The bouncer was built like a wall.
Rider and Leena approached the entrance to King's Paradise, the bass from inside vibrating through the concrete beneath their feet. The building looked industrial from the outside—rusted metal, faded paint, windows covered with steel grates. But the line of expensive cars parked along the street told a different story.
The bouncer stepped forward, his hand raised.
"Names," he said.
"Rider Stone," Rider said. "And Leena."
The bouncer pulled out a tablet, his thick fingers swiping across the screen. He scrolled. Frowned. Scrolled again.
"You're not on the list," he said finally.
Rider's jaw tightened. "I was told—"
"You can have a one-day trial," the bouncer interrupted. "Then you gotta become official members if you wanna come back."
He reached into his jacket and pulled out a small card—sleek black plastic with silver lettering. He handed it to Rider.
Rider examined it. The card had the current date printed in the corner, along with a holographic seal and what looked like a QR code. At the top, in bold letters: TRIAL.
"Don't lose it," the bouncer said. "And don't try to fake it. We got counterfeit mechanisms built in. You try to copy it, we'll know."
Rider slipped the card into his pocket. "Understood."
The bouncer stepped aside, pulling open the heavy steel door.
Music poured out—deep, pulsing, primal.
Rider and Leena stepped inside.
***
The warehouse was massive.
Leena stopped just past the entrance, her eyes widening as she took it all in.
The space stretched out before them like a cathedral of vice. High ceilings with exposed beams. Industrial lighting that cast everything in a warm, amber glow. The center of the warehouse was dominated by a raised stage—octagonal, like a fighting ring—with rows of seating arranged in tiers around it.
But it wasn't just the size that shocked her.
It was the people.
There had to be two hundred of them. Maybe more. Men in tailored suits. Women in cocktail dresses and designer heels. Some were seated at tables near the stage, drinks in hand, eyes fixed on the action. Others stood in clusters near the bar, laughing and talking over the music.
And everywhere—everywhere—there was sex.
Not hidden. Not discreet.
Open.
Leena's gaze swept across the room. In one corner, a woman was bent over a table, her dress hiked up around her waist, a man thrusting into her from behind while two others watched. In another, a man sat in a leather chair, a woman on her knees between his legs, her head bobbing rhythmically.
No one seemed to care. No one even looked twice.
"Jesus," Rider muttered beside her.
Before they could move further into the space, a woman approached them.
She was young—mid-twenties, maybe—with dark hair pulled into a sleek ponytail and a body-hugging black dress that left little to the imagination. She carried a tray with two champagne flutes, her smile bright and practiced.
"Welcome to King's Paradise," she said, offering them the glasses. "Compliments of the king."
Rider took one of the glasses, his brow furrowing. "The king?"
"Yes." The woman's smile didn't falter. "He owns the establishment. He's in a very good mood tonight, so everyone gets a free bottle of champagne on the house."
Rider glanced at Leena, then back at the woman. "Can we meet with him?"
"He rarely meets with anyone besides VIP members," the woman said. "But Miss Bell is back now, so that might change things."
"Miss Bell?" Leena asked.
"She handles client relations. She's very good at what she does." The woman tilted her head slightly. "If you'd like, I can put you on the list to meet with her. She'll be in contact with you if she's interested."
Rider's eyes narrowed slightly. "Yes. Put us on the list."
"Of course." The woman pulled a small tablet from her tray and tapped the screen a few times. "Miss Bell will reach out if she has time. In the meantime, enjoy yourselves."
"Of course." The woman pulled a small tablet from her tray and tapped the screen a few times. "Your names?"
"Rider Stone and Leena."
"Perfect." She smiled again. "Miss Bell will reach out if she has time. In the meantime, enjoy yourselves."
She turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Rider took a sip of the champagne. It was expensive—smooth, with a hint of citrus.
"This place," Leena said quietly. "It's..."
"Bigger than I expected," Rider finished.
They moved deeper into the warehouse, weaving through the crowd. The center stage loomed ahead, surrounded by rows of seats marked with small brass plaques: ELITE MEMBERSHIP ONLY.
Rider slowed as they passed a row of private booths along the far wall.
In one, three men sat around a table, papers spread out between them, their voices low and serious. A business deal, Leena realized. Right here, in the middle of all this.
In another booth, three men were fucking a woman.
She was on her hands and knees on the leather couch, her dress bunched around her waist. One man was behind her, gripping her hips as he thrust. Another was in front of her, his hand tangled in her hair as she sucked him. The third stood to the side, stroking himself, waiting his turn.
