EROSYNE; HER BODY, THEIR LAB

The whiskey glass slips from my hand and crashes behind the bar.

"Damn it." I kneel to pick up the broken pieces, ignoring how sore my legs are after standing in heels for eight hours. The Velvet Noose doesn't care about comfort or health insurance, or respect.

"Need help, sweetheart?" I don't bother looking. I know that voice. It belongs to the banker in the expensive suit who's been staring at my chest since happy hour. His watch probably costs more than my rent.

"Stop calling me sweetheart," I mutter, sweeping the glass onto a tray.

His friends burst into a fit of laughter. One of them blond with shark-like teeth, sharp jawlines, thin lips spread on his face. "Bold, I like that." He touches my wrist. "How much for you to.." I didn't let him finish what he had to say, I quickly cut him short.

"I'm not for sale." I straighten up, wiping my hands on my apron. "Want another round?" I asked.

They look at each other. The blond one smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes. "Sure. And tell your boss we want the VIP booth."

I don't reply. The VIP booths are where girls go to entertain men, then come back with smeared makeup and dead eyes and some walk like a pipe is being plunged between their legs. That's definitely not my business. Not tonight, I can't be like one of them. I can't be molested.

But I felt it, a stare that presses between my shoulder blades like a hand. I turn and our gazes met, I flinched and turned my back at him. Gavin Thorne is watching from the hallway, his arms crossed over his suit. He's the owner of The Velvet Noose. He doesn't serve drinks. He doesn't chat with customers. He just waits in the shadows, like a spider in the middle of it's web. And right now, I'm about to be the buzzing fly he wants to silence.

10:43 PM

The stockroom smells like old beer and regret. I'm counting limes when the door opens.

"Alesha ." Gavin's voice is smooth, but firm. I don't turn.

"I've got six tables waiting." I said as I continued counting the limes.

"Vincent Asher's here." I freeze. Asher, the blond banker from earlier. He really did meet Gavin to prepare the VIP booth. The same guy whose last date was left bruised and silent.

"He wants the sapphire booth," Gavin says. "And he asked for you."

I squeeze the lime too hard. Juice runs down my hand. "I don't do private booths."

"Tonight you do." He said in a firm voice, I shook in fear as my legs trembled. 0I turn to face him. Gavin leans against the doorframe, his shirt perfect, his smile fake. His loosened tie says he's relaxed. His diamond cufflinks say he's powerful.

"I'm a bartender," I say. "Not one of your girls."

He smiles slightly. "You're whatever I say you are."

The words hang in the air, heavy and Dangerous.

I threw the lime in the trash. "No." For a second, he's silent. Then he steps forward. Close enough that I can smell his cologne, rich and woodsy.

"You've been testing me," he says quietly. "With your attitude. Your refusals." He touches my chin.

I knock his hand away and move backwards. "Touch me again, and you'll regret it."

He laughs. Then his phone buzzes. He looks at it, The smile I'm gush face suddenly disappeared, his face turned grim.

"Asher's waiting." He said in a cold tone, enough to send shivers down my spine.

"Then you go entertain him." My words feel like lighting a match.

Gavin puts his phone away. "Suit yourself."

He walks out. I took a deep breath, I did it. Yes I did it. Maybe if other girls were as outspoken and assertive as myself they wouldn't be satisfying men at the VIP booth.

11:17 PM

The stockroom is hot. The AC hasn't worked in weeks. I'm sweating as I lift a crate of vodka onto a shelf. The door clicks shut behind me. I don't turn. "Jesse, if this is about tips" I was saying but was cut short immediately.

"Not Jesse." The deep voice said in a low tone. I didn't need to turn to decipher the voice, It's Gavin. I spin around as two of his security guys, Mitch and a new one block the exit. Gavin rolls up his sleeves. I'm done for. Maybe being assertive isn't just it but having some fighting skills to backup unfortunately, I lack in that skill.

My heart pounds. "We've had this conversation."

"That's the problem." He pulls a small box from his pocket. "You think you have a choice." He opens it. Inside is a syringe, with a substance already drawn in it.

Cold dread runs through me. "What is that?"

