of course," I said, though the fluttering anxiety in my stomach didn’t quite match my casual response.

By the time I was ready for my appointment, I had slipped into my role without thinking. I’d done this enough times that it was second nature now. Every part of me, from my smile to my movements, had been honed into something that would please the clients, something they would pay for.

Marcus Thompson was waiting for me in one of the most extravagant suites of Luxe. It wasn’t hard to tell that he had money, his clothes were pristine, his watch worth more than my rent, and his air of entitlement was something I’d come to know all too well.

“Eli,” he greeted me with a smile that barely touched his eyes. “You look stunning as always.”

“Thank you,” I replied, offering a smile in return, though it didn’t quite reach my own eyes. I knew what he wanted, but I wasn’t here for anything more than the paycheck to suffice for my daily needs.

That was the cycle of my life for the next several years, client after client, event after event. Luxe was my escape from the harsh reality of my past, the world that had abandoned me. At Luxe, I could be whoever they needed me to be, and in return, they gave me money, status, and a place in their world that no one, or even the world could offer me.

I met a number of interesting people during my time at Luxe. Some of them were clients, others were colleagues who became my friends, though friendships here were often delicate. People came and went, some left with hearts broken, others with empty wallets.

One friend, in particular, stood out among the rest. Her name was Rose, a former lawyer who had turned to escorting after a scandal at her firm. Rose was tough, witty, and sharp, a woman who didn’t take any crap from anyone. She was also one of the few people who had come to care about me, the woman behind the escort.

“I’m telling you, Eli,” she said one evening as we sipped wine in the little café we frequented on our nights off, “we need to go out and live a little. You spend too much time locked up in that apartment. You’ve earned it, girl.”

I smiled, a little unsure, as I played with the edge of my glass. “I’ve got the clients, I’ve got the money. That’s all I need. I don’t need to go out and make myself visible.”

Rose rolled her eyes. “You’re not a prisoner anymore, Eli. Live a little. I’ll take you to one of the clubs tonight. You need a change of pace.”

I hesitated. “What? Rosa, are you kidding me? A club? Isn’t that too… risky?”

She laughed. “Calm down your ass, missy. Please. It’s just a night out. Don’t be so uptight.”

“No,” I replied firmly.

“Stop being a killjoy, will you? We have to enjoy sometimes. It’s alright, I got you. You don’t need to worry about anything else. It’s not as if you have a husband or a boyfriend who’ll get mad at you for going to a club,” she chuckled.

I rolled my eyes. “It’s not that. I am just concerned about the management. Will they allow us? Won’t they get mad for that?”

“No, don’t worry. Loosen up, Eli.  It’s just one night.”

So, a few nights later, I found myself standing outside The Ember, which is one of the hottest clubs in the Bricktown. The bright lights shone in every direction, the pulsing beat of the music vibrating through my chest even before I stepped inside. I was dressed casually, just jeans and a backless top, but it still felt like I was entering another world. A world where people were free, where they could dance and laugh without the weight of their pasts on their shoulders.

Rose grabbed my hand, pulling me toward the entrance. “Come on, Eli. Let’s have some fun.”

Once inside, it didn’t take long before I felt the weight of eyes on me. It was different from the way I was looked at by my clients. Here, people were intrigued, curious but not demanding. It was a strange feeling, one that made me feel both nervous and excited.

I made my way to the bar, ordering a drink to steady my nerves. The glass was cool in my hand, and I wrapped my fingers around it, trying to distract myself from the unsettling tension that had followed me into the club. As I leaned against it, scanning the crowd, I felt a shift in the atmosphere as I caught sight of someone. A presence, subtle yet undeniable, tugged at my senses.

I turned slightly to the side and caught sight of him. He was standing at the edge of the dance floor, his dark eyes scanning the room with a quiet intensity. His gaze was sweeping across the crowd, as though he was searching for something, or someone, should I say? But there was something in the way his eyes moved, something sharp, that caught mine. It was like a silent connection, an invisible thread pulling me toward him.

He was tall, easily over six feet, and his frame was solid, built with the kind of strength that didn’t scream for attention but demanded it anyway. The fitted black Tom Ford suit he wore was immaculate, tailored to perfection. It clung to his broad shoulders, outlining the strength in his chest and arms. His dark hair was neatly styled, and his jawline was sharp, like it has been carved from stone. There was something about him that screamed power, like he belonged in a place far more exclusive than The Ember, a high-end club that catered to people like me, but never someone like him.

His eyes, dark and intense, locked onto mine, and in that split second, everything around me seemed to fade into the background. There was no noise from the club, no music pulsing through the speakers, just his gaze cutting through the air between us, searching, almost predatory. My breath caught in my throat, and I instinctively took a step back, though I couldn't look away.

God, what is he doing?

He was watching me, or no… he’s studying me with a focus that sent an unexpected chill down my spine. His lips were slightly pursed, not in a smile, but in something far more calculating. He wasn’t here by accident. He was here with purpose.

His physique was commanding, and as he moved toward the bar, his gait was measured, purposeful. Each step he took seemed to assert his presence in the room, drawing eyes to him. There was a certain grace to his movements, as though he was used to being the center of attention without needing to demand it. The sleek suit he wore only amplified the effect, emphasizing his tall, lean frame, and the muscles beneath that suited his broad shoulders and tapered waist. His presence wasn’t just seen, it was felt.

