EVELYN POV
Shawn Mancini! Did he really just give me a blank check?
The moment he walked into the club, I recognized him. His reputation scared him, and I knew exactly who he was—both the dangerous mafia prince and the college's infamous bad boy. But he couldn't know me. No one could.
With the blonde wig and the mask covering my face, I was confident he wouldn't recognize me. Yet, his piercing stare made my heart pump fast as if he could see right through the disguise. As if I was next on his murder list.
No one at college knew I worked here. Especially not Stacy, Sasha, or Quinn. I'd lied to them, telling them I worked at a small café. I actually did—once. But they barely paid enough to cover a fraction of my tuition, and the endless hours left me physically and mentally drained.
One day, as I dragged myself through another exhausting shift, a woman approached me. She said she was hiring young waitresses for her new club and promised an amount far beyond what I could have imagined. I didn't hesitate—I needed the money.
What I hadn't expected was the reality of the job. The leering eyes, the catcalls, the dangerous men who came and went. I was a waitress. A stripper. Whatever it took to survive. I needed this money to pay for college, to fulfill my father's dying wish for me to become a respectable, educated woman.
But now, Shawn Mancini was here. If he found out who I was, it would all fall apart. The college would find out. Stacy would find out. My stepsisters would make my life even more unbearable.
My life was already a living hell. If my secret came out, it would be over.
"Hey, sexy," a voice drawled, pulling me out of my thoughts.
I turned to see an older man approaching me. Bald, dressed in a crisp suit, a cigar in one hand, and a drink in the other. He looked like he was pushing 60, and his sleazy grin made my stomach churn.
"What are you going to serve me tonight?" he asked as his eyes shamelessly roamed over me.
I forced a polite smile and gestured toward the bar. "We have all sorts of drinks. Which one would you like?"
"I'd like to have you for tonight," he said with a wink.
My skin crawled, but I kept my calm. Usually, if these men wanted private dances or more, they'd go through the manager, not make such bold remarks directly. But this one clearly didn't care. My gaze instinctively drifted back to Shawn, whose piercing stare burned into me from across the room. The intensity of it made me uneasy, but I tried to focus on dealing with the man in front of me.
I stepped back, preparing to shut him down, when Merlin, the manager, appeared out of nowhere. "Is this man bothering you?" she asked.
"Uh..." I began, but the man cut in. "I was just asking this fine lady here for some private time with me."
Merlin's sharp eyes flicked to me, and she tilted her head as if asking for my decision. "Do you want to do a private dance?"
I hesitated. My mind raced as Shawn's gaze stayed locked on me. The last thing I wanted was to give this creep any private time, but rejecting him outright could cause a scene—and scenes were bad news.
It had only been two months since I started working at the club, but I had never agreed to anything on private terms. Something about it never felt safe, no matter how much money they offered. Now, I was caught between Shawn's uncomfortable stare and the older man who was pressuring me for something I didn't want to do.
"Name your price..." he said as he took a sip from this drink.
"My price?" I glanced at Merlin, confused.
"A grand for a twenty-minute private dance," Merlin answered smoothly as if this was all business as usual.
The man's eyes gleamed as he scanned me from head to toe. "I'll pay this beauty…" he paused and scanned me again, "A five grand tip if she agrees to a private dance right now."
I didn't know what they were talking about. My focus was solely on Shawn. For some reason, a chill ran down my spine every time I saw him. There was something in his eyes that made me fear him.
I watched him stand up and start walking toward us. Panic surged through me, and before I could think twice, I grabbed the old man's hand, "Let's go give you your dance."
The loud music and the crowded dance floor faded as I led him down a hallway and into a private room. I closed the door behind us, letting out a long breath that I hadn't realized I was holding.
What was Shawn doing? Did he recognize me? My heart raced at the thought.
This was my first time in this room. It was a small cozy room with dim lighting. A pole stood at one side of the room, and a large, plush sofa took up the other corner.
I pushed the man onto the sofa, making him fall and I turned on the music. As the soft, rhythmic music began to play, I approached the pole, wrapping my legs around it and spinning to face him. Moving in front of the pole, I slowly lowered myself until I crouched at the base and my legs spread wide.
My vision blurred, and all I could see was Shawn. I could still feel the intensity of our encounter from the morning, how he had been so close to me, the scent of his cologne as he leaned in, the way he looked at me before he left, and the way he looked at me now in the club. It was as if he was still watching me, even now.
I knew he wanted me tonight, but why did that thought bother me so much? Why did I care what he wanted? Was I being drawn to him?
There was no old man in front of me now. Only Shawn. His eyes tracked every move I made, studying me as if he was already claiming me without even saying a word.
Leaning forward, I presented him with a perfect view of my breasts, rubbing myself behind against the pole while teasing him with my tongue running over her lips. I slid my hands across the floor to my ankles and slowly glided them up my legs, across my thighs, and up to my chest.
"Like what you see?" I asked with a sly smirk.
He could only nod in pleasure. I felt his gaze pierce right through my soul, and a part of me relished the attention. But then, something shifted. I felt as if someone had grabbed hold of me. My eyes flicked toward the old man in front of me making me jump back.
"Let me touch you..." he stepped closer, "I'll pay whatever you ask. I can't resist you."
I felt disgusted. What was I even doing here? Why did I agree to this private dance?
"You aren't allowed to touch me," I spoke as my heart pounded in my chest, "I'll call security."
"Tell me your price, you little slut!" he shouted as he grabbed me tightly from my arms pushing me to the wall, "I know sluts like you would do anything for some pennies!"
Before I could do something, the door suddenly swung open.
"Where have you been?" Shawn demanded as he stormed toward me, grabbing my hand tightly.
"Who the hell are you?" the man barked, "We're having a private moment here. I paid for that."
Shawn glanced at me. I could see his jaw tightening before he replied looking in my eyes, "I'm her husband."
The words hit me like a slap, and for a moment, I froze. But I stayed silent. He was defending me. But why? Why would he do that? Why would he care?
"But my time isn't over yet," the man shouted, shoving Shawn away.
Shawn didn't flinch. He adjusted his suit, then met the man's gaze with his menacing stare. "How much did you pay her?" he asked ice-cold tone. "I'll pay you double. But right now, she's leaving with me."
"She's not going anywhere unless she gives me what I want," the man sneered, grabbing my arm and yanking me toward him. Without warning, he punched Shawn hard in the face making him fall on the floor. Then, in one swift movement, the man pulled a knife from his pocket and pressed it to my throat. "Take your clothes off, you filthy whore!"