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He shrugs. “Lots of guys want you. I’ve always turned them down before. But this guy, well, he’s good for business. I’ve earned a lot from him, and I’d like to keep him sweet, so if you give him a little extra, I wouldn’t be too upset, either.”

Good for business. Does he want me to entertain Cal or Mark? I gulp, my flesh crawling at the mere idea of it.

What would Cade think when he found out I was forced to do this? He’d lose any respect for me, no doubt. Would he rescind his offer? He might always be trying to crack my outer shell, but will this make him stop? Will this make him hate me?

“I-I don’t know what to do in there. I’ve never—”

He raises his hand, stopping me from embarrassing myself and begging anymore. It’s not like it will make a difference. “Ask one of the girls. They’ll tell you, but it’s pretty self-explanatory once you engage that college-educated brain of yours.”

“Do you want me to have sex with him?” My voice is barely a whisper, but the weight of the question hangs between us like a ticking bomb.

Luke snorts, shaking his head. “Do you really think I’d offer up one of my best girls for sex?” His gaze hardens, daring me to challenge him.

Yes. Yes, I do. It’s only a matter of time, but I bite my tongue, knowing better than to say it out loud.

“You show them a good time like you do on stage,” he continues smoothly, his tone all business.

“But this way, you can get more… intimate.” He pauses, watching me closely, letting the words settle like a threat.

“The guy knows the rules. You can touch him all you want. He can’t touch you under any circumstance. ”

I swallow. I’m definitely going to puke at any second. “H-how would you know if he did? We’re in a private room.”

“There’s a camera in the corner.” His smirk is slow and knowing. “Cal will watch and make sure everything goes to plan.”

So it’s not Cal, but that doesn’t stop the cold shiver from running down my spine. My world feels like it’s collapsing in on itself, the walls of this place closing tighter and tighter around me.

I don’t want to do this.

I don’t want to face Cade after doing this.

But do I have a choice?

“No.” The word escapes before I can stop it, firm and final, and for a fleeting second, it feels incredible, but then I see the slow curl of his lips, the easy grin that doesn’t reach his eyes, and my stomach plummets.

I’ve pissed him off, something I’ve never done before, and I know I’ve made a huge mistake.

“Like I said, girlie. You don’t have a choice.

” He sounds almost amused, but the undercurrent of venom is unmistakable.

“You have a debt to pay.” Luke takes a slow step closer, his presence suffocating.

“If I see you doing anything other than making this guy’s night, I’ll increase your interest to match the rest of the girls.

You think you owe me now? Wait until you cross me.

” He tilts his head, his smirk sharpening into something cruel.

“And the only way to pay off that kind of debt?” He leans in.

“Is through a whole lot of favors for me.”

Favors.

The words feel like a heavy stone in my stomach, and I know why he’s doing this. This isn’t about the money. It never was. This is punishment. A warning for pushing him after he stole my hockey tickets. It’s his way of reminding me I have no control.

I should’ve known better and seen this coming. I opened the door for him to change the deal, and now there’s no shutting it.

He checks his watch, tapping the face like he’s already bored with this conversation. “If you aren’t in Door One in five minutes, I’ll come in and personally escort you.” His voice is calm, detached, but the promise beneath it sends ice down my spine. “Do you understand?”

I clench my jaw, looking away as my vision blurs with unshed tears. I nod furiously, swallowing the lump rising in my throat. I just want him gone. I need him to leave so I can fall apart in peace.

Behind my closed eyes, I listen to his heavy footsteps retreating, each one slow and deliberate, like he’s giving me time to stew in my own misery. The door creaks open, and I hold my breath, waiting for the moment he’s finally out of my space.

But relief is fleeting.

“Oh, and, Savannah.”

His voice slides through the air like a blade, slicing through the fragile hold I have on my emotions.

“Mhm,” I manage, barely more than a sound.

“Wear the red wig. This guy loves you in it.”

My stomach clenches, bile creeping up my throat as I nod again, biting down on my bottom lip so hard I taste blood. I don’t trust myself to speak.

The door clicks shut, sealing me in my own personal hell.

My fists tighten, my knuckles turning white before I snap. I slam my hand against the vanity. Sharp pain jolts through my arm, but it’s nothing compared to the fury boiling inside me.

It doesn’t matter. None of this fucking matters.

I have Cade. I have someone who actually wants to help me.

But I also have Luke. I have a mountain of debt that will never go away because every time I come close to paying it off, he finds a way to add more.

To him it’s a game, and I’m nothing more than a number in his books. My life means nothing. I mean nothing.

I take a slow, steady breath, forcing myself to pull it together. Falling apart won’t help me. Crying won’t change anything. Luke doesn’t care. He never has. The only way to get over this moment is to go through it. Get it done with and pretend it hasn’t affected me.

I grab the red wig with numb fingers and adjust it over my real hair like a mask—because that’s all it is. A costume. A persona. A way to get through the next hour without completely losing myself.

Trying to work off my debt has done shit. No matter how hard I push myself, Luke finds a way to keep me chained here. If I want out, I need a different tactic. Something smarter. Something permanent. Because I can’t do this while I have Adley to take care of. She deserves better. I deserve better.

I swipe at the tears running down my face, barely registering the makeup smudging away. It doesn’t matter. The lights in those rooms are low, and whoever is waiting for me in there isn’t here for my eyeliner. He’s here for the show. One I have no choice but to give it to him.

I force one foot in front of the other, walking down the stairs with a blank, numb expression. Luke watches me pass and smirks with satisfaction, but I meet his gaze with a glare of my own. He knows he’s won this round. I know it too. But I won’t let him see how much it destroys me.

Pushing past the heavy curtain, I step into the hallway where Luke carved out his own version of hell—four small rooms, each designed for one purpose and one purpose only. A place where his clients can pay to indulge their fantasies with whichever girl they choose.

And tonight, someone chose me.

My stomach churns at the thought, bile creeping up my throat. I don’t want to go in there. Every cell in my body is screaming for me to run, to claw my way out of this place and never look back, but there’s no way Luke would let me leave alive.

I just want to be free, but when was the last time I felt that?

Not here. Not in my car. Nowhere. Except… with Cade.

His name flashes through my mind, bringing a sliver of comfort before it twists into something else entirely. Dread. Panic.

But how do I tell the one person who makes me feel safe that I walked willingly into the fire? That when he picks me up tonight, I’ll be half the person I was when he left? That no matter how hard I try to wash this away, it’ll still be there, staining me from the inside out?

I swallow hard, blinking rapidly as I reach for the doorknob.

“Savannah.”

Luke’s voice cuts through the haze in my mind, making me flinch. He’s still watching. Still waiting.

I force my shoulders back, inhaling slowly, but the breath barely makes it into my lungs.

Right. The only way I survive this is the same way I always have—I go somewhere else in my mind.

Somewhere safe. I imagine Cade. I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again.

His voice, his touch, the way he looks at me like I’m worth something.

I hold onto that, gripping it like a lifeline as I curl my fingers around the doorknob.

One step. Then another. I step inside.

The door clicks shut behind me, sealing me in. My eyes stay shut. If I don’t look, maybe I can get through this without seeing him. Maybe I can pretend it’s not happening.

I take a hesitant step forward, relying on muscle memory to walk in a straight line, my pulse hammering in my ears.

Then something hits me.

Not fear. Not dread.

Chicken?

The scent fills the room, rich and familiar, like someone just walked in carrying a takeout box from the diner.

My brow furrows, my pulse stuttering in confusion.

“What took you so long?”

My breath catches. That voice. That voice does not belong to some faceless client.

My eyes snap open.

Oh my God.

Have I officially lost my mind?