Athena's POV:
My eyes were fixed on the polished black and brown shoes that stepped into the room. I refused to look up and meet their gazes; if I did, I might start to think they were following me.
Focus, Athena. I forced them out of my mind and poured a drink for Mr. Anderson. As I passed it to him, his fingers brushed against my hand. My entire body stiffened, and my teeth gritted. I didn't realize I possessed this much patience. He took the glass, brought it to his lips, and took a slow sip before smiling at me again.
"Let's let bygones be bygones. I mean... it was my mistake last time," he said. My brows furrowed. Seriously?
"I mean, you are no ordinary girl, Athena. How could I offer you only a thousand dollars? That's a slap to your worth."
Oh, right. I gave a dry chuckle and shifted my gaze to the girls dancing around the pole. The fair-skinned one had a great body; if I were thinking strictly about business, I'd approach her to dance at my club. But that wasn't how I hired my girls and these girls probably earn more than what the girls at my club did.
"How about you name your price?" the idiot next to me suggested. I cleared my throat as he leaned down, filled another glass, and shoved it toward me. I knew it came from the same bottle he was drinking from, so it likely wasn't drugged, but I knew better than to trust anything here.
To be polite, I took the wine but simply held the glass. "I am not interested in your money," I said clearly.
He smiled widely, exposing teeth that I knew wouldn't survive a single punch from me. "I checked up on you, Athena. You live in Parcour. In a penthouse. You drive a Porsche. Come on—do you really expect everyone to believe that running a little downstreet club pays for all that?"
My grip on the glass tightened. In an attempt to look anywhere but at him, my eyes landed on Damon Royal. They weren't sitting close to us, but he was there at the far end, positioned in the shadows with his friends, a glass of wine in his hand. If I hadn't been staring intently, I wouldn't have noticed that he was staring right back at me.
When our gazes met, he didn't even look away. What was his problem?
"You want to offer me money so I can pleasure you in bed?" I asked, my voice laced with amusement as I realized he was shifting closer.
"Yes. I will offer you whatever amount you want. If you want exclusivity, I'll grant that. I could pay for monthly trips to Paris—wherever you wish to go," he explained shamelessly. My lips curled in disgust.
Men with money.
"And if I say no?" I turned to face him, only to realize he was now sitting so close that his thigh was grazing mine.
He licked his lips. "Then say goodbye to that low-class club of yours. But I have a feeling you didn't come all the way here just to say no." His hand settled on my thigh. I stared at his fingers for a moment before meeting his eyes.
"Take your hand off me," I warned through gritted teeth. He just chuckled, ignoring the warning. He brought his face close to mine, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Damon stand up from his chair.
"Thanks for seeing me." I shoved Mr. Anderson back and stood up abruptly. At my movement, Damon's steps halted. I didn't need a man to save me, if that was what he was attempting to do.
Mr. Anderson's face twisted, every ounce of amusement vanishing. "Sit down."
"No."
"Slut," he spat. I actually laughed. I turned to leave, feeling satisfied; I already had my recording.
"Stop right there, you slut!" he barked. I had no intention of stopping until he screamed, "Thief! Where is security? This lady is stealing from me!"
What the fuck?
The doors burst open, and two muscular men in black suits stepped in. I turned back to Mr. Anderson, who was busy rubbing his mustache.
"Stop her from leaving," he ordered the guards. This was a gentleman's club; the guards listened to the men. Most importantly, this was the Platinum section, meaning only the powerful were here. The guards knew better than to defy the members.
They took a step toward me, and I took one back. I looked around the room; the other men were watching as if this were the best show of their lives. I glanced back toward Damon, but he was sitting down again.
No one is coming to save you, Athena.
I folded my arms over my chest before walking right back up to Mr. Anderson. "What is your problem, old man? Do you have an erection problem or something? Go hire a someone else to take care of it and stop annoying me," I snapped, finally letting my anger out. I hated getting worked up, but this man was an expert at finding my fuse.
His jaw clenched. I knew he felt insulted, especially in front of the men he'd been trying to impress.
"What did you say?" he snarled, standing up. He was a full foot shorter than me. He was pathetic.
"I said exactly what I said. Tell these men to let me pass."
He laughed, realizing the power was still in his hands. He began to circle me, but I didn't flinch. I would hurt him before he even had the chance to try hurting me. I had survived much worse than being cornered by an old man and two security guards. I didn't know exactly how I'd get out, but I knew I wouldn't be the one bleeding at the end of the night.
"Fine. You want to leave? Good. But first, give us a little performance." He pointed toward the stage where the other girls had stopped dancing. "My friends... this woman is the best exotic dancer I know. She can make even a man with erectile dysfunction get a hard-on!"
The men around the room burst into laughter. One even raised a hand. "Ten thousand dollars for the lady if she makes me hard!"
I felt tears of frustration sting my eyes as they laughed. They thought this was a joke. I turned fully to face Mr. Anderson.
"You will regret this," I said, my fists clenched. His hand came up, and I knew he was either going to hit me or grab me. I slammed my hand into his chest and pushed him so hard he fell flat on his backside.
Gasps echoed through the lounge, but I didn't care. The security guards were lunging for me. I dipped my hand into my purse, grabbed my pepper spray, and sprayed it directly into the face of the first guard. As the second one hesitated, I shoved past him and bolted for the door.
"The lady! Get the lady!" I heard Mr. Anderson's frantic yell, and suddenly, every eye in the club was on me.
I hurried past the snooker tables, my heart hammering against my ribs as I saw even more guards filling the room. Spotting another door at the opposite end, I lunged for it and shoved it open. I found myself in a changing room, where several girls stood frozen, staring at me with wide, startled eyes.
"Is there an exit here?" I managed to gasp out. Behind me, the heavy thud of approaching footsteps echoed. Without hesitation, the girls all pointed toward a small door at the far end of the room. They were absolute sweethearts for helping me. I didn't waste a second; I bolted through the door and found myself in a long, quiet corridor.
"Hey! You can't come in here!" I heard the girls shouting at the security guards who must have reached the changing room. They were busy distracting them, buying me precious seconds. I sprinted down the hallway, my mind racing. A place this big couldn't just have one elevator. There had to be another way out.
The corridor was eerily silent, lined with several doors. I tried the handles as I passed, but they were all locked. Honestly, I didn't really want to go through them anyway; they might have just led me right back into the main club. Finally, I spotted an elevator at the very end of the hall. I slammed my finger onto the button, and just as the doors began to slide open, I saw the guards rounding the corner, running toward me.
I leaped inside, but my eyes widened when I looked at the panel. There was only one button in the entire elevator. How was that even possible?
I pressed it regardless, and the doors slowly began to hum shut. One guard was inches away, reaching out to block the sensor, but I stepped forward and sprayed my pepper spray through the narrowing gap. I heard them coughing and cursing, and then, finally, the doors clicked shut.
Now, where was I even going? Where would this damn elevator take me?
I felt my own eyes begin to sting from the spray I'd used just moments ago. Tears started to roll down my cheeks, and I bit my bottom lip hard to keep it together. Now wasn't the time to break down.
When the elevator finally dinged, I stepped out cautiously. I found myself looking down a narrow, silent corridor that looked like an emergency exit or a service tunnel. My head snapped back toward the elevator just as the doors started to close again. I panicked and hurried back inside before they could lock. There was no way I was letting this elevator head back down—not until I was certain I'd found a real way out.