"Insurance." He nods. "Hold her." He commanded, I rush for the door. Mitch grabs me and slams me into the shelf. Bottles rattle. I elbow him hard. He groans but doesn't let go.

"Gavin" I shouted as I was being held down by Mitch and the new guy. The needle stabs into my neck. Then I felt it, burning my blood, flesh and bones. Fire. It spreads through my body like lightning, burning everything. Mitch and the other guy released their grip on me. My legs give out. Gavin catches me, his face blurry.

"Erosyne," he says softly, brushing my hair back. "You've got two hours. It kicks in fast." I gasp. My body feels too tight. My thoughts scatter.

"W-what is.." I asked as I staggered, everywhere became blurry.

"Either have sex," he whispers, "or your brain melts down trying to fight it." He pats my cheek. "Good luck."

He leaves. I fall against the shelf, shaking. My breathing is rough. And deep inside me, I felt an unexplainable kind of heat. This time not from the broken AC. This is different. Wrong.

I crawl to the emergency exit. The night air hits me like ice. I run out of the bar. Barefoot, my shoes slipped from my legs. Scared. Totally screwed. What will become of me? Would my brain melt all at once. It wasn't that bad just sleeping with Asher. That's definitely batter than having a melted brain.

The night peels itself back in layers of pain. I lurch into the alley behind The Velvet Noose as rain poured generously on me, barely keeping upright. Every breath is a blade. Every step, a battle. The drug Erosyne wrecks me from the inside out, twisting need into agony.

My skin buzzes like it's been set alight. The damp air cuts no relief. My clothes feel wrong, abrasive, heavy, cruel. I don't care where I land. Only that it's away.

My knees buckle beneath a flickering streetlamp. I hit the pavement hard, curling near the dumpster, panting.

Two hours. That's how long I have before this thing melts my brain from the inside. I press my cheek to the wet asphalt. Maybe I'll just disappear here. Become a headline. Or not even that.

Then, Tires shriek. A black Rolls-Royce slides to a halt inches from my outstretched hand. A door opens.

A man drops beside me, swearing low. His voice It's the kind of voice born in boardrooms and whispered about in wealth columns. I lift my head, just barely.

He looks Early-to-mid thirties. Hazel-colored eyes, expensive jawline, wet hair slicked back like some fallen angel. His suit clings to him, ruined by the rain but still unmistakably expensive. Then I let out a wry smile, I know that face.

Ryder Volkov. Tech baron and CEO Neurauto Inc. An Island buyer. The kind of man who could ruin a country with a well-timed silence. He stretched forth his arms reaching for me, his fingers pressing gently to my throat, as he checked my pulse. I flinch not because Volkov Ryder touched me but the effects of his touch on my body.

"Hey, what's your name? I'm Ryder."

"Don't.." My voice cracks as I cough. "Alesha." I managed to say.

His brows pull together. "You're burning up." His tone sharpens. "Who did this to you?"

I don't answer. No I can't answer him. My mouth feels disconnected from my brain.

"Tell me what they gave you." He asked again in a fierce tone.

I manage one word. "Erosyne."

His face darkens instantly. "Fuck." He cursed out loud. He knows. Of course he knows. A man like him doesn't stay rich without understanding what's sold in the dark corners of his city.

Before I can object, like if I even wanted to, which I couldn't. he lifts me. Effortless. Like I weigh nothing.

He laid me on the leather seats. The clean scent of sandalwood. The door slams shut.

Ryder

She's dying in my backseat. And I know exactly how it ends. At Monaco. Two years ago. A girl just like her, twitching on imported marble while diplomats scrambled for silence. That was the first time I heard the name Erosyne. A synthetic fire. Unrelenting, illegal, and irreversible after two hours without... release. This isn't arousal. It's a chemical execution.

I poke at my phone. Dialing Dr. Chu's line but it never went. Then Dr. Langley." Nothing still.

She mumbled and writhes in the seat, arms clutching her stomach. Her nails rake her thighs, trying to tear the fire out.

"It Hurts..." she whimpers. I curse under my breath. There's no time for a hospital and there is none nearby. No antidote stocked in any goddamn pharmacy, this is all fucked up. There's only one way to stop it. God help me.

