HATED BY MY FIRST LOVE PREGNANT FOR HIS RIVAL

Vanessa's POV "V! You’re up in two minutes. Move it!" my manager, Greg, shouted over the music. He was a sweaty man who always smelled like cheap cigars and desperation. "I'm going, Greg. Just let me fix my strap," I muttered, my fingers trembling. "Fix it on stage. The VIP in Booth 4 is impatient, and he’s got deep pockets. If he’s happy, you’re happy. If he’s not, don’t come asking me for an advance on your paycheck again." I swallowed hard. "What is the surgery fund looking like? Did the owner approve the extra shifts?" Greg rolled his eyes, checking his watch. “The owner doesn’t care about your grandma’s bones, Vanessa. He cares about liquor sales. Now, get out there and dance like your life depends on it. Because looking at those hospital bills you showed me, it probably does." I took a shaky breath and stepped out onto the stage. The lights were dim, swirling with hues of deep purple and blue. I didn't look at the faces in the crowd; I never did. I just focused on the pole and the rhythm. I moved my body the way I had been taught, a slow, graceful sway that hid the fact that I was dying of shame inside. Ninety thousand dollars, I thought as I spun. That’s what the doctor said. My grandmother was the only person who had ever loved me. When my father brought his mistress and her daughter, Mirabel, into our house just weeks after my mother died, Grandma was the one who took me in. She treated me like a human being, not a slave. Now, her bones were brittle, and the hospital was threatening to move her to a low-care facility if I didn't pay the mounting bills. After my set, I was walking back to the dressing room when Greg caught my arm. "Change of plans. Booth 4 requested a private dance. Now." "Private? Greg, you know I don't have private rooms. I just dance on the main stage." "He offered five thousand for just thirty minutes of your time, V. Five thousand. That’s more than you make in a month here." I froze. Five thousand dollars. That would cover the next three rounds of Grandma’s injections. I looked at the dark hallway leading to the VIP suites. "Is he… is he a regular?" I muttered. "Never seen him before. Wears a mask. Rich as hell, though. He’s already paid the room fee. Just go in there, dance, and keep your mouth shut. Don’t make it weird." I nodded slowly. "Fine. I’ll do it." I walked down the hallway, my heels clicking on the marble floor. The door to Booth 4 was heavy oak. When I pushed it open, the smell hit me immediately. It wasn't the smell of sweat and cheap beer from the main floor. It was sandalwood, expensive, earthy, and masculine. The room was filled with thick, sweet-smelling smoke. Incense. It made my head feel heavy almost instantly. "Close the door," a voice commanded. It was deep, like velvet rubbing against stone. I did as I was told. The man was sitting in a large leather chair in the shadows. He wore a black suit that looked like it cost more than my life, and a silver masquerade mask. "Come closer, V," he said. I stepped into the center of the room. "The manager said you wanted a dance." "I want more than a dance," he whispered. He stood up, he was tall…much taller than I expected. He walked toward me, and I felt a strange heat radiating from him. "You look tired, Vanessa." My heart stopped. "How do you know my name? I'm V here." "I know many things," he said, his hand reaching out to touch my cheek. His touch was electric. The incense was making my brain foggy. I tried to pull away, but my legs felt like lead. The music from outside was a dull hum now. Everything in the room felt slow, like I was moving through water. "You're so beautiful," he murmured, pulling me flush against his chest. "Why do you work so hard for people who don't deserve you?" "I have to… I need the money," I slurred. I felt dizzy. I leaned my head against his shoulder. He felt so solid, so safe. "I could give you everything," he whispered into my ear. "Everything he never gave you." "Who?" I asked, but my voice was barely a breath. He didn't answer. He picked me up and carried me to the velvet sofa. I should have fought. I should have screamed. But the drugs in the incense had taken hold, and a part of me—a desperate, lonely part—just wanted to be held. He leaned in closer to me, his face just a few inches away from mine. "You smell even better this close." His deep voice sounded in my ear. I was already