Chapter 2 2.

6 years later...

Night had fallen, casting its inky veil upon the world. A slender crescent moon shimmered like a silvery claw in the vast expanse of the sky, its presence signaling the midnight hour. The sprawling cityscape stretched across the horizon, a labyrinth of buildings standing tall and resolute. The deserted streets lay empty, devoid of life, while the storefronts offered no enticing displays to captivate passersby. Fatigued from a long day, people had long since retreated to the comfort of their homes. Only the distant barking of dogs dared to break the silence of the nocturnal stillness.

Meanwhile, a group of audacious and reckless teenagers indulged in a daring race, their extravagant vehicles defying the night as they zoomed through the streets. Yet, they halted at traffic signals, mindful of not adding further burden to their already preoccupied parents and guardians.

At the destination, a sleek and opulent Maserati came to a stop, its elegant doors opening to reveal a man clad in a tailored tuxedo, sporting a black aviator on his handsome feature. With purposeful strides, he made his way towards the VIP entrance, presenting his invitation to the vigilant security guard. Guided by an elderly man in his fifties, he was led to the designated location where an important deal was to transpire.

"Welcome, Mr. Romano," the old man greeted with deference.

"Thank you, Mr. Ivanov. I trust that you and your team have executed every detail flawlessly," Romano's voice resonated with authority and the confidence for which he was renowned.

"Everything is impeccably in order," Mr. Ivanov assured him.

"And what of the Russian police and the FBI?"

"They have been taken care of," Mr. Ivanov replied assuredly.

"Very well, let us commence."

Lawyers from both sides meticulously scrutinized the documents and contracts, signaling their approval to Mr. Ivanov, and finally presenting a pen and file to Mr. Romano. With a stroke of his pen, he signed the agreement, and then passed it to Mr. Ivanov for his signature.

"Congratulations, the weapons will be delivered in their entirety by next week. Rest assured, the girls shall remain anonymous. Who will present at the sight?" Romano questioned later.

"And as for our local presence, my son and his secretary will oversee the proceedings," Mr. Ivanov confirmed.

"Hope everything go as dictated," Mr. Romano spoke in a firm tone.

"Yes, they are well-prepared, and you need not worry. They are currently attending some urgent matters," Mr. Ivanov assured him.

"Very well."

With their business concluded, the celebration commenced, accompanied by glasses of merlot raised in toast. Engaging in further discussions, they exchanged handshakes before making their way towards the elevator. Ascending to the first floor, Romano's attention was drawn to a gathering of approximately a hundred individuals, their raucous cheers and whistles heralding the arrival of a special performer.

"Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome the heart of today's event," announced the emcee. From the backstage of the dance floor emerged a woman, gracefully assuming her position upon a suspended aerial hoop. Taking deep breaths to focus, she enveloped the atmosphere in a serene calmness, as if all other humans had vanished, leaving only her and the music. The ethereal melody began to play, and she moved with an impeccable grace, her body intertwining seamlessly with the rhythm. Like a serpent ensnaring its prey, she swayed and twirled, her movements an embodiment of flawless synchronization. She was a sky-ballet dancer, captivating in every sense.

For Romano, time seemed to stand still as his gaze became ensnared by her bewitching presence. It was as if she possessed an otherworldly magnetism, deliberately drawing his attention and time towards her. Yet, he was not alone in his captivation; every men in the hall was helplessly spellbound by her allure. Half-concealed by a mask, her face remained elusive to the audience, while her form was adorned with a white net dress that accentuated her every movement. Her lips mouthed the lyrics of the song, a half-hidden smile gracing her enigmatic features. A surge of desire coursed through Romano's veins, his own arousal evident as his trousers betrayed a hardened response.

"She is a captivating, irresistible, and celestial creature," he thought, his mind intoxicated by her enchantment.

After five minutes of enrapturing the audience, the final and most anticipated performance drew to a close. She hastily departed the stage, as if aware that lingering for a moment longer might invite undesired consequences. A groan escaped Romano's lips, his disappointment at the fleeting nature of the entertainment palpable. He signaled the man who had introduced her, inquiring about her availability.

"What is her price?" he asked eagerly.

"Who are you referring to?"

"The woman who just performed."

"Oh, her. She is not a prostitute; she is merely a dancer," the man clarified.

"Price," Romano reiterated firmly.

"Apologies, sir, but she handles her own clientele. No one interferes with her business. She only performs here at her discretion and receives generous compensation. However, I can provide you with her contact information, should you wish to reach out to her," the man offered, providing Romano with her contact number before departing.

An urgent desire surged within Romano, an insatiable craving to possess her for a single night. With devilish thoughts brewing in his mind, he left the premises, heading towards his car. He was consumed by the idea of claiming her, even if only for a night. He longed to see her face, to ravish her completely. A single night would be of no consequence to him. Whether she was a dancer or a prostitute mattered little; he simply yearned for her presence, if only for a fleeting moment.