The woman's moans were audible even over the music.
Leena looked away, her stomach twisting.
This is what Rider wants, she thought. This is the world he's building.
Rider didn't seem fazed. He kept walking, his eyes scanning the room like he was cataloging every detail.
They approached a set of stairs leading to a second level. Leena could see more private boxes up there, their windows tinted, their occupants hidden.
Two bouncers stood at the base of the stairs, their arms crossed.
"Lords membership only," one of them said as Rider approached.
Rider stopped. "We're guests of—"
"Lords membership only," the bouncer repeated, his tone flat.
Rider's jaw tightened, but he nodded. "Understood."
They turned away from the stairs and headed toward a quieter lounge area off to the side. The music was softer here, the lighting dimmer. A few couples sat on plush couches, sipping champagne and talking in low voices.
Leena was about to sit down when she saw him.
Marcus Whitmore.
He was heading up the stairs, a VIP card in his hand. The bouncers stepped aside immediately, letting him pass without a word.
"Marcus!" Rider called out.
Marcus stopped mid-step. He turned, his eyes widening in surprise.
"Rider?" He descended the stairs quickly, his expression shifting from shock to delight. "What the hell are you doing here?"
"Could ask you the same thing," Rider said, shaking his hand.
Marcus glanced at Leena, his smile widening. "And Leena. Good to see you again."
Leena forced a smile. "You too."
Marcus looked between them, his brow furrowing. "Why are you down here? You should be upstairs."
"We don't have access," Rider said. "First time here."
Marcus's eyebrows shot up. "First time? Jesus, Rider. You're missing all the good stuff."
"That's why we're here," Rider said. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about something."
"Oh?" Marcus leaned against the railing, his posture relaxed. "What's on your mind?"
"I'm planning a takeover of Crestfall Health," Rider said. "I need more investors. I was wondering if you'd be interested."
Marcus's smile didn't falter, but his eyes sharpened. "Crestfall Health. That's ambitious."
"I know."
"How much are you looking for?"
"Depends on how many people I can bring in," Rider said. "But I'm thinking twenty million to start."
Marcus whistled low. "That's a lot of capital."
"It's a lot of potential," Rider countered. "Crestfall's undervalued right now. If we move fast, we can triple our investment in two years."
Marcus considered that, his fingers drumming against the railing.
"I'd love to lend some money to you, Rider," he said finally. "But I have a condition."
Rider's expression didn't change. "What condition?"
Marcus's gaze shifted to Leena.
"Give her to me for one week."
Leena's breath caught.
No.
She looked at Rider, her eyes wide, pleading.
Don't do it. Please don't do it.
She remembered Marcus. Remembered the way he liked to play. Rough. Dominant. The kind of man who didn't ask permission, who took what he wanted and left bruises as proof.
She'd been with men like that before. For Rider. Because Rider asked her to.
But that was different.
That was when she was still trying to prove herself. Still trying to earn her place.
Now she was his queen.
Not his property. Not something to be sold like a common whore.
Please, she thought desperately. Please say no.
Rider's jaw tightened. He looked at Marcus, then at Leena.
"No," he said quietly.
Marcus's smile widened, though there was a flicker of disappointment in his eyes. "Shame. She's a hell of a woman."
"She is," Rider agreed. "But she's mine."
Marcus laughed—a short, good-natured sound. "Fair enough. If you ever change your mind, my offer still stands."
"I won't," Rider said.
Marcus clapped him on the shoulder. "Well, good luck with Crestfall. Let me know if you need anything else."
He turned and headed back up the stairs.
Leena exhaled slowly, her hands trembling.
He said no.
Rider's hand found hers, squeezing gently.
"You okay?" he asked.
Leena nodded, though her throat was tight. "Yeah. I'm okay."
They moved back toward the lounge area, finding an empty couch near the edge of the room.
Leena was about to sit when she noticed movement on the stage.
A man was walking out—tall, broad-shouldered, dressed in a sharp black suit. He carried a microphone in one hand and a small remote in the other.
"Who's that?" Rider asked.
Leena turned to see Marcus standing nearby, a fresh drink in his hand.
"That's the game master," Marcus said. "Means the game's about to start."
"What game?" Rider asked.
Marcus grinned. "Love or Lie."
***
The game master's voice boomed through the warehouse.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to tonight's main event!"
