Chapter 26 Do You Not Like Me
Isabella's waist and feet were still injured. She could barely hold herself upright against the pole, mimicking the dancers' movements with slow, deliberate rolls of her hips.
Cheers erupted around the room. Her face remained expressionless.
That icy indifference only stoked the men's hunger.
"I heard women like that—the ones who act all frigid—turn into animals in bed. The sounds they make will ruin you."
"Look at the one Mr. Spencer brought. She's got more allure than the rest. That waist—I could wrap one hand around it."
"Keep your voice down. She's Mr. Spencer's woman. Even if you wanted her, you'd never get close."
They exchanged glances, smirks saying everything words couldn't.
Her appeal was lethal. Everyone knew it.
In their circle, William's women were untouchable. A man like him—obsessed with control—would destroy anyone who crossed that line.
William swirled his glass, watching Isabella's stiff attempts. Then he slammed it down hard. The sharp crack of glass on wood silenced the room.
"Look at yourself. That's pathetic."
His tone dripped contempt. He turned to the others. "Does she look good to you?"
No one answered. They didn't know what he wanted to hear.
"No one? Then you're not satisfied." He gestured toward the dancers. "Keep going. Copy them exactly. If you can't, I'll have someone break their hands and feet."
The dancers froze, terror flashing across their faces. They turned on Isabella with venom in their eyes.
One hissed at her. "Who the hell do you think you are? You're dressed like us, standing here like us. Stop pretending you're better. You're going to get us all punished."
"Just dance. Make these men happy. That's all you have to do."
Isabella looked at William. He raised an eyebrow, smiling faintly. He was pushing her to the edge on purpose.
To break her, he'd drag anyone else down with her.
He wanted to watch her humiliate herself.
As long as she was alive, William would never let her go.
He lit a cigarette, eyes fixed on her like she was prey—or garbage.
One of the dancers grabbed her hand, forcing her into position. Another lifted her leg, drawing whistles and shouts.
William still looked unimpressed. "Guess you don't want the deal after all. Don't waste my time."
Isabella spread her arms, pressing her hips against the pole. She rolled her body slowly, sinking into a crouch, one leg sweeping in a circle. The motion was deliberate, teasing. The men's breathing quickened.
She grabbed the pole and climbed, wrapping her legs around it like a snake coiling its prey.
She tilted her head back, flicking her tongue out the way the dancers did, locking eyes with the men below.
"Am I… doing it right?"
Their stares burned into her. If William hadn't been there, they would have rushed the stage.
When no one answered, she slid down, prowling toward them on all fours.
"Am I not pretty enough?"
"Do you… still not like me?"
William crushed his cigarette. The rage inside him only grew hotter.
He watched Isabella pose and writhe in front of them, like she was deliberately baiting every man in the room.
She dropped to the floor, arching her back, ass raised high. The thin fabric barely covered her. She might as well have been naked.
"Jesus Christ, she's perfect."
"If Mr. Spencer let me have one night with her, I'd pay anything."
"She's filthy. I'm losing it."
William's expression turned murderous. He shot to his feet and kicked the table over. Bottles shattered, liquor spraying across the floor. The others stood immediately.
One look from him was all it took.
They ushered the dancers out and shut the door behind them.
William stared at Isabella. He crooked a finger. "Come here."
She stepped forward. He grabbed the fabric covering her chest and ripped it off. Her bare skin was exposed instantly.
"You're disgusting, Isabella. Is this how you seduce men?"
She covered herself with her hands. Wasn't this what he told her to do?
Why was he blaming her now?
Or had she not done enough?
His gaze dropped to her hands. "Move them."
She hesitated, then slowly lowered her arms, hunching forward in fear.
"Stand up straight."
She obeyed. His hand shot out, grabbing her breast hard, squeezing until tears spilled from her eyes.
"You're such a little whore. Does Beatrice know you do this? Has Ambrose seen you like this?"
At the mention of those names, panic flashed across her face.
That was exactly what William wanted to see.
"Take off the rest."
She stared at him. He reminded her, "You still want the deal, don't you?"
Isabella understood. If she didn't satisfy him, Starlight Corp would lose the project.
She stripped off the rest, standing naked in front of him.
He pointed at the pole. "Dance again. More provocative this time. Bigger movements."
She walked to the pole mechanically, following his orders. Her face stayed empty.
William pulled out his phone and started recording. Then he walked over, loosening his tie. He used it to bind her wrists to the pole.
He held up the screen. "I'm filming."
Her stomach knotted. He was going to humiliate her in the worst way possible.
William unbuckled his belt, gripping her waist. He forced her legs apart and thrust into her without warning.
Nausea surged through her. He grabbed her chin, leaning in to kiss her.
She turned her head. He yanked it back, kissing her until her lip split and bled. He pried her jaw open, his tongue invading her mouth, taking everything.
He moved faster, watching her tears with satisfaction.
Isabella bit her lip. Her body went numb, as if all sensation had drained away.
William wasn't done. He dragged her to the couch, tying her wrists to the legs, and climbed on top of her again.
The room spun. Every thrust felt like it would tear her apart. Her mind dissolved somewhere between pain and vertigo.
She thought she might die here.
When Isabella opened her eyes again, she was alone.
Her wrists were still tied to the couch legs. No one had come to help her.
She'd have to free herself.