"This is it. Just push the door and go in."
The man stopped in front of a heavy wooden door adorned with intricate carvings, pointing at the number "312" on the plaque. With a look that screamed "good luck," he gave Dio's shoulder a quick pat. "The lady in there can be… picky."
With that, he practically jogged away, like he was dodging some kind of trouble.
"…"
Staring at the imposing door, Dio took a deep breath, his face set in a reckless kind of resolve, as if he was forcibly tamping down a storm of irritation.
Fine.
He was already here.
But.
If this so-called Lady Elana dared to annoy him even slightly or made any demand that crossed his line…
Heh.
Sorry, but in this Iceberg Club, he'd have to stretch his legs and see if he could punch his way out of Gotham.
---
The heavy carved door closed silently behind Dio, cutting off the hallway's noise.
The room's lighting was deliberately dim, casting a sultry glow. A massive crystal chandelier threw fragmented, dreamy specks of light that danced across a dark Persian rug.
The air was thick with the scent of rose incense, laced with the lingering note of some expensive perfume.
Dio stepped in, his cold gaze locking onto the center of the room—
There, on an overly large, plum-colored velvet sofa, sat a woman in the latest Chanel haute couture. Her fingers, weighed down by a massive gemstone ring, tapped impatiently on the armrest.
Her diamond-encrusted nails scraped against the velvet, making a faint rustling sound.
At the sound of the door, she didn't even look up. Her red lips curled into a sharp, mocking smirk. "The Iceberg Club's efficiency is getting more disappointing by the—"
Her words stopped dead.
She snapped her head up, her perfectly groomed eyebrows shooting skyward.
Her pupils dilated, her coral-lipsticked mouth parting slightly as she swallowed hard.
The blond teenager before her was even more striking than she'd imagined.
His hair, bright as the morning sun, shimmered like molten gold under the lights, completely out of place in Gotham's sinister shadows! His crimson eyes gleamed like twin drops of aged wine, and his sharp jawline radiated an untouchable frostiness.
And what made her heart race even more—
Wasn't this the young man from the parking lot she couldn't stop thinking about?
Oh my God!
He was so gorgeous, it was like her bank account balance had just sprouted two extra zeros!
The shock hit her like champagne bubbles bursting in her chest.
"Hello," Dio said coolly, giving a slight nod, his brows faintly furrowed.
But his icy demeanor only fanned the flames of her interest.
Like a butterfly drawn to rare nectar, she swayed toward him, her skirt swishing, the overpowering scent of her perfume flooding the air.
She reached out with her ring-laden hand, aiming to loop it around Dio's arm. "Darling, what a coincidence—"
Dio let out a cold huff, sidestepping her deftly, as if dodging something unclean. He strode to the other end of the sofa and sat, his movements crisp and precise.
His long legs crossed, his black leather boots glinting coldly in the dim light. He sat like a statue carved from ice and gold, exuding an aura that screamed "stay away."
But far from dousing her enthusiasm, his standoffishness only made her cheeks flush an unnatural red!
She clutched her chest, feeling her heart race like it hadn't since her teenage years—
A thrill and excitement her golf-obsessed, money-reeking, sewer-rat of a late husband could never have given her.
"Darling~"
Her voice was syrupy as she scooted closer, nearly sitting on top of him, her skirt rustling. "What a small world, huh~"
"Small world?" Dio raised an eyebrow, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
"Ugh, so mean!"
She giggled, half-hiding her face behind a feather fan. "Didn't we meet in the parking lot? If I'd known you were in this line of work—"
"Hmph!"
Dio's low grunt wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that made her shoulders flinch instinctively.
But when she saw he wasn't actually angry—just colder in his gaze—a bigger wave of excitement gripped her. She swallowed again, her eyes roving over him even more brazenly.
"Oh, fine, fine, I'll stop!"
Elana fidgeted with her silk handkerchief, her gaze burning. "So, darling, what fun little games can we play?"
But the moment the words left her mouth, she seemed to realize she'd come on too strong. She quickly covered her lips with the fan, feigning shyness.
"Oh, sorry, darling, was I too forward? I'm just… so excited."
As if to cover her embarrassment—or maybe to flex her wealth—she suddenly raised her voice toward the door. "Rochman! Bring ten bottles of Bordeaux for me and this gentleman!"
"Cabernet blend! The best vintage!"
The door swung open silently almost as soon as she spoke.
A team of vested waiters filed in, each carrying a crystal decanter.
Leading them was the lanky man from earlier.
Rochman, was it?
He directed the waiters to line up the bottles neatly on the crystal coffee table, shooting Dio a discreet thumbs-up before leaning in to whisper, "Knew you were made for this gig!"
"Ten bottles, ten grand. At six percent commission, that's six hundred bucks for you."
He winked. "And that's just the start."
Six hundred dollars? Dio's pupils narrowed slightly.
He hadn't done a thing—just sat there, dodged a hug, and hadn't said a word.
And he'd earned what a regular farmer might make in months?!
The crisp scent of fresh cash seemed to fill his nose.
"Darling?"
Elana's expectant voice snapped him back. She leaned forward, her ample chest nearly grazing the table's edge. "What should we do next?"
Dio stayed silent.
This was about as thrilling as watching Old Bob's bedsheets flap in the afternoon breeze.
Wait.
He vaguely recalled something from the club's brochure…
Under Elana's smitten stare, Dio leaned forward.
His movement was elegant but carried an undeniable edge of dominance.
Channeling the cheesy lines he'd picked up from watching Peninsula soap operas with Clark, Dio's slender fingers lifted her carefully maintained chin, forcing her to meet his fathomless crimson eyes with a touch of irreverent boldness.
"Dear lady," he said, his lips curling into a dangerously charming smirk, his voice a devilish murmur, "these mundane games are far too dull. I have a much more thrilling idea, one worthy of your status."
Elana swallowed hard, her breath catching as she gazed at the godlike face inches from hers. His warm breath brushed her cheek, and those ruby eyes seemed to burn with a dark, hellish fire, ready to consume her soul.
A dizzying mix of submission and excitement left her weak.
Like she was under a spell, her eyes glazed over, nodding dumbly. The massive diamond on her ring finger glinted blindingly with her movement. "Yes, yes, darling, whatever you say… I'm all yours…"
"…"
A faint smirk tugged at Dio's lips.
He had to admit—
Clark, those soap operas you watch are way too useful!
---