THE PENTHOUSE

Rain hammers the glass walls of my penthouse like fists. I carry her into the room, my heart beat louder than the storm.

She's burning up in my arms, my sweat clinging to her, her body arching in violent tremors, Not from pleasure. From overload. The kind no one walks away from unless someone intervenes.

I laid her on the bed, but she doesn't settle. Her fingers claw at the sheets, she went into spasms as though trying to escape her own skin. The drug is doing exactly what it was made for. Forcing a need so consuming it devours everything one's dignity, will, reason.

Her eyes fly open, pupils blown wide. "Make it stop," she gasps. "Please God." There's no God here. Just me.

And I am the last person she should have to beg. I stare down at her, rainwater dripping from my sleeves onto her burning skin. She moans then closes her mouth like she's ashamed of the sound. That sound goes straight to a place I don't want to admit exists.

"This isn't about want," I tell her quietly, more to myself than to her. "It's about surviving." She can't answer. Her body is a battlefield, nerves raw and exposed.

I shed my jacket. Then the shirt. I meet her eyes again. And see it. Not fear, not consent, either. But will power. "Are you sure? I should do this." I asked her immediately she calmed down for a few seconds.

"Y-yes," she whispers, although barely audible. "Just... do it." It's permission, but it's all she has left. My stomach tightens. I hate myself for what comes next. But I move anyway. Because two hours is a death sentence. And I've already waited too long.

She's asleep now. Finally still. I sit at the edge of the bed, drenched, shaking. Not from vigorous action earlier but from shame. Yes, I saved her life but it seems like I raped her. I don't sleep with drugged people but I did this to save her. The sheets are twisted, damp with rain and sweat. The duvet covered her chest down. She's the exact opposite of last night. Now she's calm and most importantly alive.

That's the only truth I can cling to.

Outside, the storm begins to clear.

Inside, I feel like I've crossed a line no amount of redemption will erase.

I pace the length of the window, watching the city blink back to life. Behind me, the silence is deafening.

My phone vibrates. Dozens of missed calls, security, board members, a few I don't recognize.

They can wait. Because all I can see is her face. The alley. That impossible look in her eyes. Not fear. Not surrender. But boldness. Like she refused to breakeven then. And God help me, I didn't save her.

I made a choice. One I'll have to live with.

The doorbell rings like a gunshot. I'm pulling on one of Ryder's dress shirts, black silk that hangs to my thighs. When the electronic chime echoes through the penthouse. My fingers freeze on the buttons.

Ryder's turns his head from the blueprints spread across his desk. The security monitor showed a woman in the corridor, her blonde hair perfectly coiled, her cream trench coat worth more than my yearly rent.

"Stay here," Ryder ordered, already moving toward the elevator. But I'm at his shoulder before he could stop me from staring at the screen. The woman taps one manicured nail against her leather bag, her mouth a slash of red lipstick.

"Who is she?" I ask, though I'm guessing that she's either his girlfriend as I didn't see any ring in his finger.

Ryder's jaw tightens. "A problem." The elevator dings again, more insistent.

Then the woman looks directly into the hidden camera and smiles. "Ryder, darling. I know you're home." She yelled. Ryder's jaws clenched. He stood fuming. Ryder didn't invite her up but She lets herself in.

The penthouse door opens to reveal the lady gliding across the marble floors like she owns them which, I realize with horror, she probably does. Up close, she's even more beautiful with ice-blue eyes, a diamond wedding band, and the kind of posture that screams power.

Her gaze sweeps over my bare legs, borrowed shirt, the bruise on my neck where Gavin's needle went in and her smile sharpens. "I see you've been...entertaining."

Ryder steps between us. "What do you want, Natalia?" He cuts in as she smirked. I don't want to be the reason they might quarrel. Maybe I should explain myself to her, she seems to misunderstand.

"Can't a wife visit her husband?" She sets her bag on his desk, right over the blueprints of Gavin's properties. "Especially when he's been missing from all his meetings today?"

I stiffen. Wife. I stare at her, she's an epitome that men can't help but drool. She's powerful and my definition of a successful woman. So I'm not shocked that her husband is Volkov Ryder's wife.

