Page 6 of Defying Love

The offer hung between us, heavy with implication. Full-time—stability, a future, a chance to carve a place in this neon-lit world.

"Are you interested?"

I hesitated, the sensation of being watched creeping back into my awareness. Yet there was no time for hesitation, no room for doubt. This was survival. This was life.

"Yes, I'm in."

"Good." Willow's expression hardened. "Welcome to the family. We take care of our own here."

As she departed, melding back into the fabric of the club, I allowed myself a moment of quiet triumph. The sensation of unseen eyes upon me receded, replaced by a burgeoning sense of belonging. This job, this world with its lurid glow, offered me a foundation upon which to rebuild the dreams that had crumbled upon my arrival in Las Vegas.

Chapter Four

Dominic

Isurveyed the writhing mass of bodies intermingling on the dance floor, each soul seeking something—pleasure, oblivion, connection—in the dim throes of my domain. My gaze, however, remained detached, as if I were a god musing over the fates of mortals, untouched by the chaos of their earthly indulgences.

The doors parted, and a figure emerged like a wisp of purity in a sea of decadence. A blonde threaded through the crowd. There was a hesitancy to her step, a tentative grace that betrayed her unfamiliarity with this world—a lamb among wolves. Her eyes, wide with a blend of wonder and trepidation, scanned the scene, taking in the undulating forms, the flashes of skin illuminated by intermittent bursts of color.

She was different from the eager hedonists that surrounded her, who moved with a practiced abandon that came from too many nights spent chasing the high of the next song, the next drink, the next touch. She walked with a beacon of innocence that had yet to be tarnished by the smog of vice.

From my shadow-draped perch, my eyes were magnetically drawn to the ethereal vision snaking her way through the pulsating crowd below. An enigma wrapped in light, her striking features commanded innocence and allure. The soft waves of her blond hair caught the intermittent lights like strands of spun gold, while her bright-blue eyes, wide with untainted curiosity, seemed to drink in the scene with a thirst for the unknown.

My gaze sharpened, the predatory intensity undiluted by the distance between us. I observed the subtle tension in her shoulders, the cautious placement of her feet among the writhing sea of bodies. She moved with a hesitance that spoke of a world not yet conquered, an unspoken defiance against the night's seductive pull.

Like a sculptor envisioning the potential within uncarved marble, I envisioned her transformation in this den of vice. Yet even as I imagined the possibilities, I couldn't help but be captivated by the stark vibrancy she possessed now—unblemished, raw, real.

Each step she took, every tilt of her head was followed by my unwavering scrutiny. It was as if the room had emptied and only she remained, her presence casting a spell over me, rendering the background noise into mere whispers of irrelevance. I leaned forward imperceptibly, my dark eyes tracing the curve of her jaw, the arch of her neck, and the tentative smile that played upon her lips.

She moved through the club as though she belonged to another realm, a creature of light adrift in the underworld. A rare stirring deep within came on, an emotion unrecognizable and unsettling. For a man who thought I had seen it all, she was a beautiful question mark in a world full of exclamation points.

My hand moved with calculated intent, the sleek mobile device cool against my skin as I plucked it from the mahogany surface of my desk.

“Yes, boss?”

“Willow, who is the new girl that just came into the club?”

“The blonde? Alexa Monroe, sir.”

I didn’t even reply; I just hung up and called the next person.

My thumb swiped across the screen with deftness. The phone emitted a soft click as the call connected, shattering the silence of the office.

"Ricardo." My voice was a low rumble, the dangerous timbre resonating with urgency. "I need details on someone—a woman."

"Understood, boss. What's the name?"

"Alexa Monroe. She's here now, in the club."

"Blond hair, blue eyes, red lips standing out like a bloody beacon?" Ricardo queried, his observation sharp and immediate.

"Exactly her. I want everything—background, connections. And I want it fast."

"Consider it done, Dominic. If she's got skeletons, I'll find 'em."

"Be discreet."

"Always am, boss. You'll have what you need before last call."

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