Aliyah's p.o.v

I filled up my water bottle, already dressed for the day's jogging. I need this more than ever, I needed fresh air to think. “Ain't you jogging today,” I yelled the question out to Eva who was obviously still on the bed.

“No I'm sitting this one out,” she called out, her voice muffled but I could still hear her. I took in a sigh of relief, basking in the thought of having alone time to myself and also happy we won't have to endure an awkward jogging session.

Our relationship has been strained since yesterday, she was obviously still pissed as to why I would decline the offer. But as much as I wanted this as well, being desperate to a man like Brown would seem suspicious. I needed to play my cards right.

The fresh air hit me as I stepped outside. I started jogging, slow at first a warm-up then letting the rhythm take me: left, right, left, right. The town was waking,a dog barked twice and fell quiet.

My thoughts tried to line themselves up: the Marinos, My night jobs at the club,Ottavio's intense stares,the memory of his hand on my throat at the club like a bruise I couldn't quite rub away.

For a while my breath and my feet were all that mattered.I counted paces, let the anger cool into something harder and more useful. Good. This was the kind of thinking I needed.

Two blocks down I noticed him. I'm being followed.

At first he looked like any other early-morning runner: hoodie up, earphones tucked in, a water bottle in his hand. Ordinary. But ordinary people do not match your turns with the obsessive precision of a shadow.

He took the same side-street, paused where I paused, turned when I turned. The hoodie hid his face, but not his intent.

My pulse quickened,not from the run. I reduced my pace and glanced back. He did too, a little too quickly, like someone caught mid-adjustment. A prickle crawled up the back of my neck.

I kept going. He kept going. The alley ahead narrow gap between a bakery and a boarded-up shop seemed to be my only hope. A dozen small, selfish thoughts flew through my head;run faster, call Eva, ignore him. Pride beat the rest down. If he thought I’d run, he’d know he could push.

I ducked into the alley and slid behind a low block of crumbling concrete, letting the bricks hide me. The morning light burst in, He passed the mouth of the alley, again too close, again looking straight ahead. He slowed, checked his phone, pretended to tie his shoelace. The whole performance was calculated.

When he passed again another loop, another turn I moved without thinking. I jumped on him, and in a split second, I kneaded him on his groin.

The stalker groaned and crouched down holding his manhood in pain, the movement causing the hood to fall back an inch. Brown eyes. Dark. Too familiar.

“You,” I spat almost in disbelief. “Why the fuck are you following me,”

Ottavio groaned, teeth clenched, still clutching his groin like I’d shattered his soul. “Jesus, woman,” he rasped. “That’s the second time you’ve gone for the same spot. You got a personal vendetta against my future kids, or what?”

I folded my arms, glaring down at him. “Maybe I just like watching you suffer.”

He hummed low despite his pain, finally straightening up. The sound grated on me deep, irritating, almost smug. “Figures. You enjoy this a little too much.”

“Answer my question,” I snapped. “Why are you following me like some creep?”

Ottavio rolled his shoulders, adjusting his hoodie. My eyes dropped to his broad chest which gripped the hoodie like it would rip any moments from now.

Fuck the man is hot.

His dark eyes locked on mine, sharp and unflinching. “Relax, belladonna. If I wanted to grab you, you wouldn’t have seen me coming.”

“Try me,” I shot back, chin high.

He smirked at my defiance, then leaned in slightly, lowering his voice so only I could hear. “You’ve made an impression on Brown. He wants to see you.”

My heart stilled, but I masked it quickly, forcing my face into a bored expression. “Bold of your boss to think I’d come running at his feet.”

Ottavio tilted his head, studying me like I was an equation he already knew the answer to. “That’s the thing. I know your type. You like to act like you don’t have your eyes set on the prize, like you want to be chased. But at the end…” His lips curved into a knowing smirk. “…you’ll cave.”

