Avah's POV
I changed into the club uniform, a revealing dress that made me uncomfortable, but it was the only job I could find.
With a heavy sigh, I pulled the tiny dress over my body, its hemline barely covering what it should. I swapped my worn canvas shoes for a pair of black heels from my locker. At least I could control the height of my heels, as long as they were black.
"Appearance is everything," the club owner always says, his words echoing in my mind as I reluctantly touched up my makeup in the dim mirror. Another deep sigh escaped me, as if it could vent my frustration. Taking a steadying breath, I left the small sanctuary of the changing room and stepped into the chaos of Club Venus.
The club was a world of its own-high-end, exclusive, and dripping with wealth. It catered to the elite, where people spent in a night what I struggled to earn in a year. I should feel bitter, but strangely, I didn't care. As long as my paycheck arrived on time, the rest didn't matter.
As soon as I stepped out of the changing room, I forced a smile. Nobody wants a grumpy employee, especially here. Tonight, I was assigned two VIP rooms, which was uncommon for me. I usually steered clear of VIP service, not from laziness, but because I didn't enjoy it.
I once mentioned this to the manager, who took it personally. Instead of arguing, I let it go. Some battles aren't worth fighting, and I came to see the lack of VIP assignments as a small blessing.
Gripping the handle of the cart given to me by a bartender, I headed to the first floor where the VIP rooms were. The bottles on the cart were carefully chosen based on the guest's preferences. High-end clients expected nothing less.
When I opened the first door, a wave of chatter and laughter enveloped me. Inside, a group of men lounged on plush seats, each accompanied by a hostess draped over his arm or leaning in close. The hostesses had one main job: to coax the men into spending as much money as possible.
I pushed my cart toward the largest table, carefully placing each bottle of alcohol in its designated spot while reading the list.
"How can such a beautiful girl be a waiter?" one man drawled, his voice cutting through the noise.
Heads turned, and suddenly, all eyes were on me.
"Yeah, look at her figure," another chimed in, his tone dripping with appreciation that made my skin crawl.
As I moved to the next table, I felt their stares boring into me like wolves sizing up prey. The men gazed at me with lust, while the women shot jealous daggers my way, their expressions sharp enough to wound. I could almost hear their silent sneers.
"Won't you say anything?" a different voice challenged.
What was I supposed to say? Thank you for staring at my butt?
I forced a smile and muttered, "Thank you," keeping my tone polite but detached. The last thing I wanted was to provoke them.
I worked as quickly as possible, hoping to finish before anything escalated. But I wasn't fast enough.
The man who started it all rose from his seat, approaching me with unsettling confidence. His sinister smile betrayed his intentions. My gut twisted in warning, trouble was coming, and it had a name, him.
"Hey, look at me," he demanded, stepping in front of me and blocking my path.
He was short, with a bloated belly and an air of self-importance, suggesting his wealth was his only asset.
"Yes, sir. How may I help you?" I said, my tone overly polite as I fought the urge to roll my eyes.
"You should have a drink too," he winked, his smile making my stomach churn.
"I don't drink during work hours," I replied firmly, hoping to end the conversation.
"Come on, there's no rule against it," he insisted, his smirk widening.
He clearly knew the unspoken truth—I couldn't refuse a VIP client, no matter how much I wanted to. These entitled clients were the ones I disliked most: arrogant and resistant to the word no.
"I'm sorry, but—"
"Drink! Drink! Drink!" The chant spread through the room like wildfire.
The air grew suffocating under the crowd's mocking gaze. I had no choice; resisting would only make it worse. Gritting my teeth, I grabbed the glass from his hand and downed the drink in one motion.
"There," I said, raising the empty glass like a trophy.
"Yay!" The room erupted in applause, their laughter grating on my nerves.
"Can I go now?" I asked, feigning sweetness.
"Of course," he said, lazily gesturing to the door with his smug grin plastered on his face.
I didn't wait for him to change his mind. My feet carried me swiftly to the exit, my heart pounding in my chest. Whatever that man was plotting, I didn't want to stick around to find out.
I exhaled in relief once outside, escaping the chaos of the previous room. Shaking off the tension, I headed down the hall to the next VIP room at the end.
Upon opening the door, I found three composed men inside, a stark contrast to the mess I had just left.
As I approached the table, my gaze landed on the man in the center. I froze for a moment, he was strikingly handsome, the kind of look that made you do a double take. I lingered longer than intended before quickly unloading the requested alcohol onto the nearest table.
The nearly empty whiskey bottle indicated they had been drinking for a while.
"I'm leaving," one man said, tapping the handsome one on the shoulder.
"Me too, boss," another added.
Their words hung in the air, awaiting his approval. With a lazy wave, he dismissed them, and they exited, leaving us alone.
His eyes locked onto mine, and for the first time, I felt their intense pull—dark and captivating. His thick, bushy eyebrows framed his face, enhancing his striking appearance.
"Pour me a drink," he said, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine.
Wordlessly, I grabbed a bottle and poured him a glass of whiskey. As I handed it to him, his gaze remained fixed on me, unwavering, even as he tipped the glass back and swallowed the bitter liquid.
With just the two of us, the room felt smaller, his commanding presence leaving me both uncertain and undeniably intrigued.
Suddenly, a wave of discomfort washed over me, and it wasn't just from his piercing gaze. Something was wrong. Terribly wrong.
A strange heat began spreading through my body, starting at my core and radiating outward. My head felt heavy, and a dizzying haze clouded my thoughts. The room seemed to sway around me, though I was standing still.
My skin burned, as if I were on fire from the inside out. Panic gripped me, my breaths coming in shallow, uneven gasps.
What the hell is happening to me?