A sharp knock preceded the abrupt entrance of a man who nodded toward the closed door behind me, his voice clipped. "Boss, we've got a new one."

I hesitated, caught between the urge to retreat and the necessity to follow. My eyes flicked toward the imposing figure seated beyond the threshold. The man known as Jake shot me a glare that brooked no argument. "Why are you just standing there? Get in here."

Swallowing my apprehension, I stepped inside. The room laid before me was a masterclass in opulence—black and gold accents gleamed under the crystalline chandelier's light, heavy velvet curtains framed tall windows, and plush leather couches beckoned, all speaking to a world far removed from the life I knew. In the corner, a polished pole glinted, its presence impossible to ignore.

Jake’s voice broke through my absorption. "Valentina," he said, drawing my attention back to the present. I met his gaze and responded with a hesitant, "Yes."

Had he caught me gawking like a fool? I cursed my own naivety. But then again, what else was new?

With a smirk that suggested he found amusement in my discomfort, Jake turned toward the man behind the desk. "I'll leave her to you, boss. Trust me, she’s going to be good for the club," he said before vanishing as quickly as he had come.

My eyes drifted to the figure seated behind the ornate desk. Time seemed to slow as I took in the sight. He resembled a deity carved from marble—dark hair perfectly tousled, piercing blue eyes that seemed to dissect me, and a physique that strained against the tailored suit like a second skin.

A flutter of nerves stirred deep in my chest. He held my gaze with an intensity that made my knees tremble. I reminded myself, sternly, that he was my boss and that I needed to keep my composure.

Silence thickened the air; not a single word passed his lips. The weight of his stare unsettled me more than I cared to admit. Why hadn’t he spoken yet? Was I a joke to him? The seconds stretched endlessly.

Swallowing hard, I forced myself to break the silence. "Good evening. My name is Valentina Russo," I said, cheeks burning as I avoided his eyes.

His presence didn’t require words to convey dominance; every inch of him radiated control. And confoundingly, that stirred a mixture of unease and an inexplicable heat inside me. As I spoke, his dark eyes remained fixed on me, unblinking.

Trying to steady my racing heart, I glanced away. The tension in the room was suffocating. Was I about to embarrass myself? Too late to turn back now.

Without warning, he rose, the movement smooth and predatory. Circling the desk, he leaned forward, arms crossed, and gestured sharply. "Now, strip," he commanded, his voice low and laced with an accent.

My mind reeled. Did I hear that correctly? The words echoed in my head, absurd and chilling. Was this some twisted test?

"What are you waiting for? Take off your clothes," he ordered again, eyes burning into mine.

I stammered, caught off guard. "I... um..." My voice faltered. Surely, this was a cruel joke. Was every woman hired here subjected to this?

He let out an exasperated scoff. "You’re not waiting for me to strip you down, are you?"

The thought of baring myself in front of this stranger, this powerful man, left me speechless and trembling. I had never been in a situation like this, and panic surged within me.

Swallowing my pride, I murmured, "I’m sorry. I didn’t realize this was part of the interview."

His gaze hardened as he leaned back. "You want to work as a stripper at my club but won’t show me what you can do? Pathetic. Get out. Now."

The word struck me like a blow. Stripper? No, that wasn’t why I was here. I had come to apply for a waitressing position, nothing more.

"No! I didn’t come here to strip. I applied to be a waitress," I insisted, desperation creeping into my voice.

His face gave nothing away, impassive and cold as stone. The silence stretched again, heavy and suffocating. Should I just leave? Go home and hide beneath my blankets where none of this could touch me?

Then he pulled out his phone, pressing it to his ear, speaking rapidly in a language foreign to me. I caught the sharpness in his tone, the urgency. My eyes drifted around the room—every item meticulously arranged, a stark contrast to the chaotic energy Jake had brought with him.

"Idi syuda seychas, ty v der'me," he said, his voice tense.

The meaning was lost on me, but the threat was palpable.

I realized then that this world was far darker and more twisted than I’d imagined. Whatever path I’d stumbled onto, there was no turning back now.