Chapter 4: Dance
1037 Words
_Velvet. 2:47am._
The line outside was down the block, Elena walked straight to the front.
The bouncer didn’t check her ID, he just nodded and opened the rope, “Mr. Voss is expecting you.”
"Of course he was".
Inside, Velvet was worse at night, thick smoke enough to choke on, bass in her teeth, red lights that made everyone look like they were bleeding.
A hostess in black led her past VIP, past the bar, to a door with no sign, she opened it and left Elena there.
Private room.
Damian was already inside.
Leather chair, no drink, no phone, just him, watching the door like he’d been counting seconds.
“You’re early.”
“You’re not surprised.”
He gestured her to the empty space in the middle of the room, polished floor. one spotlight from above.
“Rule 4,” he said. “Dance for me.”
Elena stared at him. “That’s it? That’s the rule?”
“That’s tonight’s rule.”
She crossed her arms. “And if I say no?”
“Then you go home and wonder if Maya’s still breathing in the morning.”
Low. Quiet. It landed.
She hated him for it. Hated that her hands were shaking and it wasn’t just anger.
Music was bleeding through the walls, slow, heavy, something with a drum that felt like a heartbeat.
“Music,” she said.
He tapped his phone. The bass dropped. The spotlight hit the floor.
He didn’t get up, he didn’t smile, just leaned back in the chair, one arm draped over the side, and watched her.
Like she was the only thing in the room.
Elena moved.
Not because she wanted to, but because she had to.
First it was stiff, angry, every step said _I don’t want to be here._
But the room was hot and the dress Rule 3 made her wear was red and too tight and it moved with her.
And Damian didn’t look away.
His eyes tracked her, not her face. not at first,he gazed at her shoulders, her waist, the way her hands gripped her own arms like she was holding herself together.
After a minute she stopped fighting it, she closed her eyes, If she was going to do this, she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Then the song changed. Slower.
When she opened her eyes again, he was closer.
He hadn’t moved from the chair, but somehow the distance was gone.
“Stop,” he said.
She did, her chest rising.
He stood, finally, six feet of suit and control and something she didn’t want to name.
He circled her, once, slow.
His shoes made no sound on the floor.
“You dance like you’re mad at it,” he murmured, behind her now, she could feel him but not touch him.
“I am.”
“Good. Don’t stop being mad.”
His hand lifted, she tensed.
He didn’t touch her, he brushed a piece of hair behind her ear, the back of his knuckles grazed her jaw.
Her breath caught.
“Rule 4 is done,” he said. Voice right at her ear. “You followed it.”
She turned to face him. “Is that all you want? For me to perform?”
“No.” His eyes were dark. “I want a lot of things, Elena. That was just tonight.”
The door opened.
Marco Varga.
Tall. Gold watch. Smile that didn’t reach his eyes. Two men behind him.
“Well,” Marco said. “If it isn’t the billionaire and his new toy.”
Damian’s whole body went still. The air in the room dropped ten degrees.
“Get out,” Damian said. Quiet.
Marco looked at Elena. Dragged his gaze down and back up. “She’s pretty. Debt must be bad.”
“Last warning.”
Elena stepped back without thinking. Right into Damian’s space. He didn’t touch her, but he shifted so he was between her and Marco.
Marco laughed. “Relax. Just came to deliver a message. Tell the girl her sister says hi.”
He dropped a photo on the table. Walked out.
Elena grabbed it.
Maya. Tied to a chair. Eyes open. Scared.
Her hands started shaking for real this time.
Damian took the photo from her. Studied it. His jaw ticked.
“It’s old,” he said. “Two weeks.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if it was new, I’d already be killing him.”
He put the photo in his pocket. Looked at her.
“You’re shaking.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not.”
Before she could answer, his phone buzzed. He read it. Swore under his breath.
“Change of plans. We’re leaving.”
“Where’s Maya?”
“Not here.” He took her elbow. Not rough. Just firm. “But we’re going to find out.”
They moved fast through the club. His hand never left her arm. People moved out of the way.
Outside, his car was idling. Black. Tinted.
He opened the door for her. When she got in, he shut it and went around to the driver’s side.
The drive was silent. Fast.
LA blurred past.
Finally, at a red light, he spoke without looking at her.
“You did good in there.”
“I didn’t have a choice.”
“Most people don’t. They still break.”
He glanced at her. Just once.
“You didn’t.”
The light turned green.
He pulled up to her apartment 12 minutes later. Cut the engine.
“Rule 5 tomorrow,” he said. “3am. Same place.”
“What is it?”
“You’ll find out.”
She reached for the door.
“Elena.”
She stopped.
“Wear the red again.”
She got out. Didn’t answer.
Upstairs, she locked three locks and sat on the floor with her back to the door.
The photo of Maya was burned into her eyes.
Her phone buzzed. Unknown number.
_She looks like you. - D_
Elena threw the phone across the room.
Then she picked it up and charged it.
Because night 5 was in 22 hours.
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