The Oval never slept.
Even past midnight, the club throbbed like a living heartbeat, lights flashing over bodies pressed together, music vibrating through the floor so hard it rattled every bone in my body. The smell of sweat, perfume, and alcohol clung to the air like a physical weight. I moved between tables and the bar with practiced precision, balancing drinks, wiping spilt liquor, and forcing a smile I didn't feel. Nights like this paid the bills, but they always came with a side of danger.
I thought I was used to it. I thought I could handle anything.
Then I felt it.
That sensation. The prickling awareness at the back of my neck, crawling down my spine, the kind that tells you someone is watching you—really watching you. Not like a casual glance, not like a wandering eye. Watching, studying, deciding.
I turned slowly.
He was there.
Dressed in black from head to toe, standing near the VIP section like he owned the room. Not smiling. Not talking. Not ordering a drink. Just standing. Just watching. His gaze pierced through the crowd, through me, and somehow, through the noise.
My chest tightened.
Men stared at me all the time, usually in ways that made me uncomfortable. But this… this was different. His eyes weren't drawn by attraction. They were drawn by possession, and that made the hair on my arms stand on end.
I forced myself to look away and returned to my work, pouring another drink, wiping the bar for the tenth time that hour. But the feeling didn't leave. Every shadow seemed to stretch toward me. Every movement in the club felt magnified, as if the music, the laughter, even the light, existed only to highlight me in his gaze.
I took a deep breath and tried to focus on the orders. Vodka neat, gin and tonic, whiskey on the rocks. I served the drinks mechanically, counting down the seconds until my shift ended.
And then I felt him near me again.
Too close.
I stiffened as a low, smooth voice cut through the music. "Dance."
I froze, hand hovering over a tray of drinks.
"I—I'm working," I stammered, keeping my tone as calm as possible.
His eyes didn't waver. They were dark, sharp, and almost hypnotic. "You're being watched."
I swallowed. My stomach twisted. "I don't dance for customers."
He tilted his head slightly, studying me like I was a puzzle he wanted to solve. "You danced the moment you walked into this place," he said softly.
I blinked. He was standing so close now that I could see the faint lines of his jaw, the coldness of his lips, the way his eyes seemed to see through my skin. Something inside me twisted—fear, maybe, or something darker. A part of me that had always been cautious whispered to run. Another part… shivered at the intensity of his stare.
I forced my hands to steady themselves as I handed him the glass he had clearly already prepared himself. Our fingers brushed. Just briefly. A spark, sharp and electric, jolted through me. I pulled back immediately, trying to hide my reaction.
He stepped aside, letting another customer approach. Just like that, he disappeared into the shadows of the VIP area. But the damage was done.
I couldn't stop feeling it—the sense of being hunted, measured, sized up, and marked. Even as I moved through the rest of my shift, every noise, every glance, felt charged. The club itself seemed smaller, more suffocating, as if it existed solely to put me in the spotlight of his gaze.
By the time closing came, relief flooded me. My hands trembled slightly as I counted the last tips, wiped down the bar, and grabbed my bag. The alley outside was cool and quiet, a stark contrast to the chaos behind me. I pulled my jacket around me, enjoying the temporary anonymity that the night provided.
I had made it barely three steps when it happened.
A hand clamped over my mouth. Strong, unyielding, uncomfortably precise. Another locked around my waist, lifting me off the ground as if I weighed nothing. Panic exploded in my chest, and I struggled with every ounce of strength I had, but it was useless. The grip was too tight, too practiced, too deliberate.
"Quiet," a voice murmured, low and commanding, right against my ear.
I froze.
I knew that voice.
My heart pounded as I turned slightly, enough to see his face under the dim streetlight.
The man in black.
The devil I danced with.
A black SUV idled nearby, engine humming softly, ominously. The door opened, waiting. Without a word, I was shoved inside. The impact knocked the wind out of me. I hit the seat hard, my legs bouncing helplessly as adrenaline and fear coursed through me.
He climbed in after me, calm, controlled, terrifying. Every movement measured, every step deliberate. His eyes locked onto mine, dark and unrelenting. I tried to shrink away, to disappear into the corner of the leather seat, but it was impossible.
"You should've listened," he said softly, almost conversationally. "Now you're mine."
The SUV pulled away from the curb, swallowing the city behind us. Lights blurred past the tinted windows. My breath came fast. My mind raced, trying to piece together what had just happened, what I had walked into—or, more accurately, what he had pulled me into.
I wanted to scream. I wanted to fight. I wanted to run.
But he had already made it clear.
I didn't stand a chance.
Every instinct screamed at me to panic, to resist, to somehow make him let go. But as I sat there, shaking and struggling to make sense of the sudden violence, a part of me—the part I couldn't name—was fascinated. Frightened, yes. But fascinated.
Because in his eyes, I saw something else. Something powerful. Possessive. Dangerous. And I knew, deep down, that nothing I had ever faced before would prepare me for what was coming.
The city blurred past in streaks of neon. The music of the club was gone, replaced by silence inside the SUV—except for the sound of his boots against the floor as he moved closer. He leaned down, just enough for me to see the faintest smile, the one that didn't reach his eyes.
"You're not leaving," he said, voice smooth as silk but laced with steel.
The realization hit me like a physical blow.
I wasn't just taken. I wasn't just controlled. I was claimed.
And in that moment, my life as I knew it ended.