The crowd erupted in cheers.
Leena watched as two couples were led onto the stage. They looked nervous—excited, but nervous. The men wore suits. The women wore cocktail dresses.
Behind them, four women were already on stage.
Naked.
Tied up.
Their wrists were bound behind their backs, their legs spread wide, their asses raised in the air. Vibrators were already tucked inside them, the cords trailing down to the game master's hand.
Leena's stomach twisted.
The couples lined up across from each other, a podium between them. The game master held up a stack of cards.
"The rules are simple," he said. "I'll ask you questions about your partner. Get it right, nothing happens. Get it wrong..."
He turned the dial on one of the remotes.
One of the bound women gasped, her body jerking.
"...your squatter gets punished."
The crowd laughed.
Leena looked at Rider. His expression was unreadable.
The game began.
"First question," the game master said. "What's your partner's favorite color?"
The first couple answered correctly. The crowd clapped politely.
The second couple got it wrong.
The game master turned the dial.
The woman tied to their podium moaned, her hips bucking.
The opposing couple stepped forward. The man picked up a paddle from the table and brought it down hard on the woman's ass.
CRACK.
The woman cried out.
The crowd cheered.
Leena felt sick.
She was about to look away when she noticed Marcus.
He was waving over one of the female workers—a petite brunette in a tight black dress.
She approached quickly, her expression neutral.
Marcus flashed his VIP card.
"On your knees," he said.
The woman didn't hesitate. She dropped to her knees in front of him, her hands already reaching for his belt.
Leena's eyes widened.
Right here? In front of everyone?
Marcus leaned back in his chair, his eyes still on the stage as the woman pulled his cock free.
"This is a good game," he said casually, as if nothing unusual was happening. "The questions get harder as it goes on. Really tests how well you know each other."
Rider stared at him. "You're just... doing this? Here?"
Marcus glanced down at the woman, then back at Rider. "All the women here are fair game. As long as you have the right membership."
"Fair game?" Leena's voice was tight.
"Except for Miss Bell and the king's personal assistant," Marcus added. "They're off-limits. But everyone else?" He gestured vaguely. "Part of the experience."
Rider's jaw tightened. "This is blatant prostitution. Illegal gambling. Aren't you worried the police will notice?"
Marcus laughed—a deep, genuine sound.
"Must be your first time in Southside," he said. "There's not a legal bone in this part of town. And even if there was..." He shrugged. "The king has an agreement with the police. As long as we don't cause too much noise or trouble, they look the other way."
Leena felt her stomach drop.
An agreement with the police.
This wasn't just a business. It was a system. Protected. Untouchable.
On stage, the game continued.
Another wrong answer. Another increase in the vibrator's intensity. Another paddle strike.
The bound woman was sobbing now, her body trembling, her thighs slick.
Marcus groaned softly, his hand tangling in the brunette's hair as she worked.
Leena looked away.
A few minutes later, Marcus finished.
The woman pulled back, swallowing, her expression still neutral.
Marcus reached into his pocket and pulled out a thick stack of bills. He peeled off several and handed them to her.
"Big tip tonight," he said. "Place my bet on the couple on the left. They look like they actually know each other."
The woman nodded, tucking the money into her dress.
Marcus slapped her ass as she stood.
SMACK.
She didn't flinch. Just walked away, her heels clicking against the concrete.
Marcus settled back into his chair, his attention returning to the stage.
"This is the best part," he said. "When they're both close. You can see it in their faces—the panic. The desperation."
Leena watched as the game master turned both dials to the highest setting.
The two bound women screamed.
Their bodies convulsed. Their thighs clenched.
And then—
One of them squirted.
Liquid sprayed onto the stage, dripping down her legs.
The crowd erupted.
"And we have a winner!" the game master announced.
Marcus groaned. "Damn it. I bet on the wrong couple."
He stood, brushing off his pants. "Well, that was fun. I'm heading upstairs. You two enjoy yourselves."
He disappeared into the crowd.
Leena sat frozen, her champagne untouched in her hand.
This place…
She was about to say something when she heard a voice behind them.
"Mr. Stone? Ms. Leena?"
They turned.
A woman stood there, smiling.
She was beautiful—tall, with dark hair and sharp eyes. She wore a sleek black dress that hugged her curves, and her posture radiated confidence.
"I heard you wanted to meet me," she said.
Leena's breath caught.
No.
It couldn't be.
But it was.
Bella.