The Velvet Room

Expecting You

Robin pulled out her phone, her fingers trembling slightly as she dialed Malia's number. The sound of the ringing filled her with a mix of anxiety and urgency. She needed to know what was happening, and Malia was her only connection to the outside world right now. When Malia picked up, Robin wasted no time.

“Malia, it’s me. Thorne is gone, and I don’t know what to do next. I need you to call your dad and find out what he’s doing. “

“Okay, I’ll call him right now,” Malia replied, her tone shifting to one of concern. “Just hang tight, Robin. I’ll find out what I can.”

Robin ended the call and paced the dimly lit corner of the club, her mind racing. She could feel the weight of the situation pressing down on her. She glanced around, half-expecting Thorne to appear out of nowhere, but the crowd continued to sway and dance, oblivious to her turmoil.

Moments later, Malia called back. “He’s in a meeting. He said he’ll talk to me after,” she said, her voice laced with disappointment.

“Did he say what kind of meeting?” Robin pressed, hoping for any insight that could help.

“No, just that he’s busy. ” Malia replied, her voice softening. “I’ll keep my phone on, just in case.”

“Thanks, Malia. I appreciate it,” Robin said, her heart heavy. She knew the Don was a powerful man, but she also knew he had his own agenda. If he was busy, it likely meant he was wouldn’t show up at the club.

As she hung up, Robin felt a wave of frustration wash over her. The Don wasn’t coming to the club, and she was left to navigate the night without his influence. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing thoughts.

With a renewed sense of determination, she decided to finish her night at the strip club. It was a place she knew well, a haven of distraction where she could blend in and gather her thoughts. The vibrant lights and pulsing music would drown out her worries, if only for a little while.

But as the minutes passed, her mind drifted. She couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off. The club was supposed to be a safe space, but tonight it felt like a web of secrets and lies.

After finishing her drink, she decided to take a walk around the club. She needed to clear her head and perhaps overhear something that could provide a clue about Thorne’s whereabouts. As she moved through the crowd, she kept her ears open, listening for snippets of conversation that might offer insight.

In one corner, she overheard a group of men discussing a deal gone wrong, their voices low and conspiratorial. Robin’s interest piqued, and she leaned closer, straining to catch every word. They spoke of missing shipments and threats from rival gangs, and Robin felt a chill run down her spine.

Just then, her phone buzzed in her pocket. It was Malia again. “Robin, I just heard from Dad. He’s still in that meeting, and it sounds like it’s pretty important. I don’t know when he’ll be free.”

“Thanks for keeping me updated,” Robin replied, her heart sinking. “I’ll figure it out. Just stay close to your phone.”

Determined, Robin made her way to the back of the club, where the atmosphere shifted.

Robin's heart pounded in her chest as she navigated through the dimly lit corridors of the strip club. As she ventured deeper, she noticed a stark change in the atmosphere. The boisterous laughter and suggestive comments faded, replaced by an unsettling silence. It was then that she saw them – a group of men, their faces hardened, eyes scanning the surroundings with an unnerving intensity. They stood guard near the lap dance area, their presence exuding an aura of power and danger.

Curiosity and trepidation warred within her as one of the men gestured for her to approach. Hesitantly, she obeyed, her senses on high alert. The man's voice was gruff as he spoke, "He's inside." The cryptic message sent shivers down her spine. Who was "he"? And why was he hidden away in this den of iniquity? With a deep breath, Robin pushed aside the velvet curtain, stepping into the private room bathed in crimson light. And there he was, seated on a plush velvet chair, a glass of amber liquid in his hand – Don Moretti. The notorious mafia boss, a man whispered about in hushed tones, a figure of both fear and morbid fascination.

Don Moretti's eyes, dark and piercing, met hers, and a chilling smile spread across his face. "Robin," he purred, his voice like velvet over steel. "I've been expecting you." The room seemed to shrink around her, the air growing heavy with unspoken threats and hidden agendas. She knew, in that instant, that she had stumbled into something far more dangerous than she could have ever imagined. This was no longer just a story; this was real, and her life was hanging in the balance. The encounter with Don Moretti marked a turning point, plunging Robin into a world of high stakes, where loyalty was a luxury and survival was a game of wits.

Robin stood frozen, her mind racing to catch up with the reality before her. Don Moretti, the man whose name was synonymous with power and fear, sat just a few feet away, his gaze unwavering. The crimson light cast long shadows, making the room feel smaller, more claustrophobic. "Don Moretti," she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper. "I wasn't expecting to find you here."

A chuckle rumbled from the Don's chest, a sound that sent a shiver down Robin's spine. "Expectations," he mused, swirling the liquid in his glass, "are often the mother of disappointment. But you, Robin, you intrigue me. You're not like the others who frequent this place." His eyes raked over her, assessing, calculating. "You have a fire in you, a spark of defiance. I admire that."

Robin's instincts screamed at her to run, to escape this dangerous game she had unwittingly stumbled into. But she knew that turning her back on Don Moretti was not an option. She had to play along, to navigate this treacherous encounter with caution and cunning. "I'm just trying to make a living, Mr. Moretti," she replied, forcing a smile. "Like everyone else." The words felt hollow, inadequate in the face of the Don's imposing presence. She braced herself, ready for whatever he might say or do, knowing that her life had just taken a perilous turn.