Chapter 3 Untitled Chapter
The next night, the guy from the alley was nowhere to be found.
Carmella stood behind the stage curtain, her eyes scanning the front row seats where the rich men usually sat. The chair where he'd sat last night was empty. She smirked and adjusted her outfit. Good riddance.
When the lights dimmed and the bass pulsed , Carmella walked onto the stage.
The crowd cheered, hands reaching toward the platform like they always did, but her eyes instinctively drifted toward the back of the room.
Far past the front tables, in the dark corners where the colorful spotlights couldn't reach, a figure sat alone at a leather booth.
Carmella froze mid-step. She couldn't see his face just the broad silhouette of a man in a tailored suit, resting his arms over the leather seat like he owned the place. Even in total darkness, he radiated an intense, suffocating presence. He sat there, watching her like a predator studying its prey.
A chill ran down her spine. She'd learned to read rooms in this place the loud ones in the front were just boys and men with money. But the men who stayed in the dark at the very back? Those were the ones tied to the families. The ones who made people disappear.
Everything in her gut told her to look away. To ignore him and just do her job.
Instead, her stubbornness took over.
If this powerful stranger thinks he can sit here and act indifferent, I'll prove him wrong.
Carmella gripped the pole. Threw her head back. Let her hips move to the beat. She locked her eyes on the silhouette in the back. Every ounce of her body demanding his attention.
She climbed the pole effortlessly, spinning slowly before sliding down in a smooth move, her signature move. The one that always brought every man in the room to his knees.
Then he stood up.
Carmella's breath caught. Without waiting, the man turned his back on her and walked straight out the door into the shadows.
Her mind went blank. Six months. Six months she'd worked here. No one had ever walked out on her. Men threw hundreds at her feet. Begged for her attention. This stranger turned his back like she was nothing.
Heat rushed to her face, not from shame, but from irritation. Who the hell did he think he was?
She forced herself to finish the rest of her performance, maintaining her smile for the cheering crowd, but her mind was completely somewhere else.
The moment the music faded, she stepped off the stage, grabbed her silk robe, and marched straight toward the back bar.
Angela was already at the bar, nursing a drink. Carmella slid onto the stool next to her and slammed her hand on the counter.
"I need a drink," she told the bartender. "Something strong."
Three shot glasses of tequila appeared. Carmella downed all three. The burn hit her throat.
Angela stared. "Hey! Slow down. What's got your panties in a twist?"
Carmella wiped her lips with the back of her hand. "Angie... aren't I stunning?"
"Of course you are. What kind of question is that?"
"Everyone knows I'm the best dancer in this damn club." She gestured at her body. "Look at this. Who in their right mind could possibly resist?"
Angela raised an eyebrow. "Mellie, what are you talking about?"
"Someone left," Carmella said. "In the middle of my routine. My best one. And some guy in the back just got up and walked out!"
Angela's smile vanished. "Wait, really? No one ever leaves your set."
"Exactly!" Carmella leaned back. "He didn't even watch the main drop. He just stood up and left like I was boring him."
Before Angela could reply, a hand rested on Carmella's shoulder. She turned to find Antonio, the club manager, standing behind her. His usual slick expression was gone. His skin was pale. His hands were trembling as he adjusted his collar.
"Red," Antonio said. His voice low. "Someone wants a private dance in the VIP room."
Carmella rolled her eyes. "Antonio, you know the rules. I don't do private dances. Tell him to throw his money at someone else."
Antonio swallowed hard. "Unfortunately, he's not someone I can say no to."
Carmella paused. Antonio was a ruthless man who regularly threatened the girls with pay cuts and extra shifts. To see him this terrified was alarming.
She let out an annoyed sigh. "Still no. I'm tired, and my shift is over."
Antonio leaned in. "Please, Red. Just this once. Denying this man won't just put my life in danger... it'll put yours in danger too."
Carmella stared into his eyes, searching for any sign he was exaggerating. He wasn't. Real fear was written all over his face.
She hated being told what to do. But starting a fight wasn't worth it.
"Fine." She tossed her hair over her shoulder. "Take me to him. But just this once, Antonio. If you ever put me in this position again, I'm done."
Antonio sighed with relief. "Follow me."
Carmella gestured to Angela. "I'll see you at home, Angie. Don't wait up."
She followed Antonio up the dimly lit stairs to the upper level. The noise from the main floor faded, replaced by an eerie stillness. They walked down the long hallway to the private suite at the very end, the room reserved exclusively for high-profile clients.
When they reached the door, Antonio stopped. He reached out to unlock it, but his hand was shaking so badly he struggled with the key. Finally, the lock clicked.
He turned to Carmella. The look in his eyes made her stomach drop.
"Good luck, Red," he whispered. "You're going to need it. Be careful in there."
Antonio practically sprinted back down the stairs.
Carmella frowned. Dramatic idiot.
She pushed the door open, and stepped into the softly lit suite.
The VIP room was plush, lined with dark wood paneling and leather couches. Sitting right in the center of the main couch, swirling a glass of whiskey in his hand, was the man from the back of the club.
Carmella stopped. The irritation from earlier vanished, replaced by a surge of satisfaction. A smirk spread across her lips as she leaned back against the doorframe, crossing her arms.
- I knew it. He didn't leave because he was bored. He wanted me all to himself.*
"Well," Carmella said, stepping forward. "Look who decided to—"
CLICK.
The door slammed shut behind her.
The smirk slowly faded from her face as the man on under the lamplight, she saw his face. He was handsome in a dangerous way. Sharp cheekbones with green eyes that held no warmth.
He set his glass down and looked straight into her eyes.
"What's going on?" Carmella asked, her playful tone gone. She grabbed the handle. It wouldn't budge. "Why is the door locked?"
He stood up slowly. All six-foot-three of him loomed over the space between them.
"You've kept me waiting for a very long time, Carmella," he said.
Her heart pounded. She'd never told anyone at the club her real name. Only Angela knew it and she only ever called her Mellie in private. To everyone else, she was just Red.
Before she could speak, two heavy men stepped out from the shadows. They positioned themselves near the door. But they didn't move toward her. They just stood there. Waiting.
Taking their cues from him.
He took a slow step toward her. His eyes locked onto hers with absolute ownership.
"It's time to come home."
