1 The Proposition

"Why did I think this was a good idea?" I uttered to myself in distress. It was my first day at a job. One I'm not proud of.

'Gentlemen's Paradise' read the massive billboard on the most esteemed club in town. I stood outside in the freezing cold, wearing a skimpy outfit and ready to start my new occupation. I wouldn't be surprised if passers-by had mistaken me for a prostitute.

I know what you're thinking, and no. I am most definitely not a prostitute, nor am I working as a stripper for the club. My expertise involved waitressing to the concupiscent men with large amounts of cash and boners in their pants.

You're probably wondering why I chose to work here, despite having a distasteful opinion about the place. Well, to put it simply, I had no other choice.

My mother and father had both passed away. To say it was the worst experience of my life would be a huge understatement. My father died when he was 39 at a work-related 'accident' which resulted in a defective crane unhooking itself and smashing into his skull. It was gruesomely a fatal death as it was a devastating shock.

As an independent widow, my mother raised us whilst seeking justice in our judicial system for my father's untimely and negligent death. However, the court had merely waived it off as a freak accident and her claim had failed. Apparently, the requisite mens rea was not met under the offence.

Nevertheless, we lived our lives together. My mother, my little brother and I. Life was tranquil for a few years, but everything good came to an end. My mother was diagnosed with throat cancer and we were not financially equipped to get her the treatment she desperately needed. She was put in an induced coma during her last stages and departed from us at the prime age of 46.

My brother, Joel, and I were left to fend for ourselves, living in a tiny one-bedroom apartment. Thankfully, Joel slept on a pull-out couch and I had the bedroom to myself. We really did get along well, but he was quite the lazy little shit and left all household chores to me – including the shopping, cleaning, cooking, paying the bills and so on. Therefore, I had zero leisure time and no life. This entailed no friends nor romance.

To make matters worse, Joel was diagnosed with stage two throat cancer a month ago and required urgent treatment. There was some relief of him being at the early stage, but if we didn't acquire the money to pay for chemo, it would drastically spread through his organs. It couldn't have happened at a worse time, seeing that I was recently fired from my part-time waitressing job at a local diner.

Joel was a struggling artist, so we barely earned enough money for our own upkeep, let alone thousands of dollars for cancer treatment. In spite of this, I was dead set on saving my brother. He was all I had left and I couldn't risk losing him. No matter what.

I searched hundreds of job positions, but to no success. Time was running out, or at least, that's how it felt to me. After additional intensive searching, I had come across an advertisement for a waitress in need. The opening hours were from 7pm until 5am which did seem odd, yet I assumed it was late shifts. In a hurry, I called the manager for an interview and was offered the job on the spot.

And here I was. Entering a lavish club filled with lecherous men and scantily clad women. Unfortunately, the pay was really good. Joel would be able to start his chemo in no less than a month.

My nostrils flared the instant I got a pungent whiff of sweat, alcohol and sex. It took several minutes to adjust to the naked woman swinging on poles and the lewd men ogling them. I shambled toward a corridor where I was instructed to meet 'the boss'. The booming sounds of twerk music and the shouts of rowdy men had given me an ear-splitting headache. 

"Hey, baby. Why don't you get me a gin and tonic with a side of those sweet buns?" A short, chubby man with scruffy hair and a curly beard hollered in my direction. He winked shamelessly when we made eye contact. I had to suppress the urge to smack him across the face.

"I'll go order your drink, sir. But do give me a moment to check in first." I was used to interacting formally with customers. It usually created an impenetrable barrier between the customer and I… Or so I thought.

He aggressively banged his fist on the table to draw my attention. "Hurry up. I don't like waiting!" Spit flung from his dry, chapped lips.

Oh, God. Please give me the courage not to rip this obnoxious imbecile apart. Refusing to deal with the drunkard any longer, I scurried into the main office.

His almond eyes darted toward me. Tall, tanned skin and jet-black hair. He was quite a sight.

"You must be the new girl."

I nodded in response, cautious of saying the wrong thing.

"Don't be shy, love. All my girls have to be confident and flirtatious to make it in this business." His lips curved into a dream-worthy smile, but I knew not to trust it. Men who oozed immeasurable charm were bad news.

"Yes, sir."

"You're a pretty one but not much of a talker, aye?" He chuckled, grabbing a card from his drawer. "Keep this on you, always!" He roughly threw it at me, although I managed to catch it in time.

"It's your ID card. You're provided with a fake name for identity protection purposes." He leaned forward, seductively, on his table with a lady-killer smile. "If any of the fellas get too rowdy, notify my guards immediately and they'll handle the situation."

