Mae stepped into her dressing room, the familiar hum of Hell's Angels pulsating behind her as the door clicked shut. The lights above the vanity flickered slightly, casting an uneven glow across the room. She glanced at her reflection, running a hand through her dark hair. Her pulse still thrummed with the rhythm of the night's performance, but her thoughts were elsewhere, entangled in the web of confusion and desire that had slowly begun to choke her.

The man behind it all had revealed himself.

She had prepared for this moment. She had convinced herself she was ready to face whoever was pulling the strings behind the club, behind her life. But now that she knew who he was, everything felt different. More dangerous. More tempting. She hadn't expected him to be so... magnetic.

For weeks, Mae had built up an image of a faceless villain, a cold and calculating man who controlled her fate from the shadows. But when he finally revealed himself, she hadn't been prepared for the truth. He wasn't just some detached puppeteer. He was confident, powerful, and devastatingly charismatic. There was something about him that stirred her in ways she hadn't anticipated.

As she sat down at the vanity, her hands trembling slightly, she tried to make sense of her emotions. She was supposed to hate him. He was the one who had been manipulating her, pulling the strings, turning her life into a game she didn't know how to play. But now, all she could think about was the way his eyes had locked onto hers, the way his voice had slipped under her skin like a whisper she couldn't ignore.

Mae had always prided herself on being in control—of her body, her mind, her destiny. But this man, with his quiet authority and undeniable presence, was slowly stripping away that control. And the most unsettling part was, she didn't entirely hate it. In fact, she was starting to crave it.

She stood up abruptly, pacing the room, trying to shake the feeling that was creeping over her. This was a dangerous game she was playing. Falling for him—letting herself feel anything for him—was a mistake. But every time she told herself to back away, something stronger pulled her back toward him. A pull she couldn't explain, and one that scared her.

He wasn't just some businessman with influence. He was woven into the very fabric of her life, controlling it, twisting it to his will. And yet, there was a part of him that felt familiar. That made her feel seen in a way no one else had. But how could she trust that? How could she trust him when everything he had done so far had been designed to control her?

Mae stopped pacing, her hand hovering over the vanity as she tried to steady her breath. She had to play this smart. She couldn't afford to let her feelings—whatever they were—cloud her judgment. This man had power over her, and if she let herself fall any deeper, he would have control over her heart as well.

A soft knock at the door broke through her thoughts. She turned, expecting one of the other dancers, but when the door opened, it wasn't a familiar face that greeted her.

"Mae." The voice was low, calm, and unmistakably his.

Her heart skipped a beat as she met his gaze. He stood in the doorway, the shadows of the dim hallway clinging to him like a second skin. His presence filled the small space, and for a moment, she couldn't breathe.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, her voice sharper than she intended. She needed to maintain some sense of control, even if it was slipping through her fingers.

He stepped into the room, closing the door behind him. "I thought it was time we had a more... personal conversation."

Mae swallowed hard, her pulse quickening as he crossed the room with slow, deliberate steps. His movements were smooth, confident, as if he knew the effect he was having on her and was relishing every second of it.

She backed up slightly, her legs brushing against the vanity as she tried to steady herself. "Personal? You've already made it clear you control everything here. What more is there to talk about?"

His eyes flickered with something dark, something unreadable. "Control isn't the only thing at play here, Mae. You know that as well as I do."

Her breath hitched. She knew exactly what he was talking about, and the realization sent a shiver down her spine. There was more between them now—an unspoken tension that simmered just beneath the surface, growing stronger with every glance, every word. She had spent weeks trying to deny it, but there was no denying it anymore.

He was close now, too close, and Mae's body betrayed her, leaning slightly into his presence. She could feel the heat radiating off him, the pull that had been drawing her toward him since their first encounter. This wasn't just about seduction or manipulation anymore. It was about something far deeper, something far more dangerous.

"You don't know anything about me," Mae said, her voice quieter now, almost pleading.

His lips curled into a small, knowing smile. "Oh, but I do. I know more about you than you realize."

Her heart raced as his words hung in the air, heavy and loaded with meaning. He wasn't just talking about Mae, the woman she had become at Hell's Angels. He was talking about her past—about Seraphina. But how could he know? How could he possibly know about the life she had left behind?

Mae took a step back, her mind swirling with confusion and fear. She had been so careful to leave her old life behind, to bury it beneath the glamour and chaos of the club. But now, with just a few words, it felt like he had unearthed it all.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

His smile didn't waver, and he took another step closer, closing the distance between them until they were almost touching. "You can't run from who you are, Mae. No matter how hard you try."

The words hit her like a punch to the gut, and for the first time, she felt completely exposed. He knew. He knew everything. And yet, there was no judgment in his eyes, no malice. Just a calm certainty that made her knees weak.

"I don't need to run," she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

He reached out, gently brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through her. "No, you don't," he murmured. "But you do need to stop fighting me."