The insult burned deeper than I expected. My jaw tightened, my fists curled, and for a second I actually wanted to slap him. Irritated at myself for thinking he was hot earlier. A strong urge to defend myself coiled up in me but I didn't cave, I couldn't. It's better he thinks of me as a social climber than he figures out my real intent.

I rolled my eyes at him, choosing to ignore his words. I saw his hand clench at his side at my reaction and for the first time this morning, I smirked. “What? The Almighty Mafia messenger hates eye rolls,” he pressed his lips together.

His lips curved, slow and deliberate. “Careful, belladonna… keep rolling those eyes at me, and I’ll give you a reason to keep them shut.”

Wait, does he mean…Is he flirting.

A violent shiver skittered down my spine, heat rushing treacherously low.

He reached into his pocket, then I bent down to pick up my water bottle which I had dropped when I'd lunged but when I rose his gaze was locked on my chest with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

I moved to go farther away from him.

He didn’t move. Instead, he reached into his pocket once more and, with a fast motion, produced a single card. He held it out like it was an offering.

When our hands touched just a brush something jolted through me so sharp my knees almost forgot how to stand. His palm was cool and steady. The card was gold embroidery, the name printed in commanding script: Brown’s birthday party. The date. The address. A pass.

I closed my fingers around it. Then I moved to leave again but Ottavio's words stopped me. “Knead me in my dick again and I'll make you experience the asset you intend to destroy.”

Proud motherfucker.

“I’d rather fuck my fingers for a whole day than experience your asset,” with those final words, I jogged off.

****

The club walls vibrated with loud music, the buzz and booze adding to the background activity in this strip club. My gaze shifted to a man visibly stroking his cock to a stripper dancing before him. In the far end, another was sweating profusely, his hands clamped together before him, like he was begging the stripper for relief.

There was something different about this strip club. I could feel it right from when Emilia,my friend from the other club, had told me they had few empty slots to be filled. She had moved here when she informed me.

Emilia was under the impression that I have a sick father who needs to get surgery and that's the reason why I strip. I made her believe I would need extra money by stripping in multiple clubs at once and since then she has taken empathy for me and given me information almost every weekend about new strip clubs I should work for and the ones I should avoid.

Trust me, I always go to the ones I was advised to avoid first.

When she told me the number one rule of this club, I wanted in at any cost: No touching without permission.

If a stripper consents, she would press a button on her necklace which would pop out green.

Different indeed. And different is the perfect key I need in finding what I lost in the hands of these men.

Julia. My main reason for existence.

Jumping from one strip club to another isn't a choice, it's a must. I try to infiltrate each club as carefully as ever and see if they got what I want. If they don't, I leap over to the next.

“Raven,” Emilia called over the music, jolting me from my thoughts.

Raven…my stage name and the only name Emilia knows.

She pulled me in for a hug. “You are late, the employment procedure is about to start.”

My heart skipped. I mustn't miss this chance, I have high hopes for this club. Seventy percent positive they have Julia. “Show me the way please,” I said, not bothering about pleasantries.

She led me through a dark hallway, away from the booze in the party. Then we cut through to another corner, there we came across five other girls, they seemed to be murmuring as a guard tower over them.

He was passing on some news. I quickly joined the line, the guard’s eyes dropped to mine disapprovingly and Emilia gripped me tighter in fear. But he continued what he was saying.

“The boss is going to come in late today,” his voice boomed, the music booming in the background making him sound like he was shouting.

He waited for the girl's murmurs to die out before he continued. “But, for your time, the boss has requested that we give you girls a test performance and see how you do it. Remember only two slots are available. Go to the dressing room and change. Most importantly wait till you are called.”

He said and quickly shut the door like he was avoiding further questions.

“What does test performance mean,” I whispered to Emilia and she shrugged.

“During my time I wasn't told to do that,”she clarified. “But girl, do whatever you can to get in. Rave With Jay pays well trust me. Do it for your father.” She leaned in closer like she was scared of her next word. “I heard they have an underground sex club.”

I stiffened.

The stakes are getting higher here.Julia must be on either end.

The strip club or the sex club.

I must get in.