His eyes crinkled with that sleazy smile. "You don't need his name. Just know he's the real owner of this club, this whole damn street. Serve him right, and you're set here."
He leaned in, voice low and filthy. "Better bring your A-game, make him speechless with pleasure. Big shots like him don't go for just any open legs, got it?"
His words were blunt as hell, shattering my last hope. I'd thought dancing a few strips would pay off that bullshit breach fee slowly. I wasn't ready to sell my body for real.
Especially not pregnant. But right now, I had zero ways to fight back.
I bit the inside of my lip hard, tasting blood.
The hallway got darker. Wall lights shifted from white to deep red. Carpet changed from worn gray to plush crimson, silent underfoot. Air turned too—from sweat and cheap perfume in the dance area to cigars and fancy wood scent. The mix choked me.
My heart pounded heavier with each step.
Two guys stood at the VIP room door.
Not regular bouncers. These beasts were over six feet, in tailored black suits. But the cut left extra space at the chest and pits. I'd bet guns were tucked in there.
Their eyes scanned me. One nodded to Silvio, then pulled the door open.
My legs turned to jelly. I'd suspected this club's shady side, but mafia ties? Remembering Liam's warning, my blood ran cold.
Fuck, I'd thought dancing like shit would keep me out of this mess.
I hesitated at the door for a second. Before the guards stared me down, I gritted my teeth and stepped in.
Damn it, if I told this big boss I wasn't here willingly, would he let me go?
The room was even dimmer. Red light seeped from wall strips. Whiskey and cigar smells hung heavy. Leather sofa took half the wall, table held bottles and cut fruit.
Then I saw the big boss himself.
Enzo lounged in the sofa's center, right leg over left, left arm on the back. His tie hung loose, black satin dangling on his chest. Shirt unbuttoned at the top, showing a sliver of skin below the collarbone. Sleeves rolled to forearms, that scar on his right arm out in the open—from inner wrist to elbow, jagged edges two shades darker.
I froze. My brain exploded, pieces scattering.
Enzo owning this club was shock enough. But he looked nothing like the company version.
Office Enzo was perfect—custom suit buttoned to the top, cold and stern like a gorgeous, emotionless statue.
This guy slouched lazy and wild. He tilted his chin up, dark eyes raking my body without shame. Raw, arrogant power poured off him.
Or put bluntly, he was sexy as hell, driving me nuts.
Enzo nodded at Silvio when he saw me. Silvio got the hint, backed out, and shut the door.
A few others lingered—two black-clad goons in the corner, relaxed but watchful. Two club girls sat at the sofa's end, curious eyes on me before dropping.
Enzo raised his right hand, hooked two fingers my way.
"Come here."
His voice rumbled low from his chest, echoing in the quiet room, sending chills up my spine.
My body reacted faster than my brain—stomach tightened, tingles shot from my tailbone.
Enzo waited two seconds, then arched a brow impatiently.
"I said, come here."