wet, just his voice, and I was this horny. No, this isn't right. I tried to push him off me, but he didn't budge, his body pressed more into mine, not enough to suck the breath out of me but enough to hold me down. "Running away." He teased, biting my earlobe. "Mmn." I moaned but quickly covered my mouth. He yanked my hand away from my mouth. I couldn't see his face properly, but I could see the look in his eyes. His lust-filled eyes gazing into my soul. "No sweetheart, don't hide your moans from me." He leaned in again, this time our lips brushing together briefly. He leaned in to connect our lips together, but I turned my head away from him. His lips landed on my neck, he didn't react. "Fuck." I cussed as he sucked on my neck, that was definitely going to bruise later. He squeezed my breast with his hands as his warm mouth continued its assault on my neck. He pulled back slowly, putting his finger under my chin and turning my head to him. "It's fine if you don't want me to kiss you, there are other things I could do." I sucked in a breath as those words left his mouth, it turned me on even more. I tried to clench my thighs together, but he was already between my legs. "Talking about other things..." He trailed off, lowering his head to my wet, still-clothed core. "Ouu." I moaned as he palmed me through my panties. "Already so wet for me." He growled, ripping my panties off. I tried to clench my thighs again, feeling the breeze touch my bare skin, but he held my thighs apart. My thoughts slowed, slipping out of order. The room felt too warm, too close, like the walls had moved without warning. I remember his voice near my ear, low and familiar, and the weight of his presence beside me. I tried to focus on that, on something solid, but everything kept drifting. The room already reeked of s*x, the sound of skin slapping skin and our moans and groans resonating through the room. My orgasm was building up, I wasn't going to last any longer. "Ouuufughhuh I'm cumming." I moaned as I cummed hard on his c**k. "Damn!" He groaned, twitching inside of me. Two more thrusts later, and I felt him release inside me. Hours later, I felt the cold air hit my skin. I struggled to open my eyes. My head was thumping like a drum. The room was empty. The incense had burned out, leaving only a faint trace of sandalwood in the air. I sat up, clutching the silk sheet to my chest. On the coffee table sat a thick envelope. I opened it and gasped. It was filled with hundred-dollar bills. At least ten thousand dollars. I had just sold my virginity to a stranger. I looked toward the door and saw a man’s silhouette just as he was stepping out. He was shirtless, reaching for his jacket. As he moved, the light from the hallway caught his back and side. There, on the left side of his chest, near his heart, was a dark tattoo. A butterfly with intricate, jagged wings. Before he closed the door, he looked back, though I couldn't see his eyes in the dark. "I’ve always wanted you," his voice drifted through the room, sounding pained. "But you always choose him." "Hold — choose who? What do you mean? " I had a lot of questions to ask, but he was already out the door before I could speak. "Wait!" I tried to call out, but my throat was too dry. My vision blurred, and I fell back against the pillows, the image of that butterfly burned into my mind. I woke up slowly, disoriented, staring at a ceiling that didn’t feel familiar. My head ached, my mouth dry, my thoughts scattered like they didn’t belong to me yet. I searched my memory for clarity and found only gaps. That frightened me more than anything else. Whatever had happened the night before hadn’t felt intentional. And sitting there alone, wrapped in silence, I knew that fact would stay with me. I had enough for the surgery. But as I walked out into the cold morning air, I couldn't shake the feeling that I had just sold more than my time. I had sold a piece of my soul to a ghost. I went straight to the hospital. I sat by Grandma’s bed, watching her sleep. She looked so small. "I got the money, Grandma," I whispered, crying quietly. "You’re going to be okay." I checked my phone. I had five missed calls from a number I didn't recognize. And an email. Subject: Job Application — Alfred Industries. Dear Ms. Cole, we have reviewed your resume for the Personal Assistant position. Please come to the CEO's office at 9:00 AM today for an immediate interview.