Dylan’s lips, so damn attractive, curved into a slight smirk, and his dark eyes showed an inexplicable interest. He gave a nod, not making it tough for Flora. Instead, he chilled on the couch, thumbing his phone.
Meanwhile, Flora crouched nearby, following club rules and waiting for Dylan, the big client, to bounce. When Dylan finally stood up, Flora believed he was taking off. She shifted, getting the blood flowing back into her numb legs. But then, Dylan did something entirely unexpected: he made himself even more comfortable on the couch and went back to tapping away on his phone.
Flora bit her lip and checked her watch. Two hours had slipped by. Finally, Dylan bounced, looking like he couldn’t take it anymore. Flora watched him leave, rubbing her legs and settling onto the floor. Half an hour later, she exited Desire bar.
Josh waited outside, all worried and glancing around. When he spotted Flora, he rushed up to her, his expression anxious. “Flora…?”
“Josh, why are you still here?” Flora said coolly, mildly surprised.
“I was waiting for you,” Josh said, his expression uneasy. “Flora, I’m sorry.”
Flora raised her eyebrows, her hands in her jacket pockets, and her demeanor distant and frosty. “Actually, I’m used to it.”
As she said the word “used to,” Flora felt a sudden pang in her heart, even her breath carrying a faint ache. She walked off, her figure retreating into the distance, and Josh silently followed.
On the third floor of Desire, in front of floor-to-ceiling windows, a figure stood silhouetted against the dark night. Chuck took a small sip of his red wine, his thin lips curling into a ruthless smirk above his resolute chin. Like a hunter, he always had his prey in sight.
Monica didn’t ask any further questions when Flora quit her job. It seemed inevitable from the start. Flora didn’t bother looking for another gig because she knew it would be pointless. She accepted her fate, hoping that she could break free after a year.
Now, every night, Flora was in charge of Chamber No. 1. Her income was decent, more than enough to support her family. Today, when Flora opened the door to the private room and saw Dylan in the main seat, she couldn’t help but frown. He had been MIA for a few days, and now he was back. She subconsciously felt repulsed by him.
But Dylan wasn’t alone. Flora glanced at the others and arranged their drinks on the table as usual.
“Sir, the thing from last time is sorted,” one man said, pulling a photo out of his pocket and handing it to Dylan.
Dylan didn’t take it but coldly asked, “Was it clean?”
“Yes it is. We left no trace,” the man said, flicking his lighter and igniting the corner of the photo. He sent the burning photo into a nearby wine glass with a quick flick of his wrist, and it turned to ash.
Dylan nodded slightly, lighting a cigarette between his long, slender fingers. Flora set down the drinks she’d prepared, not understanding their conversation but knowing that getting involved with them would only lead to trouble.
Dylan was the youngest scion of the Bowles family, a name known far and wide in Blaiseleek. They held sway not only over domestic and international business but also over the murky underworld. When Dylan inherited the family business, he naturally became the kingpin of this shadowy domain.
Three years after Dylan took the reins, all the rumors about him vanished into thin air, like they never existed.
Dylan gestured, and his people filed out of the room one by one. The door clicked shut, leaving him alone.
The cigarette between Dylan’s fingers had burned halfway down, and ash fell to the ground, creating a haze of smoke.
Suddenly, the room dimmed, leaving only a few flickering lights. The darkness made Dylan’s cigarette seem even more eye-catching.
Flora looked up, unable to see him clearly in the darkness but feeling the danger he emanated. The scent of tobacco mixed with his distinctive cologne wafted through the air, creating an indescribable vibe of desire.
The smell of smoke grew stronger, seeming to fill Flora’s nostrils, accompanied by Dylan’s warm breath.
Flora panicked for a moment, then his lips crashed onto hers, the taste of tobacco invading her mouth and chest. She stretched her hands forward, feeling his fiery heat.
But Flora pushed him away, her face flushed. Dylan’s hoarse voice whispered in her ear, “Why are you still here? I’ll be back tomorrow. If you don’t appreciate the opportunity I’ve given you, I’ll have to take it by force.”
He spoke as if he had every right to do as he pleased, dominating and unreasonable. Dylan stood up, his deep eyes sparkling in the darkness.
Flora covered her neck with her hand, unsure of what to do. This had caught her off guard every time, for a year now.
In the dressing room, in front of the tall mirror, Flora saw the deep red hickey on her neck, a sign of the dominance of the man who had given it to her.
By the time Flora got home, it was 2 a.m. As usual, when she changed into her slippers and closed the door, the living room light turned on, with someone saying, “Hmm, you’re back so late again.”
“Mom,” Flora said, putting her bag on the table, “Didn’t I tell you to go to bed first?”
“Ah,” Monica sighed and went into the kitchen. “Seeing how struggling you are, how can I sleep?”
“Mom…”
Monica brought out a cup of steaming hot milk, her coat slipping halfway off her shoulders. Flora tenderly wrapped it around her mother. “Mom, right now, I can only rely on these nighttime earnings.”
“I’ve heard on TV that many young and beautiful girls have been going to disreputable places at night,” Monica said, gazing worriedly at her daughter. “You mustn’t…”
Monica didn’t finish her sentence, and Flora felt a lump form in her throat. The once smooth and delicious milk now tasted sour in her mouth.
“Mom, don’t worry about it. Actually, some people are earning money legitimately in those places.”
“I don’t care. You’re not allowed to go there,” Monica spoke earnestly, her voice agitated. “Even if I starve to death, I won’t let you go to such places…”
Flora clenched her chopsticks, forcing a smile as she struggled to swallow the food in her mouth. She didn’t dare look into Monica’s eyes. “Mom, I know. It’s late. You should go to bed.”
“Ah, your father left us too early. I know the burden on you is heavy…”
“Mom, why are you bringing this up again?” Flora stood up, placing a hand on Monica’s shoulder. “We’re fine, aren’t we? Go to bed. I’ll clean up.”
Outside, the night was deep, and Flora stared blankly out the kitchen window, not noticing the sink brimming with water. She knew her mother would oppose her working at a place like Desire, which was why she kept it hidden. As for the future, there was no room for planning. She could only take one step at a time.
Soon the next day came.
Inside Desire’s lounge, the women chatted excitedly about their attire and the wealthy patrons they encountered. When it was time to change, Tina, dressed in a suit, walked in. “Flora, come here.”
Flora put down the drink menu and followed her to the next room. Tina closed the door and leaned against the large dressing table. “Flora, our boss wants you and May to perform on stage together tonight.”
