On a hot summer night, neon lights flickered, dimming the once-clear starry sky.
Aurora Tempest stood before the dazzling Blue Moon Club, her face pale and bloodless, her steps hesitant.
Her reddened eyes fixated on the laughing, entwined couples emerging from inside. After a brief moment of steeling her resolve, she finally stepped through the door.
"Miss, what can I do for you?" a sultry voice purred from behind.
Turning, Aurora found a fashionable woman in a low-cut mini skirt, her makeup meticulous.
The woman's long, slender fingers—painted with black nail polish—held a cigarette between her index and middle fingers as she exhaled slowly. Her indifferent gaze only deepened Aurora's discomfort.
"I…" Aurora began, her voice trembling, still echoing the tears she had shed moments before.
Apparently accustomed to the transient nature of such encounters, the woman allowed a slight, emotionless smile to curl her lips.
"Pick one," she said coolly. "I guarantee you'll forget all your troubles…"
Shyness and awkwardness flushed Aurora's delicate features. Rosy patches bloomed on her pale cheeks, and her large, sparkling eyes brimmed with dread.
Though her frail body trembled, she kept her back straight, stubbornly concealing her inner anxiety. Her hands fidgeted uncontrollably, and despite the blush coloring her face, her vulnerability—almost aggressively so—drew the attention of those around her.
Taking a deep breath, she lifted her eyes to scan the room.
At that moment, a man in a black stand-up collar shirt stepped forward. With a slender, towering frame and jet-black hair framing deep, dark eyes, his chiseled features exuded an indifferent authority that irresistibly commanded attention.
Like the brightest star in the night sky—impossible to reach yet impossible not to chase—he captivated both men and women alike.
Whispers rippled among the onlookers; a casual nod from him sent nearby gazes darting away, as his innate regal aura left no one unaffected. His arrival stilled the club for a heartbeat, the atmosphere suspended in anticipation.
Gritting her teeth, Aurora extended her delicate hand and pointed directly at him.
"I want him," she declared.
In an instant, the room fell into a deeper silence, as if time itself had frozen, and every pair of eyes fixed on her in astonishment.
The man paused, his icy gaze sweeping over her as his handsome features took on an appraising expression.
Noticing her nervous fidgeting, the way she bit her lip while still pointing at him—her large eyes a mix of fear and defiance, and even her neatly formed toes curling slightly with tension—he found himself unexpectedly intrigued.
Then, a smile broke over his face. "Very well."
Staring at his suddenly radiant smile, Aurora felt an inexplicable chill. His dark eyes, though smiling, sent shivers down her spine.
Before she could recover, she felt her cold fingertips enveloped by a large, warm hand, which abruptly pulled her toward the exit.
"What are you doing?" she cried out in alarm.
The man halted, glanced at her, and replied with a smile, "Performing."
He stepped closer, his features still alight with mirth but his eyes inscrutable, closing the distance between them.
Seeing her fall silent, he curved his lips into a subtle smile and, without giving her a chance to object, firmly led her out. His every movement brooked no refusal, and that inexplicable, overwhelming pressure washed over her again.
Barely outside, a black car pulled up slowly. Without hesitation, he shoved her inside.
"Where are you taking me?" she asked, her voice laced with fear.
Grinning broadly, he replied, "You summoned me to perform. Since you didn't specify a destination, I'll choose it for you. Or do you intend to take me home?"
"Home?" At the mere mention of that word, all of Aurora's panic vanished. She lowered her eyes, attempting to mask her pain, and fell silent.
The man observed her change in demeanor, and his smile faded. His dark eyes turned into a still, bottomless pool, so deep and impenetrable that everything seemed to be sucked into them.
Catching a glimpse of her eyes, now awash with anguish, he silently nodded to the driver, and the car sped off.
It soon pulled up in front of a hotel.
Before Aurora could process what was happening, she was dragged into a room.
The luxurious decor, exquisite furnishings, and top-tier facilities all attested that this was, if she wasn't mistaken, the city's finest five-star hotel—Kritol House.
Moments later, she was roughly tossed onto a bed.
Sylvester Pendrake, the man with the commanding presence, leaned over the edge, his hands resting on the bed as he looked down at the woman beneath him.
His eyes, half-amused and half-calculating, asked, "The customer always comes first. How would you like me to serve you?"
"N-No, please don't…" Aurora stammered, trembling uncontrollably.
At that moment, every bit of courage she had mustered evaporated. There was something undeniably dangerous about this man. Even his smile carried an invasive force that left her struggling for breath.
She tried to push him away, but her strength was feeble. "I was just joking… Please stop. I don't need any service. I'll pay the fee anyway!"
"That won't do," he retorted sharply. "It would ruin my reputation. I'd lose my job."
"Please… I'll just keep quiet…" she pleaded.
"No, no. I must uphold my professional ethics."
"But…" Aurora began to protest, only to have her lips abruptly sealed.
What had started as a teasing game quickly turned overwhelming.
The moment their lips met, Sylvester was intoxicated. Her soft lips, carrying a delicate fragrance and a hint of youthful freshness, ensnared him in a way he'd never experienced before—he was utterly captivated.
"Mmm…" he murmured.
Before she knew it, a stranger's kiss had overtaken her.
In a state of panic, Aurora flailed helplessly, unable to dislodge him from her body.
"Stop… this…" she tried to cry, her words muffled as if the very air were being drawn from her, leaving her breath ragged and her speech incoherent.
The more she struggled to break free, the tighter he clung—his hands roaming her body as if he had no intention of letting go.
What was he doing? Where were his hands? Why were they all over her?
'No! How did it come to this? How are my clothes coming off? Stop, this isn't right!' she screamed silently, even as her mouth was stifled.
Her small hands pounded on his strong body, but his resistance was insurmountable. She felt as if she were suffocating, on the verge of collapse—so utterly unbearable.
Just when she believed she could endure no more, Sylvester finally released her, gasping for air as he tried to compose himself.
"Not satisfied?" he asked, a mocking lilt in his tone.
Blushing furiously, Aurora looked up at the towering man. In the depths of his dark eyes, she saw the reflection of her own panicked expression.
For a moment, she found herself inexplicably drawn to his intoxicating dominance, so captivated that she almost forgot to resist.
