Chapter 4

Bella’s pov

I was halfway through wiping lipstick off the mirror when Sasha slammed her makeup case shut behind me.

“You’re in my fucking spot,” she hissed.

I blinked at her reflection long legs, platinum extensions, flawless skin layered over the sharpness of someone who had survived men and turned cruel because of it.

“I didn’t see your name on the seat,” I said, voice calm.

Wrong move.

Her heels clacking like gunshots on tiles, she took a step closer.

You think you’re special, new girl? Just because you got a few clients in VIP and Max tossed you a necklace?”

I turned to face her. “I don’t think I’m anything.”

She smirked. “No. But they do. And that’s the problem.”

In this location, drama was currency, and I was paying for mine right now.

A couple of the other dancers paused behind her, looking with a mixture of expectation and amusement.

Sasha shoved my shoulder.

It wasn’t a hard hit, but it snapped something in me. Maybe it was the lack of sleep. Or the note in the black box. Or just the rising pressure of being someone else all the time.

I dropped my makeup rag. “Don’t touch me.”

“Or what?”

She shoved again.

This time, I move faster.

My fist hit her face with a terrible crack that echoed across the room.

She shrieked and stumbled back, clutching her nose while blood ran down her fingers.

“you crazy little bitch!” She shrieked

“You touched me first,” I snapped, chest heaving.

She lunged again, but Crystal burst into the room like a thunderstorm in heels.

“What the hell is going on?”

“She broke my nose!”

Crystal didn’t flinch. Her eyes cut to me. “Out. Now.”

*****

Max didn’t say a word when I was led into his office. Just lit a cigar and stared at me through a swirl of smoke.

I stood still. Like prey. Like a girl who knew she’d just fucked up.

“She’s been riding me for days,” I finally said. “ I didn’t start it.”

“you’re not here to fight” he said “ you are to make some fucking money.”

“She hit me first.”

He shrugged “You touched me first,” I snapped, chest heaving.

She lunged again, but Crystal burst into the room like a thunderstorm in heels.

“What the hell is going on?”

“She broke my nose!”

Crystal didn’t flinch. Her eyes cut to me. “Out. Now.”

*****

Max didn’t say a word when I was led into his office. Just lit a cigar and stared at me through a swirl of smoke.

I stood still. Like prey. Like a girl who knew she’d just fucked up.

“She’s been riding me for days,” I finally said.

“I’m not ready,” I whispered

He shrugged again “You weren’t ready for the VIP either. And yet here you are.”

I wanted to scream. To say no.

Instead, I nodded.

Because saying no had never gotten me anywhere.

*****

The dressing room was louder tonight.

Music vibrated through the walls basslines like heartbeats, cheers like waves.

Girls fluttered around like feathers in chaos smoking, laughing, fixing lipstick that had already smudged under someone’s thumb.

I changed into the outfit Crystal handed me.

Barely-there lingerie. Silver heels. A chain around my thigh.

“You look like trouble,” one of the newer girls said with a wink.

I didn’t feel like trouble. I felt like a blade about to break in two.

Crystal approached, checking my straps.

“You pull this off, Max might move you up,” she said. “There’s money out there.”

“There are hands out there too.”

Her eyes softened just enough.

“Don’t let them touch you, they only pay to watch, moreover you don’t belong to them”

I froze at that phrasing. “You don’t belong to them.”

That sentence rings bell

There was only one man who spoke to me like that.

And suddenly, I felt him again.

Watching.

Somewhere.

I ascended the backstage stairs and awaited the signal. As lights whirled in kaleidoscopic rings over the walls and fog generators hissed, my chest constricted.

The MC’s voice echoed across the room.

“Give it up for our rising flame… Bellaaaaa.”

Applause. Whistles. Men chanting like wolves. Some just stared quietly and waiting for me to start.

The spotlight hit me like heat.

I stepped forward.

The crowd faded.

The slow, throbbing, hypnotic music started. The sort of beat that made your spine tingle and urged your hips to move.

So I moved.

At first, I was mechanical. One foot in front of the other. Grip the pole. Swing around it. Bend low. Look up.

Then I saw him.

A man sitting in the far-right booth.

Mask covering half his face.

Grey eyes fixed on me like I was a sin he’d already committed.

My body forgot to breathe

With my own fingers barely perceptible as they moved down the inner of my leg, I glanced back. It wasn't a regular occurrence.

But something about his gaze commanded it.

He didn’t blink.

He didn’t move.

He just stared, slow and deliberate, like undressing me with his mind wasn’t enough.

The music slowed to a crawl. I swayed lower. Arching. Spinning. Twisting in sync with something darker inside me. Something that craved the danger in his stare.

He tilted his head. I licked my lips.

Then winked.

And in that second, something shifted.

It was like electricity snapped between us. My breath caught. My heart stumbled. I felt exposed in a way that wasn’t wearing.

I blinked and he was gone

Just gone.

Like smoke. Like he was never there.

I spun again, forcing my attention back to the crowd. Men cheered louder now. Money rained. Someone threw a glass. The noise felt like static.

But my mind was still with the masked man. Those eyes.

Grey. Familiar. Endless.

*****

Backstage, I peeled the bills from my body and collapsed into the chair, dizzy from adrenaline.

“You killed it,” someone said.

I didn’t answer.

I was too focused on the velvet pouch that had been placed on the makeup table.

No name. Just a note pinned to the outside:

“ You were perfect until you winked at themWatch who you flirt with the next time. They won't have enough time to appreciate it. B.”