The women employed at The Harbor are shuffling around me as we get ready for our shifts. Hairspray lingers in the air amongst the chatter and laughter, and the air shimmers beneath the fluorescent lights with glitter. I'm finishing up my mascara when a female security guard enters the room dangling a Bluebella bag from her fingertips—one of the most luxurious lingerie stores in the US. Not to mention the most expensive.

"What are you doing with that, Sandra?" A woman teases as she powders her face. "Have you finally decided to leave the security world and join us?"

"Please," the blonde beside her drawls. "Whatever's in that bag likely costs more than an entire month of her salary."

Sandra rolls her eyes and stalks her way across the room until she lands in front of my vanity. My heart is thumping when she places the bag in my lap and jerks her chin towards the door. "Courtesy of Corden. For tonight he said."

The bag is like a velvet caress against my fingertips. Even the soft pink tissue paper feels too expensive for me to touch.

"Oh my god, I'm so fucking jealous!" Jaz shrieks from beside me. She attempts to peer into the bag, waving her hands impatiently. "Well, come on. Open it!"

Swallowing the lump in my throat, I remove the tissue paper and set it on my vanity. Corden listened to me about loving fashion and luxury brands, and by giving me this, he's making a dream of mine come true. I've always wanted to have something from a luxurious brand but never allowed myself to waste money on it, and when I stare down into the bag...

The breath is stolen from my lungs.

Inside is a skimpy red set that would make men drop to their knees. Stitched into the fabric of the bra and panties are lips. The embroidery makes it so it wouldn't be noticeable from a distance, but up close, tiny lips dance across where my nipples and pussy will be—created to be teasing, no doubt. The panties are a thong, and at the bottom of the bag is a set of thigh-high stockings along with a garter. It's a set created for a queen, and judging by the silence in the room, the other girls know it too.

"I hate you," the blonde says in awe. "I've never been more envious in my life."

Jaz nudges me, wiggling her eyebrows. "You don't want to keep the man waiting, do you?"

***

Exiting the dressing room, I feel like the sexiest woman in the room, which is precisely why Corden purchased this for me, I'm assuming.

Some of the members' heads whip around as I pass, a select few of their jaws dropping open. My head is held higher than it's ever been when I find Corden at the bar, his back facing me.

Tapping two fingers on his shoulder, he slowly turns around. I find it doubtful that the man standing before me shows his expressions often, but it's impossible to shake the look of disbelief etched into his features. He drinks me in as if he's been starving in the desert for days and I'm the first glass of water he's seen. I watch his pupils dilate while he scans the lips stitched over my nipples and then clears his throat when his gaze dips lower to the place between my legs.

"Christ," he breathes. As if he didn't mean to say that out loud, he shakes his head, signaling for the bartender. "Your usual tonight, I'm assuming?"

My heart flutters after I nod my head and he orders my gin martini without me having to say anything at all. He's beginning to know me, and I'm unsure if I like it or not.

"You didn't have to get me this," I say, "but it's...exquisite. Thank you."

He sticks his hand out as if to touch me but seems to think better of it and slicks it over his hair instead, catching the loose strands that have fallen out of his bun. I shouldn't, but I step closer to him, letting him know it's okay to put his hands on me. Even though we were together last night, it's not enough. My body is protesting from how long it's been since his fingertips danced across my flesh. How desired I felt in those few, fleeting moments.

Is this some sort of spell he's cast over me? Corden is dangerous. He warned me as much before I left yesterday, but when I'm around him rationality flies out the window. He's pure temptation, and I had to guess if I ever met the devil in person, he'd look a lot like Corden.

His hand lands on my waist, caressing the red lace of the garter. "This set was worth every penny, Hadari. It bothers me that I didn't think of shoes, too. Even those pretty toes of yours deserve to be draped in luxury." His fingertips land on my thigh now as they cast soothing strokes along my skin. Goosebumps form immediately. "Do you have a preference? Louboutin? Dior?"

"You don't..." I gasp when he runs a large hand over my ass and leaves it there. The instant pleasure is enough for me to bite my bottom lip. He catches the action, those blue eyes of his darkening. "You don't have to buy things for me. I'm not money-hungry or a helpless woman. I take care of myself just fine."

"I've noticed," he replies.

"How so?"

It's an effort not to lean into his touch. His suit is Armani tonight, fitting snugly to his figure. There's never a crease to be found, and I wonder if he has dry cleaners on standby with irons at his disposal. Regardless, the urge for me to put my lips on his neck and inhale the smell of his cologne again nearly wins, but I fight it and wait for his answer.

"I pay attention to details," Corden says, swirling his whiskey. "If you were truly after money, you would have upped your cost by now. I already told you I'd oblige if you were to do so. Your refusal is all the more reason for me to buy you this set."

"What if I were spending your money on drugs or hiring hitmen? You have no idea how I'm using it."

He throws his head back and laughs. It's a pure, whimsical sound that fills me with pride. Corden doesn't seem like the type of man to laugh like this, so for me to be able to get that reaction out of him elicits a sense of smugness in me.

"You don't think I'm capable of such acts?" I grab the gin martini as soon as it lands in front of me and take a large gulp.

"Hadari, I know when I'm in the presence of a hitman or a drug addict, and you are neither of those things."

A chill races down my spine from his sentence.

