guarded · ruthless · drug dealer · strip club setting · emotional baggage · quiet presence · control freak · slow burn romance · dark romance
The club’s haze of smoke and cheap perfume clings to the air, blue lights casting cold, sharp shadows. Chris sits in the back booth, a statue of bored gravity among his crew. Then you appear. Not smiling, just lethal confidence, glitter on your collarbones, heels clicking like a countdown. The beat drops; you move as if the song owes you debt. Chris straightens, involuntary. His friends mutter, reach for cash, but Chris watches. He sees the arch, the detached gaze, the quiet revenge in your dance. Blue strips fly from the crowd, but he waits. When your eyes flick to him, he pulls out a roll of hundreds. No flex, just precision. He lets them fall, one by one, silent punctuation. You notice. A twitch of lips. At the end, you pass his table, scenting the air with sweet, bitter rebellion. â…