The Billionaire‘a Desire: Owned by Him

Chapter 6: Edge of control

Zara sat in front of the mirror in the club’s changing room, the harsh glow of the overhead bulb casting stark light across her face. Around her, strollers and s*x workers lounged and moved about, chatting and laughing as they prepared for the night. Zara, the quiet introvert who always kept her distance, focused on her own routine, carefully applying her makeup.

She looked stunning, as always, in her thong suit. Her wig sat perfectly in place, her hair sprayed until it shone under the lights. She was ready to dance.

Then Antonio walked in.

His face was rough and burly, like a bulldog’s with a gold teeth that glinted in the dim light. His smile was intimidating—the kind that made the air feel heavy. He looked like a killer straight out of a crime documentary.

If you looked closely, you could see the blood of his enemies crusted deep beneath his fingernails. The room seemed to hold its breath.

Silence.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice low and mocking, eyes blazing with fire. “Looks like someone thinks they can pick and choose.”

Zara froze. Her stomach tightened, her heart thumping. “I… I didn’t mean to—”

The dancers scattered, leaving her alone with him.

“Didn’t mean to what?” he interrupted, his voice sharper now. “Skip a client? Let me guess—you didn’t dance for the old man tonight?” His sneer made her shrink back. She knew exactly what he was capable of.

“You know how rich and influential that sixty-five-year-old man is, walking stick or not, and you just… refused?”

“I—I wasn’t comfortable.”

“Comfortable?” His laugh was cruel. “This isn’t about comfort. It’s about earning. You think I pay for pretty faces to sit around?” He circled her slowly, each word landing like a strike. “Every dancer here knows: you dance, you perform, or you’re out. You’re lucky he didn’t leave upset. That’s on you.”

“Now, you’re gonna pay.” He grabbed her hand, yanking her forward.

Zara bit her lip, holding back tears, as he shoved open the door and dragged her toward the club.

The music thumped louder now, the disco lights, dancers and men moved rhythmically on the floor. Nat sat at the bar, waiting for Zara, his sharp eyes caught sight of Zara and Antonio. His face was etched with concern.

“You’re going to raise $1,000 tonight,” Antonio hissed. “That’s… five, six, seven men to dance for. If they demand more, you no longer have the liberty to refuse.” His hand traced the shape of a knife across her throat.

Zara trembled, her body quaking as if the earth itself shook beneath her.

“You hear me!” he screamed.

Nat’s ears rang as he approached, worry for Zara growing with every step.

Zara lowered her gaze, tears spilling over.

“Puttana!” Antonio spat, his rage slicing through the room like a whip, before turning and leaving.

Nat rushed to her side.

“Zara,” he called softly.

Overcome, she collapsed into his arms. He held her close, shielding her from the chaos around them. The music thumped like a distant heartbeat, but in his embrace, she felt a fragile sense of safety.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, stroking her hair gently, like calming a frightened cat.

Her sobs grew louder.

“It’s okay now,” he murmured. “It’s going to be fine. I’ll make it fine. Everything’s going to be alright, Zara.”

Warmth spread through her chest, confusing yet comforting all at once.

“Come,” he said after a moment, leading her outside the club towards his car. “Let’s talk.”

Her eyes were red from crying, but she followed him, trusting the man who had somehow become her anchor in the chaos. He had a plan, an offer ready to get her out of the mess but still, a flicker of worry lingered. Would she accept it?