The stage lights blinded Scarlett, but she felt his eyes on her like ice water down her spine. Alessio De Luca sat in the VIP section, and every man in the club had gone silent when he arrived.
She'd called in sick. Begged Antonio to let her take the night off. But Antonio's response had been simple and terrifying.
He asked for you specifically.
So here she was, moving through her routine like a puppet with cut strings. Her body knew the choreography by heart. Hips rolling to the bass beat. Hands sliding up the pole. Arch your back. Smile.
But her mind was trapped in that hallway. Watching Maria's life drain away.
Thirty seconds left in the song. Twenty-nine. Twenty-eight.
She spun around the pole and her eyes found him without meaning to.
He sat alone in the center VIP booth, sprawled like a king on a throne. The same black suit from last night. But tonight she could see his face clearly.
Beautiful. That was the worst part. Sharp jawline. Full lips. Eyes so dark they looked black in the club lighting. The kind of face that belonged on magazine covers.
But Scarlett had seen what hid behind that beauty.
He wasn't watching her like the other men did. They looked at her with hunger, with lust. He looked at her like she was a puzzle he was trying to solve.
Their eyes met.
Scarlett's foot slipped. Just for a second. Just enough that she had to catch herself on the pole. Heat flooded her cheeks.
His lips curved into the barest hint of a smile.
Around him, other patrons shifted uncomfortably. Several men turned their attention elsewhere. One regular who usually sat front row had moved to the back. They could feel the danger radiating off him.
The song ended. Scarlett walked offstage on legs that shook.
---
Alessio had been alive for four hundred years, and very little surprised him anymore.
He'd come to Club Desiderio out of habit more than desire. He'd been prepared for another forgettable evening. Another woman who would scream and beg and die.
Then she walked onto that stage.
The scent hit him first. Sweet and sharp and utterly intoxicating. He'd smelled variations of it before over the centuries, but never this strong.
High priestess bloodline. Ancient and undiluted.
His fangs descended before he could stop them. He forced them back, forced his face into its usual mask of bored indifference. But inside, something was waking up.
The girl moved across the stage with practiced grace, but he could see the fear in her eyes. Could hear her heartbeat from across the room, fast and panicked.
She'd seen him last night. Watched him feed. And somehow Antonio had been stupid enough to put her back on stage anyway.
Interesting.
He'd intended to simply take her. Pull her into one of the private rooms and drain her before she could scream. Quick. Efficient.
But something stopped him.
Maybe it was the terror in her eyes when she looked at him. Maybe it was the way her foot slipped when their gazes met.
She was afraid of him. Deeply, genuinely afraid. And for the first time in decades, that fear made him feel something other than bored satisfaction.
It made him feel alive.
He wanted to possess her, not just kill her.
When the bidding was announced, Alessio decided to play by the club's rules. Just this once.
---
"Gentlemen." Antonio's voice boomed. "Tonight's exclusive entertainment features our star performer, Tentatrice. Bidding starts at ten thousand dollars."
A paddle went up immediately. Then another. The numbers climbed fast.
Twenty thousand. Thirty. Fifty. Seventy-five. One hundred.
The bidding slowed. Several paddles lowered.
Then the door opened.
Kieran Volkov walked in like he owned the place. Tall and broad-shouldered, with blonde hair and a white suit. Everything about him screamed money and power and danger.
Scarlett had turned down his offers at least a dozen times.
His eyes found her, and his smile widened.
"One hundred and fifty thousand."
The remaining bidders dropped out instantly.
Antonio looked relieved. "Going once, going twice..."
"Five hundred thousand."
Alessio's voice came from the VIP section. Every head turned toward him.
Kieran's expression went cold. He turned slowly, recognition flashing across his face. Then something else. Hatred.
"Seven hundred and fifty thousand," Kieran said.
"One million." Alessio's voice was bored.
The room went silent.
Kieran's jaw tightened. "Two million."
"Three."
"Four."
"Five."
Antonio looked like he might pass out.
Scarlett couldn't breathe. Could only watch as two monsters fought over her.
Kieran took a step forward. "Eight million."
For the first time, Alessio stood. He descended from the VIP area. Men scrambled out of his way.
He stopped ten feet from Kieran. The air between them crackled with violence.
"This isn't about the girl," Kieran said quietly. "Is it, brother?"
Brother? Scarlett's mind reeled.
Alessio's smile was all teeth. "Everything is about the girl. You just don't know it yet."
He turned to Antonio. "Ten million dollars."
The silence was absolute.
Kieran's hands clenched into fists. Then his shoulders relaxed, and that charming smile returned.
"She's all yours." He turned and walked toward the exit, pausing to meet Scarlett's eyes. "For now."
Then he was gone.
Antonio cleared his throat. "Sold to Mr. De Luca."
Guards materialized on either side of Scarlett. They gripped her arms, firm enough that she knew fighting was pointless.
This is how I die. Just like Maria.
Alessio watched her approach. Waited until she was standing directly in front of him. Then he reached out and traced one finger along her jawline.
His touch was cold. So cold it burned.
"Hello again, Tentatrice," he murmured. "Let's see if you're as entertaining in private as you are on stage."
As the guards led her toward the private chambers, Scarlett's legs nearly gave out. She was walking toward her execution, and everyone in the room knew it.