I swallowed hard, trying to regain control over my pulse, which had suddenly quickened. Okay, this is now getting weird. Why is he looking at me like that? Do I have a dirt on my face?

I quickly glanced away, pretending to focus on the edge of my drink, but the weight of his stare lingered, burning into me like an unanswered question. I couldn’t shake the feeling that this wasn’t just some random encounter, that his attention on me had purpose behind it, something I couldn’t quite place.

But as I tried to distract myself, I caught sight of him moving toward the bar, closer now. The way he walked confident, yet not brash told me that he knew exactly what he was doing. He wasn’t here for the noise or the crowds. He was here for something more, and I had the uneasy feeling it was something to do with me.

Okay… it’s not that I’m being assuming or not, but it’s the only possible way I could think of!

I glanced up just as he reached the bar, his gaze never leaving me, and my heart skipped a beat. His eyes were dark, but there was a flicker of something deeper, a hint of something almost like recognition, though I was sure I had never met him before. I couldn’t decide if the look in his eyes was curiosity or calculation. Either way, it made me feel exposed, like he could see right through the carefully constructed walls I had built around myself.

He stopped just a few feet away from me, his posture relaxed but purposeful, his hand sliding into the pocket of his pants as he stood tall and commanding. The dim lighting of the club reflected off the sharp edges of his suit, making him appear even more striking.

Then, he spoke, his voice low and smooth, carrying just a hint of an accent I couldn’t place. "You’re new here, aren’t you?"

Uh, what?

I froze for a moment, taken aback by his words, by the directness in his tone. A part of me wanted to look away, to break the connection, but I couldn't. Something about him held me in place. Something deeper than just his looks or the way he filled the space around him. He was like a fucking magnetic force.

"Uh… I’m not new," I replied, my voice betraying the calm I was trying to maintain. I took a sip of my drink, needing the action to ground myself. “I’ve been around a while.”

He studied me, his eyes flicking over me in a way that was both assessing and... intrigued. “Is that so? I don’t believe I’ve seen you here before.”

I could feel my pulse racing again, that sense of unease creeping back. This was no casual conversation. He was interested in me in a way I could not identify, and it’s weird, but it’s not just in the way that most of the clients I met in The Ember were. There was something more.

“Maybe you haven’t looked closely enough,” I said with a small, forced smile, trying to keep my voice steady despite the flurry of thoughts running through my mind.

His lips twitched, the smallest hint of a smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Those dark eyes stayed locked on mine as if searching for something. For a long moment, he didn’t say anything, just stared at me, as though he was waiting for me to reveal something more than what I had shown. My skin prickled under his gaze.

“I’m Ryder,” he finally said, extending his hand in a slow, deliberate gesture. “And you are?”

I hesitated before shaking his hand, feeling the firmness of his grip, the power in his fingers.

“Uhm, I am Eli,” I answered quietly.

The name felt too small in comparison to his presence, but I was stuck in this moment, unable to break away. Ryder didn’t let go of my hand immediately. He held it for just a second longer than necessary, as if savoring the contact before releasing it.

“You’re different,” he said softly, more to himself than to me. The words, however, felt like a heavy weight hanging between us. “I can tell,” he added.

The curiosity in his voice sent another jolt of uncertainty through me. What did he mean by different? Did he see through the walls I had built so carefully?

“Different?” I asked, keeping my tone even, though I could feel the heat rise to my cheeks.

He shrugged, not offering an immediate explanation. “There’s something about you. Something... intriguing, I guess?”

Before I could respond, he turned away, his attention shifting to a group of people entering the club. But not before his gaze lingered on me for just a second longer, as if he were imprinting my image in his memory.

As he walked away, I couldn’t shake the feeling that this was no ordinary encounter. The way he looked at me, the way he saw me, had made me feel like I was more than just another woman in this crowd, more than just a hired companion for the night. But what did he really want from me?

A voice inside me warned that I had just stepped into something far deeper than I was prepared for. But no matter how much I tried to push it away, that same voice kept whispering in my mind. 

He’s not just anyone. Ryder is trouble. And somehow, deep down, I couldn’t ignore the pull I felt toward him.

It wasn’t just the way he looked at me. It was the way he studied me, like he knew me, like he had seen me before. And maybe, in some twisted way, he had. I couldn’t remember ever meeting him, but I knew that face. I knew that gaze. For a brief second, I felt my heart skip a beat. My fingers tightened around my drink as I looked away, trying to brush off the unease that had settled in my stomach. I didn’t need this tonight. I didn’t need to deal with anyone from my past, if ever he indeed know or if he’s just plainly interested in me.

Hours passed, and I couldn’t shake the feeling that Ryder’s presence loomed over me, even as I danced with Rose, even as I tried to enjoy myself. I kept glancing back toward the edge of the dance floor, but he was gone. It was as if he had disappeared into the crowd, leaving only that lingering feeling of discomfort behind.

When the night was over, and I was back at my apartment, I found myself replaying the encounter in my head over and over. Who was he? Why did he seem so familiar?

And more importantly, why did I feel like I had just stepped into something I couldn’t escape?

As I lay in bed that night, staring up at the ceiling, I had a strange feeling that my life was about to change again. But this time, I wasn’t sure if it was for the better, or if it was going to be worse than anything I’d faced before.