She Rogue

2. Predator's Lair

I entered the large room, immediately struck by its brightness—a stark contrast to what I expected in a place like this. Red wooden furniture filled the space, its polished surfaces gleaming under the light. The faint scent of menthol mixed with firewood hung in the air, creating an odd, almost inviting warmth. The floor beneath me was a blend of brown and red marble, cool and solid, grounding me as I tried to steady my nerves.

At the center of the room sat a man at an imposing desk, flipping through photographs of women. His dark gaze lifted to meet mine, and an unsettling chill coursed through me. His eyes were sharp, predatory, the kind that saw too much and gave away too little.

A smirk tugged at the corners of his lips as he studied me, dragging his gaze deliberately up and down my frame. That stirring feeling in my gut wasn’t just nerves—it was a warning. My instincts screamed danger, flashing memories from a past I tried to bury.

My hands trembled slightly, and I clenched them into fists at my sides to regain control.

“Stay calm,” I told myself, forcing a breath through my clenched teeth. This was a job interview, nothing more. I was here because I needed this, because I had no other options.

“Hi,” I said, my voice steadying as I straightened my spine. “I’m Atria. I’m here for the job.”

His smirk widened, and his gaze darkened with a flicker of something sinister. He pushed back his chair, rising slowly and crossing the room with deliberate steps. As he drew closer, the scent of burnt wood and something metallic hit me, sharp and cloying.

“What are you waiting for?” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Get on your knees and start the job.”

I froze, the meaning of his words sinking in just as his hand moved to my shoulder, pressing me downward.

“Excuse me?” My voice cracked slightly, but I held my ground, looking up at him with wide, incredulous eyes.

“What’s wrong, honey?” His tone was mockingly sweet, his grip tightening. “Let’s see those pretty lips around—”

“Enough.” My voice came out as a growl, low and steady, surprising even me. My canines flashed in a subconscious display of defiance as I shoved him back, my muscles taut with readiness.

His laugh was low and dark as he stumbled a step but didn’t retaliate. “Fiery little thing, aren’t you?”

I didn’t answer, my heart racing as I calculated my options. Running wasn’t one of them. The man by the door—Mark, I’d heard them call him—was huge and heavily built. If Gabriel decided to force me, Mark would hold me down without breaking a sweat.

But Gabriel didn’t push further. Instead, he tilted his head, studying me like I was a puzzle he suddenly wanted to solve. “Why are you here then?”

I straightened, brushing imaginary dust from my jeans as I met his gaze head-on. “I told you. I’m here for the job. Hostess, bar staff, waitress—whatever you need.”

His smirk softened into something more amused. “Ah, that kind of job,” he said, returning to his desk as if nothing had happened.

“Well, those positions were filled last month. You’re late, kitten.”

Kitten. I bristled at the condescension in his tone but kept my face neutral.

He pressed a button on his desk phone, his voice casual. “Bamby, bring in some coffee. And…” He glanced at me with a raised eyebrow. “What do you want, girl?”

“Atria,” I corrected, my throat dry. “Water, please.”

“Water, sodas, and the usual snacks,” he said into the phone. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

The word rolled off his tongue with a familiarity that grated on me. He leaned back in his chair, lighting a cigar as his dark eyes flicked back to me.

“You know it’s dangerous here for rogues,” he said, exhaling a cloud of smoke. “People disappear all the time. No one comes looking.”

“I know,” I said, my voice even. “But I need the work.”

He studied me in silence, his expression unreadable. The tension in the room was thick, each second dragging like hours. I forced myself to stand still, to not fidget under his scrutiny.

The door opened, breaking the silence. A young woman pushed in a trolley laden with drinks and snacks. Her skirt was so short it barely covered her, and the corset she wore emphasized her cleavage. She was striking, with lavender ponytails and lips painted a deep, unnatural purple. She couldn’t have been older than nineteen.

“Here you go, Gabs,” she said cheerfully, her voice light despite the heaviness of the room. “Want me to leave the trolley?”

“Yes, Sky. Is it quiet out there?”

“It’s picking up,” she replied, flashing him a bright smile before swaying her hips back out the door.

I watched the interaction with unease. The casual slap he gave her as she left felt too intimate, too rehearsed.

“Drink,” Gabriel said, placing a glass and a bottle of water in front of me. He poured himself coffee, adding sugar with practiced ease. “Eat something. You look like you haven’t had a proper meal in days.”

I hesitated, but my stomach betrayed me with a loud rumble. Heat rose to my cheeks as I reached for a sandwich, deciding that pride wasn’t worth starving over.

He watched me with an expression I couldn’t read, his cigar balanced between two fingers. “We can pack some sandwiches for you to take. Consider it charity, since we’re not hiring.”

“Why would you do that?” I asked between bites, the suspicion clear in my voice.

“Because I’ve seen enough starving rogues to know the look,” he said simply, no mockery in his tone.

The man was a contradiction—dangerous one moment, almost kind the next. As I ate, I tried to make sense of him, of this place, of why I was still here when there was no job to offer.

He chuckled suddenly, a low, throaty sound. “You’re wondering why I haven’t thrown you out yet.”

I froze, sandwich halfway to my mouth.

“Finish your coffee,” he said, leaning forward. “Then we’ll talk.”

My pulse quickened at the sudden shift in his tone. There it was again—that edge of danger lurking beneath his calm exterior.

I added sugar to my coffee, took a biscuit, and glanced at Gabriel. “Thank you, Gabriel, I appreciate your kindness. Since the jobs aren’t available, I think I should go…”

I started to rise from my seat, but his voice stopped me cold.

“Not so fast, kitten,” he said, leaning back in his chair with a smirk that sent shivers down my spine. “We’re not done here. Sit back down. We’ll talk.”