The Mafia King's Obsession

“False Pretenses”

*Harper*

The bar wasn't loud, but the music still managed to settle somewhere in the back of my head, it was steady, pulsing, and just faintly annoying.

I kept my hands wrapped around the stem of the glass Sophia ordered for me. It was something sugary, bright pink and topped with a sparkler that had already fizzled out.

“I told them to make it sweet," Sophia grinned beside me, watching me too closely. “Didn't think you liked strong drinks."

I sipped it once. Artificial strawberry and the sharp burn of cheap vodka slid over my tongue. “It's fine," I said.

Sophia didn't touch her own drink. She leaned casually against the bar, facing the room like she owned it. Her heels sparkled under the low light, just like her teeth when she smiled at nothing.

“Bathroom," she said suddenly, and then, louder, “Don't talk to strangers, Harp."

I didn't even flinch. I watched her walk off, hips swaying, and then… she didn't go to the bathroom.

Instead, she drifted toward the far end of the room, where a man in a dark red button-up stood with a half-empty glass of whiskey. They exchanged a look, one of those long, silent exchanges filled with intention. She leaned in. Said something that made him glance at me. Then she left through the side door.

So that was the game tonight.

Leave me alone in a place like this, dressed like this, and wait for something to happen.

I took another sip from my drink and looked around.

The bar was mostly couples or small groups. Every few minutes, I caught someone watching me, then looking away when they realized I wasn't playing along. I wasn't smiling. I wasn't shifting uncomfortably. I just was.

A couple did invited me to participate in some kind of roleplay. I did my best to kindly decline, feeling like I was ready to leave the club without my stepsister.

That's when I noticed him.

Not a stranger, though it took me a second to place his face. He wasn't dressed like the others, no velvet, no collars, no pretense. Just a tailored navy suit and eyes that lit with recognition the second we locked gazes.

He started walking toward me with a slow, confident ease. Not predatory, very comfortable, and I knew he looked familiar to me.

“Harper?" he asked, coming to stand just off to my right. “I thought that was you."

I raised an eyebrow. “You've got an advantage. You are?" I didn't want to be rude, but I didn't want to fake remembering him either.

“Lance. Lance Everet. History department. I was two years ahead. We had a few classes at university, ancient civs, I think. You always sat at the front. Never talked to anyone." He smiled a little, like he was proud to remember.

“Ah, ancient civics, I remember you teasing the teacher," I said, smiling a bit. He was someone I remembered as not taking the subject so seriously.

“Well," he chuckled, “I feel honored." He gestured to the empty space beside me. “Mind if I sit for a moment?"

I considered it. He recognized me and was friendly, and at least he didn't trick me to come here. “Yes, of course, please."

He ordered something brown and neat from the bartender without asking. I watched the exchange quietly, letting my thoughts stretch into the room.

“I have to admit," Lance said after a moment, “I never expected to see you here."

“Neither did I," I replied, chuckling at the irony.

“So… what changed?"

“Nothing. I was brought here." I gave him a faint smile, one that should show him I was not kidnapped, but not exactly willing either.

“Against your will?" he teased.

I met his eyes and sighed with a smile. “Under false pretenses."

That sobered him slightly. “Ah. That explains the dress. And the expression."

“It's my birthday," I added, then I chuckled again, I was honestly having the most strange birthday ever. “But is ok, I came with someone else, just waiting for that 'someone' to come back to me."

Something about that made his face soften. “Well, damn. Then we should toast to that."

Before I could say anything, he raised a hand to a passing waitress, whispered something to her, and she nodded.

“You'll like it," he said. “It's something special the club makes for members. Only served on birthdays."

I wasn't sure if I liked the idea of anything this club considered 'special,' but I didn't want to seem rude. The waitress returned with a narrow glass filled with something deep red and faintly shimmering.

“Before you drink it, come with me, let me take you to the VIP upstairs, you need to get the full treatment for your birthday," he grinned.

I was not sure I wanted that, but on the other side, Sophie was nowhere to be seen, and from up there, I could probably spot her faster. Maybe she would see me up there, and out of jealousy, come to me as soon as she saw me there. “Ok, but only for a bit, then I have to meet…"

“I know, you have to meet with the person you came with, don't worry," he smirked and offered me his arm.

“Just guide me, will you?" I forced a smile and he nodded.

We started to move between people and the bouncer protecting the stairs leading to the VIP area moved aside once Lance got there, he invited me in and I went up slowly, making sure I wasn't giving him, or anyone else, a sight from behind.

With the drink still in my hand, we reached the balcony and he grinned. “Now this is the perfect view, a sight to behold while celebrating your birthday…"

He was right, the club had a different vibe from up there, and I could see rounded couches with people there, some people on the floor, many looking up wanting to be here.

From where I was, I saw so much more; skin against skin, people letting go and doing things I would have never imagined. I saw a woman resembling Sophie licking the hand of an older man and I was about to head towards her when Lance stood closer to me.

“See?" He raised his drink. “To quiet girls with sharp eyes."

I clinked my glass softly against his. “To people who remember."

The drink was surprisingly smooth. Sweet at first, then warm as it settled in my chest, and then… slower. Heavier.

Something within me told me I should not drink more, and the way he was pretending not to stare at me made my skin fill with goosebumps. And they were the bad kind.

“What do you think of the club so far?" He asked, sounding too happy.

“This place is…" I paused, realizing my tongue was slightly numb. “Very out of the ordinary."

Something was not right.

I blinked, frowning slightly, trying to follow his next sentence, but it took a second longer than it should've to register what he said.

“You alright?" he asked, watching me carefully.

“Just… lightheaded," I muttered. I looked down at the half-finished drink. “Maybe I should find the bathroom."

“I'll show you," Lance said smoothly, already moving. “It's a bit hidden."

I stood carefully, balancing in heels I had almost forgotten I was wearing. The hallway we entered was quieter, darker. Walls painted in a glossy black that shimmered like oil. We passed the actual bathrooms… and kept walking.

Then I saw them. A line of doors that were thick, private, and unmarked.

This wasn't the bathroom, and I wasn't so dizzy anymore, I was angry.

But the weight in my limbs was growing. “What is this place?"

Lance stopped walking, but he didn't answer. Not right away.

The hallway stretched on behind us, too far back, too quiet. My eyes flicked to the row of doors ahead, unmarked, thick, padded in dark leather. Private rooms. I'd read enough about places like this to know what they were for.

I took a step back. “I'm not going in there," I said clearly.

Lance turned around slowly. His smile had thinned, the pretense nearly gone now. “It's just a place to sit," he said smoothly, like he was explaining something to a child. “You don't look so good, Harper. You need to lie down."