Chpater One

I walk backstage of Circuit Night Club where all the dancers are currently in the process of squeezing their asses into their costumes. I do my best to ignore the dirty looks as I walk past the other dancers but it's only so much a girl could take. Still, I reach my vanity and drop my bag with the enthusiasm of a girl walking into a den of hungry wolves.

Hilary is on me before I could get a breath in. She leans against the table, twirling a lock of pretty red hair between her fingers. "You're late."

I roll my eyes. "I'm aware," I mutter. "You know you should get a job as an alarm clock. You're annoying as shit and all you're good at is screaming."

Hilary's lips curl upwards. "You forget I also give good hea—"

"Lalalalala! I didn't hear it!"

She throws back her head and laughs, slapping my hands away from my ears. "Never thought I'd see it... a prude stripper."

I throw her a deadpanned look as I pull out my makeup from my dirty knapsack. "I'm not a prude, I just prefer not to fill every sentence with sexual innuendos. You know, like a normal human being—"

"—Who is a prude," She adds unnecessarily.

"Don't you have a pole that needs warming," I quip.

Hilary narrows her eyes at me the laugh lines still prominent on her cheeks. "I'd be nice to me if I were you. I'm the only friend you've got here."

I roll my eyes and grab my Catholic girl costume from off the rack sighing in relief when it hadn't been tampered with—and when I mean tampered with, I mean cut up in shreds. Yeah, that has happened to me twice now.

I'm not very popular in the backroom of this nightclub.

Everyone besides Garret and Hilary hates my guts and I get it. It doesn't excuse their actions though, but I understand.

They're pissed that I came here only two weeks ago and already I'm booking more private sessions and the place hasn't been this packed since Liam Hemsworth broke down across the street and came in for a phone call.

I tie the last string of my skimpy uniform and turn around. Hilary appraises me and nods her approval. Hilary is like the den mother of the club. She takes care of us girls, makes sure none of the clientele get too handsy with us and the other girls don't knife me in the bathroom when I'm trying to take a piss.

She's been here the longest and so everyone respects her. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. You're booked for a private session, like now."

I give her a blank look. "I thought I'm on the stage tonight."

"Nope. One of your fans wanted a little one-on-one time with you," she wiggled her eyebrows knowingly.

"What?"

"He's here," she whispers.

That's all I needed for the hairs to stand on the nape of my neck. "Are you sure he wanted me... there's a bunch of other—"

"Nope, he called for the Little Bird specifically." My stage name. "And don't think he comes in here for anyone else but you, girl. I know you see the way he looks at you. Like he's hungry. It's fucking hot."

I roll my eyes. "Then why don't you do it then."

"Because he didn't ask for me. A Bloody shame, really." Hilary pouted. "Come on, you better get your ass in there before Garret pops a vein or something. I'll take you, I want to get a good douse of Mr Mystery for when I'm alone tonight."

"You're disgusting."

"And I'm not denying it." She singsong as she yanks me across the floor, through the door separating backstage from the front of the club.

The club is huge, dark and brimming with men throwing ones at the girls on the stage or sneaking a hand up a dancer's thigh. 

Some of the men are staring at me. I could feel it on the back of my neck. How their eyes travel up my figure, lingering on my chest and I don't miss how their eyes widen in shock when it connects with my eyes. I just smirk and sashay away as if I'm used to that reaction. And honestly, I am.

You don't go around with these colour eyes and not be labelled a freak your whole life.

We pass the bar to another part of the club. There are dark cushioned couches facing platforms with dancing poles. Every room is sectioned off for privacy by a stiff black curtain. This is where the private lap dances take place.

I see most of the other rooms are already occupied but Hilary guides me lower into the club reserved for special guests. Meaning only the most wealthy of the patrons use these. And that is strange on its own since we don't get a lot of wealthy clientele in this part of town. They all migrate to Club Cameo up the street, a fancier and more posh club than this one.

We reach the front of the room and she turns to me gripping my shoulders. "Remember if he gets too touchy, I'll get Rico to bust his ass for you. But make sure and pull a few hundies outta him first." She winks and shoves me forward a little.

Then she is gone and I'm left alone to do my job.

I take a slow easy breath, compose myself as best as I can and when I feel like I won't throw up I walk in.

I come to a halt when my eyes fall on him.

He's draped on the couch leisurely, his hands thrown over the seat with his head lulled back almost as if he's asleep. Maybe he is. But that isn't why I'd stopped.

He was. Fucking. Gorgeous.

He's tall—well from what I can gain from his position—and lean. His shoulders and arms are hard and strong as if he spent all his whole life training to be this drool-worthy. His long dark brown hair is tied in a messy bun, the loose strands brushing his pale skin, so clean, that it almost looks like he's glowing. And I wouldn't be surprised if he was.

He couldn't be real, god couldn't be this cruel to put me in the presence of a man such as him. Dressed in a black suit that looked both expensive and sexy on him.

He looks like sin personified.

The power I feel from this man sends goosebumps across my skin and I feel an overwhelming sense of inferiority to him. As if I'm not worthy of being in his presence.

I hear Privacy by Chris Brown fill the room and I know I had to stop ogling the guy like some freak. I walk to him with slow uneven steps. I'm between his knees when the music picks up but he hasn't opened his eyes.