"Thank you, sir." I held onto the card tightly, growing uncomfortable under his heated gaze. 

"Call me, Caine." He insisted in a sugary tone, invoking my heart to pound ferociously at the repressed lust encasing the office. I now realised how 'close' this boss was to his employees and what he expected from them. "All my girls are under my care and, thus, are my valuable assets. This includes you, CottonV."

I didn't bother asking him what the 'V' stood for, knowing it was sexually suggestive. I just wanted to get the hell out of here.

"Thank you, si...Um, Caine."

"No problem, love." My chest constricted as his stare landed on my cleavage. He slowly licked his lips, imaging the various things he would do to me when the night was over. "Off you go, CottonV."

My brows knitted, displeased by the demeaning name I was assigned. Nevertheless, I made my speedy escape before the boss decided to act on his inappropriate desires. I was locked in a cage with dogs and awaited to be torn into shreds. Not only was I sexually assaulted whenever I laid drinks on the table, but the strippers absolutely despised my existence.

"Yo, sexy!" The same beard man from earlier called out to me. "Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No." This was the fifteenth time the creep had harassed me. I found myself disgusted even breathing within the same vicinity as him.

"Awh, come on! Don't play hard to get." He shouted to me while I headed to the cute bartender.

"What will it be?" Jaxson asked, flipping a cocktail shaker in the air and catching it with his other hand. He had well-kept auburn hair, bright green eyes and boyish good looks. Seriously, all the men who worked here were attractive.

"Something very strong." I requested, rubbing my temples in a soothing circular motion.

"For the dude at the back?"

"Nope, for me." I sulked, invoking him to chuckle.

"Rough night, huh?" He skilfully made my drink, then slid it across the table.

"What is it?" I cautiously sniffed the edge of the glass, instantly receiving an aroma of something sweet and spicy.

"I call it 'The Devil's Temptation'," he answered with a confident smirk.

"My kinda drink." I swallowed it in one swift gulp, igniting my throat on fire. Its acrid taste lingered on my tongue.

"Easy there, cutie. Caine wants you sober enough to serve the VIP guest." I quickly placed the drinks on a tray, steadying my movements.

"It'll take a lot more than one drink to knock me out," I exclaimed, boldly.

"Maybe we can test that theory on your next break." He challenged, a kittenish simper plastered across his face. Bless his adorable soul.

I shuffled on my feet, allowing the drink to settle in and wash away my nerves. Serving the VIP guest appeared more daunting than the creep here, because VIPs had special privileges. They could ultimately get away with doing anything.

"Good luck!" Jaxson encouraged warmly while I strode into a dimly lit room.

"I'm going to need it," I muttered under my breath, convinced that something terrible was about to transpire.

The room was so dark, I could barely see anything aside from a stranger sitting comfortably on a red couch. For a split second, it seemed as though I had caught a glimpse of Lucifer on his throne. I locked onto his piercing blue eyes as they intently observed my actions. His muscular, long legs were spread wide, asserting an aura of dominance.

"Um..." I uttered, at a loss for words. I felt an immense level of intimidation beneath his blazing gaze which portrayed neither desire nor lust but, rather, danger and caution. He was not like the other men who behaved akin to stray dogs. This man was a wolf. An alpha among the pack.

I anxiously wet my dry lips and bent down to set the tray on his table. My eyes drifted to the crotch of his fitted pants, momentarily distracted by the large bulk underneath them. And no, he was not aroused in the least. It was something else… I tried to concentrate, yet couldn't shake off the intensity flowing from his vehement peer.

"Is there anything else, sir?" I stammered apprehensively, hearing the thumps of my own raging heart. The side of his lip curved into a devious grin, exuding an incredible degree of tantalizing charm. My breath hitched as I instantaneously clamped my thighs together to conceal any hint of excitement.

"Would you be interested in making a lot of money?" His raspy, although sensual, voice was very dominating.

"E-Excuse me?" I fumbled, struggling to wrack my brain around his ambiguous question.

"I have a proposition that might catch your fancy."

Oh, fuck. I discerned what he was alluding. Was every person in this club sex addicts who lacked common decency?

"With all due respect, sir, I'm only a waitress. I don't engage in sexual favours," I answered curtly, balling my hands into fists.

"I wasn't talking about that."

"Then what exactly are you proposing?"

"A million dollars," he said as if it were nothing. My jaw dropped in reaction, gawking at him with disbelief.