"It seems you now suffer from amnesia, when last I can remember I'm not married but a divorcé. So when addressing yourself never forget to add ex before the wife." He stated clearly. Natalia flinches but regains her posture. Then she circled the room, trailing fingers over his whiskey decanter, his leather chair, the bed where we laid on.

"Interesting," she murmurs, picking a black lace bra from the floor. My bra. I mutter as I wrap my hands in my breast. Shit, I forgot to put them on. "This isn't your usual type, Jacob." She said as she waved it in the air then threw it at my face. I picked the bra hanging on my face then out it at my back. The room became suddenly quiet. I should leave. No, I should run. But my feet stay rooted, my pulse pounding in my ears.

Ryder's voice drops Dangerously low. "We had an arrangement." He said as her eyes lit up in surprise.

"And arrangements can change." Natalia finally turns to me. "You must be the bartender Gavin's been looking for." I shudder in fear, how did she know, I'm I being set up. Or is this one of Gavin's games.

My breath catches. "You know Gavin?" I asked shakily then she busted into a fit of laughter.

Her laugh is like shattered crystal. "Darling, I fund Gavin." She said as I stood frozen. My gaze at Ryder then Natalia. A tear escaped from my eyes. I'm done for.

"You don't have to be afraid, she's the heiress to Petrova pharmaceutical. Their lab specializes in. Erosyne is their latest production." Ryder explained as my mouth is opened wide agape.

"How do you expect me nit to be scared of Gavin's boss. And what are you? Are you also Gavin's other boss?" I asked, I already knew the answer. Of course it's a yes. Tears streamed from my eyes.

"What a big crybaby you are. He's been trying to shut us down for years." Natalia tells me, pouring herself a drink from Ryder's bar. "Ever since his little sister overdosed on one of our early prototypes." She said coldly as she emptied the content of the glass in her throat.

Ryder's fist slams into the wall. "Enough." He yelled as I flinched in fear.

But Natalia continues, savoring each word. "Poor Anya. She was always so fragile. The Erosyne trial was too much for her." She said grinning. Then I saw that look on his face. The raw grief flashing across Ryder's face before he locks it down. "When he found out that my company is responsible for his sister's death, we divorced. Isn't that childish buy I hold no grudge against him." Ryder's face turned red like it was placed in boiling water. This isn't just about saving me. It's about vengeance.

Natalia sets down her glass. "Which brings us to you, Miss Cole. Gavin tells me you resisted the drug longer than any test subject." She steps closer, her perfume choking me. "We'd like to know why." I moved backwards a little bit. I averted my eyes trying to avoid her gaze.

Ryder moves faster than I thought possible. One second he's across the room, the next, he has Natalia by the throat, her back against the windows. Forty stories above Manhattan.

"You touch her," he snarls, "and I'll burn your entire empire to the ground." Fear crept on her face but she washed it off with a smile.

Natalia just smiles. "Too late, darling. The second dose is already in her system." She said as Ryder dropped her on the floor. She landed on her butt on the marble floor.

My blood turns to cement. "What?" I gasp as I looked around and touched my neck. But I wasn't injected. So how?

Natalia taps my stolen shirt where it clings to my sweaty collarbone. "Did you really think I came here alone?" She said with a smirk on her face.

The elevator dings again. My legs trembled. Ryder eyes runs round the room. Maybe searching for the nearest weapon. The door flung open then I gasped in shock, Natalia's laughter filled the room.

Gavin steps out, flanked by two men in lab coats. "Miss me, sweetheart?" He said, a sinister smile on his lips. I blinked severally.

Ryder reaches for the gun in his desk but Gavin is faster. A dart embeds itself in Ryder's neck. His knees buckle, his eyes locking onto mine as he crashes to the floor.

"Don't worry," Natalia says, straightening her coat. "That's just a sedative. We need him conscious for the demonstration." She said as she patted my shoulders. I had become stiff.

Gavin grabs my arm, his fingers digging into the still-tender injection site. "You're going to help us perfect Erosyne." He leans in, his breath hot on my ear. "And this time, no one's coming to save you."

The men in lab coats walk towards me with syringes. I do the only thing I can.

I scream, maybe I'll get a savoir.