Chapter 3

Callie Fry POV:

Kane's voice was quiet, but it cut through the boisterous noise of the room like a razor. Everyone froze.

"Get out," he said, his eyes scanning the faces of my former friends. It wasn' t a request. It was a command laced with cold, unmistakable authority.

The men scrambled to their feet, their bravado evaporating in an instant. Leo Vance, the one who'd been so eager to see me humiliated, didn't even make eye contact as he scurried past. He did, however, have the audacity to scoop his black card off the table before he left.

The room emptied, leaving only the two of us in a heavy, suffocating silence. The air thrummed with unspoken things.

Kane released my elbow, but his presence was a physical weight, pinning me in place. He looked me up and down, his gaze lingering on the cheap, tight dress, the smudged makeup, the desperation I knew was written all over my face.

"Are you that desperate for money, Callie?" he asked, his voice dangerously soft.

"What do you think, Kane?" I snapped, a surge of bitter anger overriding my fear. "You think I'm doing this for fun?"

He tilted his head, a slow, deliberate movement. "Don't call me that."

"What? Kane? It's your name."

He took a step closer. "The way you say it. Like it's something dirty in your mouth."

I started to back away, needing to put space between us. "I should get back to work. I'm sure you and your friends will want more champagne."

He watched me, his dark eyes unblinking. It was the same look he'd given me a thousand times over three years-impassive, unreadable. But now, I saw the power lurking beneath the stillness. The coiled patience of a predator.

I didn't expect him to help me. I didn't expect anything from him. I turned to leave.

"How much?" he asked, his voice stopping me again.

I didn't turn around. "How much for what?"

"For a night. With me."

I whipped around, my jaw dropping. He was leaning against the bar, swirling a glass of amber liquid, looking at me as if he were contemplating buying a piece of art. The casual cruelty of it stole my breath.

"You're sick," I whispered, the words trembling with rage. "You're a sick bastard."

I lunged for the door again, but he was faster. He blocked my path, his body a solid wall of muscle and expensive wool.

"Why?" he asked, his voice laced with a chilling curiosity. "Leo Vance can offer you twenty thousand to crawl on the floor, but I can't offer you a hundred thousand for your bed? What makes me so different?"

I stared at him, confused. "What are you talking about? I didn't agree to his offer."

"You were about to," he said, his eyes narrowing. "You were going to get on your knees for him. For them. But not for me. Why is that, Callie?"

His logic was so twisted, so warped, I could only stare at him. He thought my desperate attempt to call Leo's bluff was a genuine negotiation. He thought I was willing to sell my dignity to anyone but him. The irony was a bitter pill in my throat.

"I need a million dollars," he continued, his voice dropping to a low murmur, his gaze intense. "For your father's debts. For your mother's peace of mind. For your brother's future. One million, Callie. For one night."

He was using my family, my love for them, as a weapon against me. He knew it was my only weakness.

My pride, what was left of it, screamed in protest. I would not sell my body. I would not become his whore.

I managed a cold, brittle laugh. "You really think you can buy me? You think money is the only thing that matters?" I shook my head, a tear of pure fury escaping my eye. "You want to humiliate me, Kane. That's all this is. Another way to make me pay."

I shoved past him and ran. I ran out of the room, through the crowded club, tears blurring the flashing lights and leering faces. I didn't stop until I was out in the cool night air, gasping for breath.

Being humiliated by Leo and his cronies was one thing. It was disgusting, but it was impersonal. They were just kicking me because I was down. But Kane... his offer felt different. It was intimate. It was a violation aimed directly at the heart of our shared, twisted history. It hurt more.

I was leaning against a wall, trying to pull myself together, when I saw it.

Across the velvet-roped entrance, in the main lounge, a small crowd had gathered. In the center was my brother, Julian. And kneeling before him was Leo Vance, holding out a glass of champagne.

"Come on, Julian," Leo was saying, his voice slick with condescension. "Just one sip from my shoe. Fifty thousand. Think of what you could do with that money."

Julian, my proud, handsome brother, looked pale and broken. He glanced at the stacks of cash Leo had piled on the table. He was going to do it. For us. He was going to sacrifice his pride for our family.

And in that moment, my own pride, the stubborn, foolish thing I had clung to for so long, shattered into a million pieces. It was worthless. It was a luxury we could no longer afford.

I turned and ran back into the club, back to the VIP room, praying he was still there.

He was. Standing by the window, looking out at the city lights, his back to me. He didn't seem surprised when I burst in.

"Do you hate me, Kane?" I asked, the question raw and ragged.

He turned slowly. His face was a mask, impossible to read.

"I'll do it," I said, my voice shaking but firm. "I'll be your... whatever you want me to be. But not for one night. And not for a million dollars."

He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of interest in his cold eyes.

"Clear my family's debt," I said, laying my soul bare. "All of it. And I'm yours. For as long as you want me."

A slow, predatory smile spread across his lips. It was the smile of a man who had just won the entire game. "A deal," he purred. He walked towards me, his eyes dark with a triumphant gleam. He trailed a finger down my cheek, a touch that felt more like a brand than a caress.

"But you won't just be my woman on the side, Callie," he whispered, his voice a silken threat. "You'll be my live-in mistress."

He paused, letting the words sink in, twisting the knife.

"And you'll be living with us."