Chapter 7

• "I didn't catch your name, red hair," Senna said as she caught the dress he tossed at her.
• Balia ignored him and walked towards the bathroom to get changed. If he wanted to know her name, he'd have done that politely over a drink or after asking her to strip for him.
• These were the perks of being a stripper. The bad perks. Men could make nasty comments about you, slap you in inappropriate places, and even ask for sex, and all you had to do to keep your job was grin like a fucking Cheshire cat and do whatever you were asked to.
• She wondered who this man was and where he had come from, making him feel he had authority over her. What had she gotten herself into?
• She hadn't. The universe was against her this evening because she had done nothing to warrant this harassment from this strange and devilishly handsome man. As hard as it was to admit, he was an attractive man. She knew he was older than she was, probably in his early forties. But she hated him still.
• When she got to the bathroom, she closed the door behind her. She locked the door as she was afraid of him barging into the bathroom to retake her.
• Sex with him had been horrible. Horrible. From how he handled her, she knew he knew how to fuck a woman to several orgasms. But he restrained her like a piece of paper, rumbling her up, tossing her into a bin, and picking her up again before throwing her into the shredder.
• She was sore. She was bitter, and she had marks around her wrist and a few parts of her body.
• She went to the mirror to look at herself, and she was displeased with what was looking back at her. A woman with messy hair, tear-streaked eyes, a red and puffy face, and marks around her neck. She rubbed her neck softly and closed her eyes to remain grounded. She wasn't going to cry over something like this. She had been through worse, so what couldn't she get over?
• She looked down at the clothes he had tossed at her to see that these were new clothing. A pair of jean shorts and a tank top. Nothing else.
• It was a sharp contrast to the body con dress she had come to the club with. One which he had torn off her body like it was a piece of rag. That had been her favorite and most expensive gown, and he had just torn it off her body like it was tissue paper only to give her this to wear.
• What did he see her as? A fucking maid?
• Sighing, she slipped into the jean pants before throwing the top over her head. She noticed that it was a bit smaller than her body. The pants were too tight and stiff to button, and the tank top tightened around her breasts.
• How the hell was she going to wear this? All it would attract was so much attention and groping if they would leave through the leading club.
• There was nothing she could do about it. The man outside the bathroom didn't care if she followed him naked. He must have gotten her dress to draw attention away from him because he seemed like he was influential.
• For him to have such authority to call all the strippers and speak to them in such disrespectful and degrading tones. It had to be. She had heard whispers from the girls about how hot he was and how they'd have loved him to pick them. She scoffed and arranged her head. They were lucky enough to have gotten into his trap.
• Once she was done dressing up and looked indisposed, she pulled the door open and stepped out. The material was enough to cushion the soreness she was feeling around her thighs and her core.
• He was pacing about the room and answering calls. He was angry all over again. Was that a thing for him? Are you getting mad over calls? She didn't want to be around a man like him.
• As a kid, she had grown up in a very dysfunctional family. With a mother who was a drug addict and an absentee father, she had been pretty reclusive, watching as her family got ruined, watching as they had to move to the slums to live around filthy drug addicts, crackheads, and alcoholics. It was violent-packed like she was in an action movie.
• "I don't care what you do. Just make sure you find her! She's not some ghost. Fuck that! Deploy more men. I want positive news within twenty-four hours. No excuses."
• He ended the call and slipped his phone before turning to look at her. His eyes raked down her body for a brief moment.
• She stood and waited for him to speak. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair.
• "We're going through the main club, so you cover yourself up. You are dressed indecently."
• With those words, he left the room. Balia stood there for a moment in shock. He dared to say she looked indecent after he had gotten this dress for her himself.
• "I should have known better than to expect better from a man like him."
• Her phone and her purse lay somewhere around the room, and she picked it up quickly before leaving the room.
• He was no longer in the corridor when she was out, and she wondered if he had walked with the speed of light. Remembering that he said they were going through the club, she clutched her purse and began to match towards the end of the corridor.
• As she drew close, she could hear the muffled sound of music coming from the club. She finally climbed the steps and was assaulted by loud, angry strobe lights dancing around. People were starting to become much, and the whole area was crowded. She craned her neck to search for a specific six-foot-tall brooding figure with a dark mop of hair, but she did not see him.
• She got confused and lost in the crowd, and when she finally got to the area close to the bar, she stopped. This area was reserved for VVIPs. She had only been here once, and it felt strange now. She was sweaty now, and she wiped her brows before she started for the steps.
• Just as she was about to make a few steps forward, a hand caught her arm. She turned immediately to see a man staring at her with a smile. She frowned. "And who are you?"
• He laughed. "You look lost and found your way in a club. But I fancy you. You look wonderful," His eyes raked down her body. "And that ass. To die for. My name is Salvatore, and what's yours, beautiful lady?"
• "Step away from her before I rearrange your face." A voice said from behind Balia. She noticed the look of shock and pure fear in the man's eyes as he backed away.
• "Sorry, man. I didn't realize she was yours. Have a nice night." He said immediately and hurried away.
• "Let's go," Senna said when she finally turned to look at him. He wasn't smiling, and she wondered why Salvatore had been filled with crippoofear. It made her more afraid.
• As a stripper here, she had heard gossip of how dangerous this place was and how the club was like a ticking bomb, waiting to detonate and destroy everyone in it. She didn't know why that thought came to mind as she followed after Senna, but it was just there, an unsettling feel that crept up her body and sent shivers up her spine.
• A Lincoln Navigator was waiting outside for them. A man pulled it open, and Senna stood to the side and gestured for her to climb before him. At least he could be a gentleman for once. But that wouldn't annul the evil he had just done to her back in that room.
• Senna made sure to feed his eyes as she climbed into the car. She had a well-rounded ass that could send any man running wild. That was why that bastard had stopped her. It was her ass and pointy nipples and a body that looked like it belonged to a goddess. Well, she belonged to him now. He wouldn't let anyone apart from him see her and savor her.
• "Where are we headed to?" She managed to ask after several mental attempts to speak.
• He gave her no reply.