"And trust me, gifting you sets like this brings far more pleasure for me than it does you. That I can assure you."

We finish the rest of our drinks in comfortable silence, but when we're finished, we make no effort to go to the Red Room. Corden seems content sitting next to me at the bar, and that fluttering in my chest begins to stir itself right back up again.

"Jets?"

His head whips to mine, almost as if in alarm.

I point to the television screen above the bar, where a reporter discusses bets on the upcoming season. "You keep glancing at it, so I assumed you were a fan. I didn't mean to..."

"It's fine." That mask of indifference coats his face again. "I am a fan. It's mine and my—" He cuts himself off, seeming to contemplate whether or not to continue. "My brother and I used to watch the games religiously together."

Used to.

Did his brother pass away?

The question is on the tip of my tongue until a man I've never seen before steps up beside me. He's tall and lanky with greasy black hair and smells as if he hasn't showered in days. The bile seeps into my throat, but I quickly swallow it back down. "Corden," he greets like they're long-lost friends. "It's a surprise to see you here. More surprising to see you with an...acquaintance?"

The relaxed version of Corden has vanished and is replaced with a stone-cold expression, his lips turned down in a frown at the man before him. Whoever this man is, they don't appear to be on good terms.

Corden sits up straighter and slims out his suit, his eyes becoming void and lifeless. The goosebumps reappear on my skin, but this time, it's not from lust. It's almost as if the air has shifted around me, a sense of danger forming around him.

"I don't recall us scheduling a meeting," Corden says, but his voice carries an underlying threat. A warning.

A flash of yellow teeth from the man opposite of him has me grimacing and looking away.

"We don't have one. However, the only reason you come to The Harbor is to dabble in business, no? So who do we have here?"

The man dares to push my braids over one shoulder, allowing his palm to rest against the side of my neck. If it weren't for the growing tension, I'd knee him right in the balls, but I don't want to lose this job. Not when I've struck such a good deal with Corden and can help my family.

Corden follows every movement of the man's hand like a viper eyeing its prey, his hand drifting to his suit jacket.

"Ah. Protective, are we?" The man nods in understanding but still doesn't move his hand. He rakes his eyes over my face and my body like I'm a science experiment he has yet to crack. "Tell me, angel, what is your name? I'm so curious to know who has finally captured Corden's attention."

"She's no one," Corden growls.

Ouch.

The pain that slices across my heart doesn't make any sense. Corden and I aren't...anything. I dance for him, but that doesn't make us close. Our personal lives are kept separate from here. The man doesn't even know my real name. Why would I expect him to claim me as anything else?

Whoever this man is, he's no one good. My spine stiffens when he moves the hand around my neck to drift lower, nearing dangerously close to my breast. I don't miss the way Corden elicits a sound that borders on otherworldly.

"So, it doesn't bother you if I touch her, then?" I smack his hand away when he gets too close, hearing him chuckle before he dips his mouth to my ear, his eyes remaining locked on Corden. "And she's feisty too, hm? Maybe I'll ask Buck to take her for a spin in the Red Room. You'd like that, wouldn't you, sweetheart? To have your lips wrapped around my—"

It all happens so fast I can hardly blink.

Corden rises with lethal precision from the bar stool, the man who was teasing just moments ago sucking in a gust of air. His face has drained of color, and it's not until I glance down that I understand why.

With Corden shielding the members from view with his back, there's a pistol shoved against the man's stomach. I don't have time to grasp what the hell is happening when he flicks the safety off and seethes, "Touch her and you fucking die. If you so much as breathe in her direction in this club, I make no regrets about what'll happen to you or anyone else who dares to do the same. Go ahead and relay that to your fucking master as well. Understood?"

The man nods profusely, stumbling when Corden shoves him back and swiftly holsters his gun. When we're alone at the bar once more, the bartender pretends as if the interaction never happened, continuing to make drinks as she looks the other way. It all happened in less than a minute, and yet everything has changed.

There's a reason the women here fear Corden. I don't know what exactly he does for a living, but to be involved with people like that? To have to holster a gun everywhere he goes? Everyone else was right. He's a walking red flag, and even though there were signs, I ignored them simply based on the fact there was an attraction to him.

Well, that's not the only reason. His looks are one thing, but it's the way he carried himself that made me so infatuated with him. He was confident in a way I resonated with—someone who isn't afraid to be who they are in here. When I'm in this club, I'm the realest version of myself, and I can't help but think the same rings true for Corden.

But now...

Corden must sense my fear. His gaze sharpens on me, and if I'm not mistaken, regret flashes in his eyes. "Hadari—"

When he reaches for me, I take a large step back. There are so many questions I have, but asking them would be fruitless. Regardless of what he claims that was, it ends here. I'm not going to get wrapped up in something that could potentially threaten my life. Besides, judging from my assumptions of what exactly he does for a living, I doubt he'd tell me the truth.

"Don't." I put my hand up, blinking back tears. "I'm not dancing for you anymore. I don't care how much money you offer. I won't accept."

"If you let me explain, I'll—"

"Explain what? Come on, Corden. You don't owe me an explanation. What you do for a living is none of my business. I danced for you. That's it. We both know whatever we may or may not have felt for each other can't leave this club, so what's the point? At the end of the day, I'm no one to you, just like you're no one to me. End of discussion."

Before he can offer a rebuttal, I stalk off towards the dressing room.