Chapter 7 Midnight Call

The club dressing room pulsed with muffled bass and cheap perfume-familiar scents and sounds that clung to my skin like old secrets.

Jalene's heels clicked against the scuffed linoleum as she strutted toward me, her eyes gleaming with nosy curiosity.

"So... how was it?" she asked, voice light but loaded.

I didn't bother turning fully, just met her gaze in the cracked mirror. "What was what?"

She rolled her eyes. "Don't play dumb. Thought your days here were numbered. Word is you've been hanging with high-profile people. Philips even recruited me for one of his hush-hush gigs. Maybe I'll land my own billionaire."

I stilled, the comb in my hand frozen mid-brush. Then I faced her fully. "I thought you were smarter than that."

She smirked, leaning against the vanity like she owned it. "I'm just following in your very expensive footsteps. You never tell me anything anyway."

"Why should I? But since you asked..." I leaned in, lowering my voice just enough. "Nothing good comes from working with Philips. Most of his gigs end with you running half-naked through hotel hallways. He doesn't pull millionaire clients-just cheating cowards needing help to disappear."

Jalene's smirk faltered. "That's dark. You help them do that?"

"Yeah. I can be pretty terrible." I shrugged, unapologetic. "But do I need money that badly? Also yes."

She studied me, arms folded across her chest. "And what do you even do with all that money? Sharon said you're investing. You must be comfortable. So why are you still so desperate for cash?"

I looked at her through the mirror, a shadow of a smile playing at my lips. "Let's just say I'm a greedy little thing. Money doesn't stick around long. And I need a lot of it."

She huffed. "Well, I need money too. So, I'm taking Philips' deal."

I chuckled, bitter and sharp. "Good luck, darling. You'll need every ounce of it to survive Philips. And don't call me when it goes south. I warned you."

Her eyes narrowed. "You're wicked."

"I hear that a lot," I said, tossing my brush into the drawer.

She drifted to the next vanity, pulling out her makeup kit. Silence thickened, broken only by the heartbeat thump of music through the walls.

Then- "I hear Sharon dropped the public pole. She's doing private rooms now. How'd she land that?"

I shrugged. "How should I know?"

Her tone turned accusing. "That has nothing to do with you, right?"

I kept my face neutral. "No."

"Show me how to convince them I'm ready to go private."

I scoffed. "You're not. You're too scared to give up your public slot. Afraid someone will steal your front-row spot."

She bit her lip. "Not wrong. I just... I'm not good at anything else. If I leave, no one will even notice."

"That's why I keep telling you-learn something else. You can't keep stripping forever."

She gave a sad little laugh. "Not all of us have brains that work like yours."

I raised an eyebrow. "You do. You just don't use them. Go get that aesthetician certificate I told you about."

"Half the girls here have one. They're still dancing."

"Yeah. But they don't want out. You do."

Her mouth opened, then closed again. She deflated, curling in on herself.

The music kept thumping, but my thoughts drifted to Grant. The rejection. The silence. The chaos beneath the surface of the Pembroke world. It twisted my stomach into knots.

Then the door burst open.

I turned sharply.

Felix strutted in like he owned the place, that smug look glued to his face.

I rolled my eyes. "What now? Thought you were busy breaking in some new recruit."

"Hi, boss!" Jalene chirped, ever the kiss-up.

"Hi, mama," Felix said, but his gaze zeroed in on me, grin wide and off-kilter.

Something wasn't right.

I crossed my arms. "What's with the creepy smile?"

"You're a genius," he said, smirking harder.

A chill crept down my spine. When Felix thought something was good, it usually meant it was really bad.

"What's this about?" I asked, stepping away from the mirror.

Felix lowered his voice, leaning in. "Mark called. Said to call him ASAP."

My pulse jumped. I grabbed my phone and dialed.

Static hissed through the line before Mark's strained voice broke through. "Please-come-right-now-to Grant's comp-"

"Grant's company. Got it." I hung up before he could say more.

"Thanks, Felix," I muttered, turning on my heel.

"Hey! Hold up! I rushed here for you!"

"I'll pay you tomorrow!"

I glanced at the mirror-my makeup wasn't a disaster, thank God-snatched my bag, and bolted.

Jalene called after me, but her voice faded into the noise.

I checked my watch. 11 PM.

Why the hell was I being summoned this late?

The Pembrokes never called unless it meant trouble-or a mess they wanted cleaned up in silence.

I hovered my thumb over the location share button. But... who would I even send it to?

No one.

That thought made me feel colder than the night air as I stepped into it.

I reached the massive black tower-Grant's fortress of glass and secrets. The lobby lights were off. The street around me, silent.

I dialed Mark again.

"I'm downstairs."

"Coming," he said. Then silence.

Seconds later, he appeared and pushed the door open for me. No greeting. No expression.

Just motioned for me to follow.

No words. Not even a glance back.

His silence felt heavy. Intentional.

Questions clawed at my throat, but I swallowed them.

What could be waiting for me in that building at this hour?

And yet-I followed.

Because something told me... this was only the beginning.