I can feel the heat of Corden's stare along my back as I lead the way to the Red Room, wondering what the actual hell I'm doing. I know absolutely nothing about Corden, but the man offered me ten thousand dollars for a private dance, and although I'm a co-owner of a very successful flower shop, I'm a far cry away from being wealthy. Ten thousand dollars could be life-changing.

Pushing open a soundproof door, it opens into a dimly lit room with a red glow. Sensual music plays softly through the speakers, and in the middle of the room is a small circular stage with a single pole. A cushioned leather couch sits directly in front of it, a perfect viewing setup for Corden.

Despite this being my first time, I refuse to let my nerves take over. Dancing is what I was born for, so I climb onto the stage in my stilettos and grip the pole, pointing to the leather couch. "Are you going to sit, or would you prefer to stand and watch?"

A flicker of emotion passes across his face before his lips tilt into a grin. With one hand, he smooths out the invisible creases of his suit before he takes a seat in front of the stage. His long legs are parted, an arm draped over the back of the couch, and it bothers me how effortless he makes it. Every movement seems to be calculated.

With his eyes locked on mine, I grip the pole and do a tiny swing to get used to the weight before I pull myself fully onto it. My thighs grip the metal as I continue to hoist myself towards the ceiling. Then, I release the pole with my hands and lean backward until I'm hanging upside down, exposing my chest and stomach to him. I twirl in slow, precise circles until I reach the bottom, using my hands again to turn myself upright. I'm on my knees now on the stage, and I keep my eyes locked on his as I do a body roll with my hands above my head on the pole.

Any initial smugness is gone from Corden's face. He's staring at me as if I'm a meal he wants to devour, and the thrill it sends through my body is frightening. I normally couldn't care less about men's opinions, but my mind is racing while I attempt to figure out what he's thinking.

"Where are you from?" he asks.

I still my movements for a heartbeat before I continue. "Here."

"Try again. I can..." His voice trails off when I slide my back down against the pole, parting my thighs for him. I don't miss the shifting he does of his pants. "I can hear the slight accent," he finishes.

Damn. Sometimes I forget my roots have followed me to America. Not that I would ever want to forget them, and I try my best not to, but it can slip my mind from time to time.

Giving Corden a piece of truth isn't going to reveal itself to him. I'm still Hadari, so knowing where I came from won't give away too much.

"Nigeria," I reply truthfully. "I moved here when I was younger with my aunt."

"Where in Nigeria?"

I arch a brow, walking slowly around the pole. "I didn't realize a private dance included talking about my personal life. We're supposed to keep that separate from here."

"Right," he hums thoughtfully. "My apologies. I just thought we could get to know each other."

"You don't take me as the kind of person who wants to get to know anyone."

"Oh? And what makes you think that?"

I crawl on the stage on my hands and knees, watching as his eyes dip to my breasts, then back up to my face. "Buck seemed to be intimidated by you. From my experience here, men with a lot of power don't want to get to know any of us. They'd prefer to use us."

"Fair enough," he admits. "However, I'm not seeking to use you. If you had declined my offer of ten thousand, I would have dropped it."

"Really?" I'm at the edge of the stage now, directly in front of him. "Because having me dance for you is technically a form of using me. It brings pleasure for you."

He laughs darkly, scraping his perfect jawline with his hand. "Believe me, if it were up to me, the pleasure tonight would be for the both of us, Hadari. Might I remind you that you chose to dance for me? I gave you the option to refuse."

"Not many of us can refuse ten thousand dollars," I counter.

"Regardless, the choice was still yours."

I've stopped dancing, remaining on my hands and knees while only a foot away from his face. He's infuriating because he's right. I could have declined his offer, but instead, I chose to take his money and dance for him.

"Joke's on you," I reply with a wicked grin, "because I would have accepted for less."

He checks me out again, shaking his head in disbelief. "Looking the way you do... I think you should have asked me for more."

His words elicit the strangest response from me. My heart kicks up speed, and it's extremely difficult to focus back on the task at hand. I'm supposed to dance for him, not sit here discussing money. I was raised better than that.

But it's not often that someone with an obvious repertoire says things like that in a place like this. Most of the men get handsy until they get kicked out from not being able to hold their liquor, and then they'll call us all the names in the book they can think of. They don't praise us. Let alone offer us ten thousand for a dance.

"How often do you work?" he asks.

"Just the weekends."

"And if I were to visit the club again, would you come back into the Red Room with me?"

Why is he so insistent on this? He's known me for less than an hour, and he's already requesting to become one of my regulars. I don't have regulars. Is that something I even want?

"That depends." I sit back on my knees, letting his gaze sweep over me. "Will our sessions be the same as today?"

"Unless you request otherwise, yes."

"And the payment?"

"Will remain the same. If you decide to up your cost, I'll gladly oblige."

Is this some sort of prank the girls decided to play on me? There's no way this guy just waltzed in and offered to give me ten grand for a dance. Now he's offering to give me ten grand regularly, more if I request it. The ball is in my court, and he's allowing me to make the choice.

It's a choice I can't decline even if I want to.

"Next weekend, then," I say, rising to my feet. "Now can you let me finish my dance, or would you prefer to talk for the remainder of our time?"

***

When our session was done, Corden left with a simple goodbye and the reassurance he'd return next weekend. He never laid a finger on me the entirety of our night, but it was the way his eyes tracked me with every spin I did on that pole that made me feel like he was everywhere. He seemed to be conjuring up images in his head that I shamefully wanted to inquire about.

"Hadari!" Jaz pulls me into the dressing room where the rest of the girls are busy packing up for the night. "What the hell was that?"

"What are you talking about?" At my station, I begin gathering up my makeup and hair supplies.

"Corden. He asked you to go into the Red Room."

The other girls around us pause, directing their attention to us now.

"Corden asked you to the red room?" Another girl asks. "How the hell did you swing that?"

"I didn't... I didn't ask him to do anything. He asked me."

"He asked you," the same girl deadpans, seeming to not believe me. "If that's the case, I'd watch your back. Trouble seems to have a way of following anyone involved with Corden."

"How would you know?" a girl with pink-dyed hair asks. "He's never taken someone into the Red Room before, let alone asked for a dance from one of us."

What?

"Don't let them scare you off," Jaz reassures, sending them a death glare. "Corden is just...secretive. He doesn't come to the club often, but when he does..."

"Trouble follows," the girl who tried to warn me reiterates. "Last time he was here, one of the men he was speaking to just disappeared into thin air. He used to be one of Gypsy's regulars and then poof. Gone."

"Maybe he offered the man a business proposal and he moved," Jaz suggests.

"Bullshit. Do any of us actually know what type of business Corden dabbles in?"

The girls continue to bicker back and forth about how potentially dangerous Corden is while I stand in front of my station frozen in place. Why has he never asked another woman into the Red Room if he's a club member, and why was I the first woman he selected?

More importantly, why do I feel as though I just made a deal with the devil?