Chapter 8

Olivia's POV

Stepping into the room, I realized it was dimly lit except for the red light on the stage. “Come with me,” Damon said, and I followed him to the bar while scanning the room, glancing at the Doms and subs already seated, waiting for the play to begin.

Damon led me to the bar stand and introduced me to the bar lady from whom I would be taking drinks. We exchanged greetings before Damon gestured for me to go stand in a corner.

“Be careful, don't stare at them in the eyes. If you do, they will think you are trying to identify who they are, and that's not good,” he warned. I nodded, having no business knowing who they were.

Taking a deep breath, I walked in the direction he pointed and took my position.

“You,” a masked DOM signaled to me, and I hurriedly made my way towards him. “You are new here?” he asked, and I nodded.

“Yes, sir. My post is normally at bar stand three,” I replied politely, and he nodded.

“I see,” he said, running a quick gaze over me, which I found uncomfortable, but I composed myself and put on a smiling face. “What can I get you, sir?”

“A glass of cocktail,” he responded, and I nodded. “I will be back shortly.”

I went to the bar and prepared the cocktail he requested before making my way back to him. “Here it is,” I said, placing the drink on the table beside him.

“I also need something else,” he said, and I waited for him to make his order, but instead, he gawked at my exposed thighs. “I want you. How much for the night?”

I formed a fake smile and made sure I sounded as polite as I could. “Apologies, sir, but I'm not a submissive.”

He frowned, and I knew he wanted to say more but decided to let it slide.

“Here's my card,” he said, reluctantly giving me his card with his left hand while his right hand caressed the hair of a submissive who had been glaring at me while the DOM talked to me.

I swiped the card on the machine, returned it to him, and went back to my position.

Out of curiosity, my eyes went to the stage, where I noticed two masked men engaging in sexual play with a sub. She was giving one of the masked men a blow job while the other was fucking her from behind. Moans filled the dimly lit room, and I glanced around the playroom. All the dominants were masked and focused on the people on the stage.

I gawked at them and wondered if they were so proud of what they were doing, then why were they hiding their faces from us.

As I glanced around, my eyes met with him, Enzo, the man who had been responsible for my nightmares. He was seated in an armchair while a familiar sub was seated on his lap. As our eyes interlocked, I felt a rush of emotions bubbling inside me—pain, anger, but also something else, something like jealousy, and I couldn’t explain why I felt jealous.

“Excuse me,” a DOM called my attention, and I had to break eye contact with Enzo. Moving over to the masked DOM, I bowed.

“A glass of whiskey with two ice cubes,” he spoke in a rough, dominant tone.

I faked a smile at him and noticed he had no submissive with him, but his zipper was down, and his dick was out as he gently stroked it.

“Do you have anything to say?” he glared directly at me, and I shook my head.

“Not really,” I said, turning around to walk away, but he stopped me.

With nervous gulp, I turned around and avoided his gaze.

“Add more ice to it,” he added before returning his attention to the performance.

I breathed in relief and rushed to the bar stand. I poured the drink he demanded and walked back to his seat. He took the drink from me and took a sip with his eyes glued to the play.

“Here,” he said, taking out some dollars from his wallet and handing them over to me. “Keep the change,” he added, his eyes still glued to the play.

Going back to my spot, my eyes met with Enzo’s, and I eyed him before looking away. I hated the fact that my parents’ killer was right before me, and I couldn’t do anything to get justice for them. I felt so helpless and useless.

Throughout the play, I served sex-hungry Doms, almost all of whom offered to have sex with me, but my answer remained no. After the play, the Doms began leaving one after the other while we stood at our spots, bidding them goodnight.

The hall was almost empty, and again my eyes fell on Enzo. He was talking to two masked men, who suddenly bowed respectfully to him, making my brow furrow. Who could he be that those Doms were respectfully bowing to him? Swallowing nervously, I kept staring at them and realized they bowed again, this time so low that I feared their heads would fall off. My curiosity piqued, and I wondered who he could be—probably an alpha, a high-ranking politician, or maybe a mafia lord.

Gulping nervously, I looked away and made sure not to look his way, but I was unlucky because I noticed him approaching me.

When he reached where I stood, he locked eyes with me. “Ten thousand dollars,” he muttered, while I raised a confused brow at him.

“Let me have you for a night, and that money will be all yours,” he declared, and I frowned. No amount on earth would make me give my virginity to my parents’ killer.

“What do you say?” he smirked, while my frown deepened. No matter how desperate I was for money to pay off my debts, I would never let him touch me, let alone fuck me.

“My answer still remains no,” I muttered firmly and saw him raise a brow as his eyes twitched. I must have shocked him with my rejection.

“Do you have a mate?” he asked, glancing at the crook of my neck, probably checking for any mate mark on me. “You are mateless, so why are you refusing my offer?”

“Because I don’t want to,” I stated firmly and made my way to leave, but he stopped me by holding my wrist.

“You can refuse all you want, but know this—I will have you, no matter what,” he whispered menacingly, sending a chill down my spine.