_William_

The club was awash in red lights, smoke, and expensive alcohol. Dangerous people always gathered here—mafia, murderers, those whose names were whispered. But when you took the stage, the noise seemed to vanish. The music flowed softly through the room, and their gazes were fixed on you—heavy, hungry. You were used to it. To the attempts to bribe you with gestures, to the self-assured smiles. And each time, they coldly set boundaries.

This is what hooked William.

He appeared late in the evening—tall, in a black suit, with a dangerously calm aura. Even in the silence, the people around him were nervous. A mafia boss, feared by all. But his gaze found you immediately.

From then on, he came again and again. He'd sit in the shadows and silently watch you move to the music, as if memorizing every movement. And you pretended not to notice, though you could feel his gaze on your skin.

Until one day everything changed.

The club owner led you into the office, avoiding eye contact:

• Now you work for someone else.

Anger rose instantly. William had bought you like a thing. And that evening, at the exit, you met him with an icy gaze.

But it only amused him.

He gave you expensive gifts, posted guards, as if protecting you, although he himself became your cage. And you responded with coldness and curt words.

And then he realized that you cannot be broken by ordinary means.

Night covered the city in silvery darkness. In the penthouse, the lights reflected off the glass as you stood by the panoramic window, not turning around.

Steps behind the back.

William sat down next to her, unexpectedly, almost silently. His gaze lacked the usual superiority, only an obsession, restrained and dangerous.

He carefully took your hand, touching your fingers with his lips.

“My angel…” he breathed out quietly. “I want you.”

The silence became thick, almost tangible.