chapter 2
900 Words
Viviana pov
Tisha:
“Check your email. The manager just sent something. We’ve got a meeting after work.”
Weird.
Meetings always happened before shift. Always.
And they'd just had one last week.
Still, she opened the message. A few lines.
Straight to the point.
“This is a mandatory meeting. The owner has requested it.”
Her stomach tightened. The owner never got involved unless something was off.
She kept reading.
“Also—when a VIP requests a private dance, I highly suggest you take it.”
That part wasn’t directed at anyone.
But everyone knew who it was for.
Her.
A tight knot settled in her chest. Had he complained?
The manager had never pushed the girls like that. They all had the right to say no. It was one of the few rules that kept the place tolerable.
By the time she walked through the club doors, the shift already buzzing to life, she could feel it—pity-laced glances from the other dancers. No one said anything directly, but their looks told her they’d seen the email too.
Some didn’t get why she turned him down so consistently. But they respected it.
Maybe even admired it.
Because even though he never asked for a dance from any of them, he still handed each girl a grand on his way out. No strings. No small talk.
Just cold, heavy cash and a ghost of a nod.
So when Viviana skipped his request?
They didn’t just lose a lap dance—they lost easy money.
And yet none of them turned on her for it.
They could see the way he watched her.
Some of the girls admitted they felt a sting of rejection—how could they not? A man that fine, that wealthy, that intense, refusing everyone but her?
But no one dared speak against her.
Her shift started. The lights dimmed. Music pumped through the walls. The usual swirl of perfume, alcohol, and sweat coated the air.
But he wasn’t there.
For the first time in weeks—maybe months—he wasn’t in his booth.
She exhaled slowly.
The pressure in her chest eased just enough to breathe without it catching.
Maybe the email wasn’t about him. Maybe he hadn’t said anything.
Maybe—
She didn’t finish the thought. She just worked. Danced. Served.
The hours moved fast when she wasn’t under that laser-cut stare.
With just over an hour left in her shift, she figured it was safe to take her break. She slipped into the back, the usual hum of bass muffled by the hallway walls. She lit a cigarette. Let herself believe, for just a second, that maybe tonight would end quietly.
But when she came back through the beaded curtain and stepped onto the edge of the main floor—
Her heart dropped.
She didn’t need to see him.
She felt him.
That gaze. Heavy. Icy. Branded into her spine.
He was here.
Seated in his usual booth. No drink in hand. Arms crossed. Sea-green eyes fixed on her like she'd done something unforgivable.
He had arrived while she was on break.
She’d mistimed it. Used her escape too early.
And now?
She had nowhere to run.
---
Tommaso pov
He watched her walk out from behind the curtain, eyes scanning the room like she already knew something was off.
Then their eyes locked.
Gotcha.
She froze for just half a second. It was small—anyone else might’ve missed it—but he didn’t. He knew how to read people. And the look on her face when she saw him?
Yeah, he’d surprised her.
Good.
They’d gotten used to routine. He had made sure of it.
Every time he came in, every time he asked for her.
Every time she slipped away like a damn ghost.
But tonight?
Tonight he was done playing.
None of the girls knew who he really was. That had always been part of the plan—stay in the shadows, observe, control from a distance. But that was about to change. The mask was coming off.
They’d all find out tonight that the man who signed their checks… had been sitting in their club all along.
He leaned back, motioned to the floor manager with the flick of two fingers. Didn’t say a word—he never had to.
“I’d like a private room,” he said coolly when the girl came over.
Her eyes lit up. “Absolutely. Anyone in particular you’d like tonight?”
He looked past her.
Right at her.
But then turned his gaze back to the dancer beside him.
“Yes. Her.” He nodded to one of the other girls.
Her face practically glowed. She’d never been chosen before.
He stood, straightened his cuffs, and smirked.
He didn’t look back at her. Didn’t need to.
He already knew she was watching. Could feel the confusion, maybe even the jealousy, rolling off her like heat.
She was used to avoiding him. Dodging. Hiding behind breaks and cold stares.
Well, not tonight.
He let the other girl take his hand and lead him to the private rooms.
Didn’t even glance behind him.
Because this wasn’t about the dance.
This was about shifting the balance.
And when he finally let the truth drop—that he owned the club she thought she could hide in?
Yeah…
Everything would change.
- Writer
