The bass throbbed in my chest, each beat a countdown to my performance. Backstage, the air hung thick with cheap perfume and desperation, a cocktail I'd grown accustomed to. I hurried to my cramped dressing room, the flickering fluorescent light casting harsh shadows. Ten shows a night, plus private requests – it was exhausting, but it paid the bills. Some of the other dancers resented my popularity, whispered about how I always snagged the wealthiest clients. But their jealousy was white noise to me. I danced for myself, on my own terms.
Tonight, I was wearing a red and white number: a flirty, ruffled skirt, a delicate white lace top, a barely-there red lace thong, and killer white heels. The outfit was designed to tease, to tantalize, to command attention. As I finished applying my lipstick, a shade of crimson as bold as my ambition, a stagehand's voice called me to the wings.
As the opening chords of my song filled the club, I walked slowly onto the stage. The smoky air swirled around me, catching the glittering lights. I kept my gaze low, letting the anticipation build. The whistles and cheers of the crowd washed over me, a familiar roar. Above the stage, the digital board flashed: "Red Rose."
The name always felt a little cheesy, but it stuck. When I started at the club, the owner had insisted on a stage name, something meaningful. Red was my power color, a symbol of passion and strength. And rose? Well, that was a ghost from my past. When I was thirteen, a boy gave me a single red rose every month on the same day. It was a sweet, innocent gesture, a fleeting moment of connection. We were young, naive, and I moved away before I could ever tell him how I felt. He'd been the first person to make me feel truly…seen.
Lost in thought, I almost missed my cue. Snapping back to reality, I focused on the dance, letting the music move through me. But then, I saw him.
The club was full of attractive men, but this one was different. He exuded an aura of quiet power, a magnetic pull that drew my eye. His dark eyes, almost black, seemed to pierce through the smoky haze, holding me captive. His hair, a mix of dark brown and almost black, was styled in a way that somehow conveyed both danger and sophistication. He was… arresting.
But it wasn't just his looks. There was something familiar about him, a buried memory stirring within me. My eyes were drawn to the heavy silver necklace he wore, and the signet ring on his finger. They seemed oddly…familiar. Where had I seen them before?
The song ended, the crowd erupted in applause, and the moment was broken. I left the stage, the clatter of thrown bills a steady rhythm behind me. Even as the other dancers collected the tips, my mind raced. The jewelry… the man… the nagging sense of recognition…
A summons to my supervisor's office shattered my thoughts.
"Rose," she said, leaning back in her chair, her expression knowing. "You have a request."
I sighed inwardly. Private sessions were rarely worth the hassle. "I don't usually…"
"He's offering a million dollars. Just for you." Her eyes gleamed with avarice.
A million? My breath hitched. A million dollars could change my life. "One… million?"
She nodded, tossing me a keycard. "Room 303. He seems… impatient. Five minutes, Rose. Don't disappoint."
My head was spinning. I needed the money. Desperately. I rushed back to my dressing room, adrenaline coursing through me. I pulled out my most daring outfit: a sheer black top that hinted at more than it revealed, a matching skirt, stockings, and vertiginous heels. It was a gamble, but tonight, I was willing to risk it.
As I walked down the hallway, my heart hammered against my ribs. Who was this man who would pay so much for a private dance? Was he a creep? A pervert? Or something else entirely?
I reached Room 303, took a deep breath, and knocked. I slid the keycard into the lock and pushed the door open. The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a circle of flickering candles.
"Uh… hello?" I said, my voice trembling slightly.
A chuckle echoed through the room. Then, he emerged from the shadows. It was the man from the audience, the one with the hypnotic eyes and the unsettlingly familiar jewelry. He was sitting on the edge of the bed, reading a book, impeccably dressed in a tailored suit.
He closed the book, a slow smile spreading across his face. His eyes locked on mine. "Hey there, princess," he said, his voice a low, husky rumble. "Missed me?" He raised an eyebrow, his grin widening.
The blood drained from my face. My voice caught in my throat. "A-Ace?" I stammered, the name a forgotten echo from the past.
His grin widened. "Nice to see you too, baby girl." He rose, his movements fluid and predatory, and walked towards me. He placed his hands on my waist, his touch sending shivers down my spine. "Shall we?" His fingers tightened, his thumb tracing a slow circle on my lower back.
I gasped, my head swimming. After all these years… Ace was standing right in front of me. He was even more handsome, more dangerous than I remembered. This was the boy who gave me roses, the boy who had held my heart in the palm of his hand. But this wasn't the boy I knew. This was a man, a powerful, wealthy man who had sought me out, who knew my name, who was offering me a million dollars. What did he want?
His grip on my waist tightened, pulling me closer. He leaned in, his breath warm against my ear. "Tell me, Hailey," he whispered, using my real name for the first time. "Do you remember the roses?"
I closed my eyes, the memories flooding back. The sweet scent of the flowers, the shy smile of the boy who offered them, the feeling of being cherished, even for a moment.
I opened my eyes, meeting his dark gaze. "Yes, Ace," I said, my voice barely a whisper. "I remember."
What I didn't know was that stepping into that room with Ace was like stepping onto a chessboard, where the stakes were higher than I could ever imagine. And that the man I had known as Ace was only one player in a game far more dangerous than a simple reunion. My past, my present, and my future were about to collide in a way I could never have foreseen.