The Velvet Room pulsed with low music and flashing lights, but Eva Lane barely noticed. The tray in her hand was heavy with half-empty glasses, and her feet throbbed inside her too-tight heels. Still, she wore the smile she practiced every night in the mirror.
Tips meant Noah got to eat tomorrow.
She weaved through the crowd, expertly dodging a group of drunk investment bros in expensive suits. The scent of spilled liquor, too much perfume, and desperation filled the air. Velvet Room wasn't just a club, it was an escape for the city's rich and reckless.
Eva, unfortunately, was neither.
Her phone buzzed in her apron pocket. She shouldn't check it on the floor. But something twisted in her chest Noah.
She ducked behind the bar and pulled the phone out. One glance at the screen, and her stomach sank.
Voicemail: Roosevelt Elementary School.
She pressed play, hands already trembling.
"Miss Lane, this is Ms. Henry from Noah's school. I'm afraid if we don't receive payment by Friday, your brother will be removed from the program. Please call us."
Removed.
Her lungs tightened. That couldn't happen. Noah had already been kicked from two schools this year. One more and CPS would come sniffing. Again.
Eva shoved the phone back into her pocket, her hands clammy.
Noah couldn't get suspended. Not again. Not after what happened last time. The thought alone made her stomach twist.
She straightened up, blinking the burn behind her eyes away.
"Eva!" barked the manager, waving at her from the other side of the bar. "Table ten's waiting on their drinks!"
"On it!" she called, grabbing the tray and pasting her smile back on. It felt like wearing someone else's skin.
As she walked, the music shifted. Slower. Darker. The kind of beat that made the club feel like a predator breathing down your neck.
And that's when he walked in.
He didn't belong here.
Tall. Impeccably dressed in a black suit that looked custom cut to his broad shoulders. He moved like he owned the ground beneath him.
Because he did. And something in Eva's chest tightened, like the air itself recognised him.
Enzo Stone.
Eva had no idea who he was not yet but the Velvet Room had been his playground before it was ever hers.
The crowd parted for him like instinct. No pushing. No shouting. Just silence, as if everyone sensed the danger wrapped in that cool, beautiful shell.
Eva's tray trembled slightly in her hands.
He was… breathtaking. In the way a hurricane was beautiful from a distance. Dark hair, sharp jaw, cold steel eyes.
And for one surreal moment his gaze locked on hers.
She stopped breathing.
Then, as quickly as it came, the moment broke. She turned away, forcing herself to keep walking.
But he didn't.
From the shadows, Enzo Stone watched her.
She was young. Maybe twenty, at most. Slim, with curves that hadn't yet learned to lie. Her uniform clung to her modestly, but there was no mistaking the quiet strength in her eyes, the way she didn't shrink from the world, even when it crushed her.
She reminded him of someone.
Too much.
"Damian," he said without turning his head.
His right-hand man stepped forward from behind him.
"Yes, sir?"
"The waitress."
"The blonde?"
"The one who looked like she didn't belong in this place."
Damian followed his gaze, spotting Eva clearing a table with methodical care.
"She's… very young."
"She's exactly what I need."
Damian raised a brow but didn't comment. He knew better.
"Find out everything about her," Enzo said, his voice low. "Discreetly. No mistakes."
"Understood."
Enzo's gaze lingered on her a moment longer.
Innocent. Naïve. Desperate.
Exactly the type that couldn't afford to say no.
...
Behind the scenes, wheels began to turn.
Damian approached the manager, a balding man with a permanent layer of sweat clinging to his collar.
"Eva Lane?" he repeated, scratching his neck. "Yeah, she's been here six months. Never late. Quiet girl. No boyfriend."
"She's struggling?" Damian asked casually.
"Single guardian to her kid brother. Parents are dead car crash. She's trying to keep them both afloat on tips. I think she's behind on rent."
"Virgin?"
The manager blinked. "Uh… I guess? She's not the type to party. Keeps to herself. Real polite."
Damian passed him an envelope. Thick.
The manager took it without a word.
Eva had no idea her life was being packaged and sold.
When the invitation came, it was handwritten.
Her name. A suite number upstairs. A promise of… compensation.
She stared at it like it was dipped in poison.
"I'm not an escort," she whispered.
"You're not," the manager said too quickly. "But this… this could solve your problems, Eva. Think of your brother."
The number scribbled below the suite made her eyes blur.
Twenty thousand dollars.
For one night.
Her knees buckled. She gripped the bar.
She wouldn't. She couldn't.
But Noah's voice echoed in her mind"Evie, will I get to go back to school?"
She went upstairs.
The penthouse was dim, the air warm with something that smelled like cedar and fire.
He stood at the window, looking out over the city.
Enzo turned slowly. The look in his eyes made her stomach flip.
She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out.
He walked toward her, every step slow. Measured. Like a lion circling something breakable.
"I don't bite," he said.
"You don't have to," she replied, trying to hold her ground.
He smiled faintly. "You're braver than I thought."
"I'm not brave. Just… desperate."
His gaze flicked to her face, then lower. Not leering studying.
"Do you know why you're here?"
She swallowed. "I think so."
"And you came anyway."
"I haven't agreed to anything yet."
"No," he said softly. "You haven't."
He walked around her, slow and deliberate. His finger brushed the small of her back, making her shiver.
"Because," he said, voice low like a secret, "I want to see what you'll trade for your brother's future."
Eva turned to face him. "You're offering me money. For sex."
"I'm offering you a choice," he replied.
She trembled but not from fear. From something darker.
His presence was like gravity. She couldn't step away.
"I don't even know your name."
"Enzo Stone."
Her breath hitched.
The Enzo Stone. Billionaire. Ruthless. The man who owned half the city.
He stepped closer.
"One night," he murmured. "No strings. Twenty thousand."
"And then?"
He tilted his head. "Then you walk away. Or you don't."
Silence stretched. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.
She didn't say yes.
She didn't say no.
He turned to Damian.
"Find out everything about her."
A pause.
Then, quieter
"I want her. Tonight."
Eva's hand brushed the doorknob.
But she didn't turn it.
She hadn't walked away.
Not yet.