What is he doing here? I asked myself. The question lingered, and for a moment, I wondered why he hadn’t done anything but stare at me. I mean, it’s not every day you see your ex’s father at a club. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt with black trousers, a suit jacket draped over his arm. He looked taller in real life than in the news on TV.

I turned my face, not wanting to look at him anymore. After all, he was one of the reasons Alex divorced me. He was in his fifties and already desperate for a grandchild. A wealthy, strict business tycoon—what the hell was he doing in this club? Alex never visited clubs. Or wait, maybe he did, and I just never knew. Of course, what do you expect from the son of Mr. Dane?

As I sat there, lost in my thoughts, I felt a hand on my shoulder. When I turned to see who it was, there he was—the man with a touch of gray in his hair, still looking strong and handsome, standing beside me.

“Is everything okay?” he asked as he sat down beside me.

I nodded, not wanting to engage in conversation with him. He didn’t know me. He didn’t care to. But I knew him. All he cared about was that his son had a wife, and that wife’s job was to bear him a grandson. He never checked on me. We’d never met face-to-face. I’d only seen him in photos and on social media—until today.

“Well, everything doesn’t seem to be,” he said coolly. “A drink, please,” he ordered from the bartender, who seemed tense in his presence, making me wonder why.

“Two glasses,” he added. Immediately, the bartender poured whiskey into two glasses. Mr. Dane took one, downed it in one go, and placed the glass back on the counter. I could see the smoke curling from his nose. That whiskey was strong.

“By the way, what’s a girl of your caliber doing in a club like this? I mean, you don’t look like the kind of girl who’d go clubbing on her own,” he said.

He was right. I wasn’t that type of girl. “I came here with my friend,” I said.

“A friend? And where is she?” he asked.

“On the dance floor,” I replied, trying to avoid eye contact.

“Do you mind?” he said, picking up the other glass of whiskey and offering it to me.

I shook my head slightly, unsure whether to accept. I’d heard Mr. Dane was a man who didn’t take no for an answer.

“Oh, come on, it’s just a drink,” he teased. “Just one. Just a glass.”

I smiled faintly and took it. Without wasting a second, I drank it all down. I slammed the glass on the counter with a heavy thud, shutting my eyes as the alcohol burned through my chest. My eyes were already turning red. This was stronger than the concoction the bartender had mixed for me earlier.

I turned and stared at Mr. Dane, my mouth sour. He was blurry in my vision but then came into focus. “Shit,” I cursed under my breath. I was drunk. If I took another shot, I wouldn’t make it home alone.

“Come with me,” he said, standing up from the stool and walking toward a door at the far end of the club.

I stood up, staggering, struggling to regain my balance, and slowly followed him. The bartender kept staring as we walked, which made my skin crawl. Why was he staring like that?

When I reached the door where Mr. Dane stood, he pulled it open. A long hallway appeared, lined with several rooms on each side. He walked inside and waited for me to do the same before shutting the door tight. I was having mixed feelings about following him now. Where was he taking me? I asked myself, my heart beating faster than I intended.

As we walked down the hallway, I heard sounds—strange sounds. People were moaning, and I could hear what sounded like someone being spanked. Was that what…? No, no way. Mr. Dane was a man with self-respect. There was no way he’d be involved in that.

He stopped in front of a room labeled “VIP,” opened the door, and gestured for me to come in. I stared at him, unsure whether to follow. Part of me screamed to turn around and run as far as I could, but another part told me to stay, to follow him. I heaved a heavy sigh and walked into the room as he closed the door behind us.

The room was eerily dark. I couldn’t see anything. Then the lights flicked on—Mr. Dane had found the switch. But that was the least of my concerns. The luxury of the room made my jaw drop.

Tiled floors, a large bed, a chandelier sparkling on the ceiling, expensive furniture, and that smell—lavender. It was the kind of luxury I’d lost when I left Alex. I never thought I’d see something like this again.

As I stood in awe, Mr. Dane walked toward the bed and tossed his suit jacket onto it. He slipped off his shoes and then turned, walking toward me.

I swallowed hard. What the hell did this man think he was doing?

I backed up until there was no more space, pinned against the wall. He came closer, mere inches from where I stood.

“I’ll make things simple, woman. I’ll go straight to the point. I brought you here because I want something.”

Want something? I thought to myself. What could he possibly want from someone like me? He was rich. He had it all—the life, the fame, the money, and soon, his grandchild. So what the heck did this man want?

“Wha… what… what is it you want, sir?” I stammered, looking down, avoiding eye contact. He stepped closer, his face inches from mine. I fidgeted with the shaky red gown I was wearing, so tense I could feel my heart pounding like I’d run a hundred miles.

“I want… you”