Mae's breath caught in her throat as his hand lingered near her face. There was something about him that terrified her, but it wasn't just fear. It was the way he made her feel—like she was on the edge of something dangerous, something thrilling. She wanted to push him away, to run from the heat building between them, but her body refused to move.

She had spent so long trying to seduce him, to gain the upper hand in their twisted game. But now, standing so close to him, she realized that she wasn't the one in control. He had been in control all along, and the worst part was, she didn't hate it. She didn't hate the way he made her feel vulnerable, exposed.

In fact, she was starting to crave it.

"I don't trust you," Mae whispered, her voice barely audible.

His hand dropped from her face, but the intensity of his gaze never wavered. "You don't have to trust me," he said softly. "But you will need me. Soon enough."

Mae's pulse quickened, and she fought to keep her composure. He was right, and that terrified her more than anything. She was falling for him, slowly but surely, and no matter how much she tried to resist, she knew it was too late.

He stepped back, the space between them widening just enough to allow her to breathe again. His eyes held hers for a long moment before he turned toward the door.

"I'll be watching," he said quietly, his voice a dark promise.

Mae stood frozen as he left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. She exhaled slowly, her body trembling with a mix of fear and something else she wasn't ready to name.

Mae stood in the middle of the room, her heart pounding in her chest as the door clicked shut behind him. She could still feel the heat of his presence lingering in the air, his words reverberating in her mind.

You will need me. Soon enough.

She hated how right he sounded. Hated that despite everything—despite the lies, the manipulation, the control—she felt herself craving more of him. Her mind screamed at her to stay grounded, to remember who he was and what he had done. But her body, her emotions—they betrayed her.

She sank into the chair in front of her vanity, staring at her reflection. Her dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, her makeup still perfectly in place, but there was a new vulnerability in her eyes. She barely recognized herself anymore. The confidence she had spent years cultivating was slowly slipping away, replaced by the unsettling realization that she was losing control.

Her mind raced back to the moment he had touched her—just a simple brush of his fingers against her skin, yet it had sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn't just lust, though there was plenty of that. It was something deeper. He made her feel seen in a way she hadn't felt in years, maybe ever. And that scared her more than anything.

Mae had always been the one in control. From the moment she left her old life behind, she had crafted this new version of herself with careful precision. She had risen to the top at Hell's Angels on her own terms, using her beauty, her charm, and her determination. She had never needed anyone.

But now, standing on the precipice of something she couldn't quite define, she realized that he had shattered that illusion. He wasn't just another powerful man trying to control her. He knew things—things about her past, about Seraphina—that no one else did. And worse, he knew exactly how to use that knowledge against her.

She felt trapped, like a moth drawn to the flame, knowing that it could burn her but unable to resist its warmth.

"Stop it," Mae whispered to herself, shaking her head. "You can't let him win."

But deep down, she knew this wasn't a game she could win. He was too smart, too powerful, and he had already gotten under her skin. The idea of fighting him seemed impossible. Every time she tried, he only pulled her in closer, like a puppeteer tightening his strings.

She stood up abruptly, needing to move, to shake off the heaviness that was settling over her. She couldn't afford to spiral into this mess. There was too much at stake. She had to stay focused, had to remember why she was here in the first place.

But with every passing moment, it became harder to deny the truth: she didn't just hate him. She didn't just fear him. She was drawn to him in a way that was both terrifying and intoxicating.

Mae grabbed her phone, staring at the blank screen, trying to steady her thoughts. Maybe it was time to stop playing the game. Maybe it was time to lay low, to let things cool off. But even as the thought crossed her mind, she knew it was a lie. She couldn't stay away from him. Not now. Not after everything.

The knock on her door startled her, pulling her out of her thoughts. She hesitated for a moment, her heart racing as she wondered if he had come back. If he was there, waiting for her to open the door.

With a shaky breath, she crossed the room and pulled the door open.

It was Nikki, one of the dancers that is barely there.

"You okay?" Nikki asked, her brows furrowed with concern. "You've been off tonight. Is something going on?"

Mae forced a smile, the mask slipping back into place. "I'm fine," she lied, even though her voice betrayed the turmoil inside her. "Just... tired."

Nikki didn't look convinced, but she didn't push. "Well, if you need to talk, I'm here. You know that, right?"

"Yeah," Mae nodded, her chest tightening. "Thanks, Nikki."

As Nikki walked away, Mae closed the door behind her, leaning against it for support. She was unraveling, and she knew it. The man who had been lurking in the shadows for so long was no longer just a threat from afar. He was real, and he was right in front of her. And despite everything, despite the danger and the lies, she was falling for him.

She hated herself for it. Hated the way her body reacted to his presence, the way her mind betrayed her every time she thought about him. But it was no use. She had already crossed a line, and there was no turning back now.

Mae walked over to the window, pulling the curtains back slightly as she stared out at the city lights. Somewhere out there, he was waiting. Watching. Planning his next move. And for the first time in her life, Mae wasn't sure if she was ready for what came next.

But one thing was certain—whatever happened, she couldn't escape him. Not now. Not ever