I jump a little when I feel a palm on the back of my thigh. "What are you waiting for?" His voice is smooth and alluring. 

My heart rate picks up. I've never gotten this nervous over a client before. I'm usually, usually confident and well-put-together.

I don't feel well-put-together in his presence at all. I'm disoriented and I don't like it.

Slowly, I sink to my knees, throwing my legs over his muscular thighs on the couch. I lower myself down on him and feel him stiffen under me.

He opens his eyes and my breath hitches. His eyes were the colour of brimstone. A dark chasm of nothingness.

A shiver runs up my spine as our eyes connect.

He cocks his head sideways, the movement reminding me so much of a predator. I feel naked under his gaze. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

I raise an eyebrow nonchalantly despite my heart jack-hammering in my chest. "If that's your best line, I'd have to say G****e is losing its touch."

His lips tilt upwards in a dark smirk. "Men throw themselves at you often, I gather?" I feel his hand slide up and down my outer thigh, drawing irregular shapes with his fingers and an uneasiness churns in my stomach.

I shrugged even though I felt nothing but calm at the moment. Every cell in my body was telling me this man is dangerous but like a dumb twit with a fetish for danger, I stay put. "I'm dancing half-naked in front of them, I'd be concerned if they didn't."

He throws back his head in laughter and I flinch unwittingly. His black eyes shone with amusement. "Are you afraid of me, little bird?"

"No..." I say but quickly add. "But if you try anything I'd pepper spray your ass into a coma. Just so you know."

He snorts. "Claws down, female. I don't intend to harm you. As a matter of fact—" His eyes caught on my chest and I see his eyebrows jump in shock. I know what he was looking at my birthmark. It was an odd one. Unidentifiable swirls and curls decorate the skin below my neck stretching from shoulder to shoulder. It was slightly darker than my skin tone but it was noticeable if you were close enough, and this man had a clear view.

I saw his lips part before his eyes meet mine.

Shock, confusion, and amusement was only a few emotions I found swirling in his dark eyes before a smirk graced his perfect lips. "My, my... This just got a whole lot more interesting."

I cock an eyebrow unsure what he meant. It's just a birthmark. As far as I know, everyone has it... not like mine but...still. "What do you want?"

Something told me he wasn't just here for a lap dance.

"Nice of you to ask, gorgeous but I think I can help you..."

"Yeah, I doubt that." I look to rise from his lap when a firm hand grip my thigh in place. Not too hard but enough I wasn't going anywhere unless he wanted me to. I was going to keep my promise and pepper spray him if he tried anything. I always walk with it on me, hidden in my bra, tucked between my breast.

"I intend to hire you."

My hand paused it's ascend. What?

"Hire me?"

Did I hear him correctly?

"Yes, only if you think you can handle it." His eyes seem to be drilling into my soul, like he's assessing me for something important but I have no idea what that is.

My eyes flick back to his, and I turn his words over a few times in my head. No, this is madness. When a stranger asks if you're interested in a job when you're straddling him in a strip club, it's usually something bad and illegal.

Don't even think about it, Dove.

Get out of here while you still can.

With a new reserve, I gather myself and hop off his lap and surprisingly he lets me.

"Nope, hard pass mister." I tie the string holding up my top tighter. I didn't want to flash the guy when I just rejected him. "I'm not interested in shady shit and since you look like you're not interested in what I am offering, I'll take my leave."

"One million dollars..."

I pause, hesitating before I turn to face him again. "What?"

His smile is smug and I already hate it. "I will give you one million upfront if you agree to my offer."

O—One... One million dollars... shit.

That kind of money could set me out for life.

My fists clench and unclench nervously and I see his eyes flit to it before he brings it to my eyes again. "What kind of offer?" I asked. I can't believe I'm actually considering this.

"All you have to do is take care of a friend of mine for a week."

"Take care? You mean like babysitting?"

I see his tongue flick out to lick his lip and I didn't miss the dark look that came over his eyes before he was back to that smug look again. "Sure, I will hire you to take care of his needs and in return, you will have one million dollars wired to your account by the end of the night."

I couldn't believe this.

I'm getting one million dollars to take care of some brat for a week. Fuck yeah. I'd be psycho to decline. I could finally get out of here. Settle down somewhere far far away from LA. Go to school, maybe open a bakery. I've always wanted to do that since I was a kid.

But there's a question that keeps nagging me in the back of my mind. "Why me?"

He shrugs. "I have a feeling he would like you. All his others were— how did he describe them—Ah yes, I remember, they were ugly and boring."

Wow, this kid's an ass.

But I'd put up with him for one million dollars any day.

And so easily, my mind is made up.

"I accept."

Maybe it's the draft or the coke in the air but a feeling of foreboding settles on my shoulder and prickles the back of my neck but I push it away. This is an amazing opportunity and I'm not going to lose it because I have the chills.

"Um... What do I call you?"

He gets off of the couch and takes a step forward, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "They call me many things but you, dear Dove, may call me Wrath."

Something in that moment clicks, I realise I never gave him my name. But it's too late. I'm surrounded by darkness before a scream could leave my lungs.