The Debt I Agreed to Pay That Night at His Club

Nadia, Carla, and Lorena could hardly believe it. That man was seduction in its purest form, and any woman in the place could tell from three meters away. When I answered yes to his order, the three of them were thrown off, staring at me as if I had just done something insane that they secretly envied. Their eyes were so wide they almost popped out of their sockets.

—Bruna, what are you doing? —Lorena asked me.

Her concern hit me for a second. I couldn’t explain why, but there was fear in her gaze that made me reconsider my decision for an instant. Only for an instant.

His fingers slid slowly over my wrists, tracing their outline with almost obsessive precision. Every touch was an examination, a meticulous study, as if he could read in my skin secrets even I didn’t know I had. His gaze, fixed and piercing, kept me in a constant state of alert.

There was something about that man that completely unbalanced me. His imposing presence, the impeccable black suit, the authority he exuded without the slightest effort… everything about him demanded respect. But at the same time, his determination, that way of holding me as if nothing in the world could pull me away from his side, and that dark magnetism he radiated were igniting in me something as disturbing as it was irresistible.

—Come… let’s go this way —he said in a deep voice, every word loaded with certainty.

He took my hand with a force that admitted no argument and pulled me along. As we passed one of his security men, he leaned just enough to whisper something in his ear. Then, without letting go of me, he intertwined his fingers with mine, as if sealing a silent pact, and led me toward a dim hallway where the darkness seemed ready to keep any secret for us.

In a matter of seconds we were in his office. Although the room had changed slightly, it was still the same place I had imagined. With a little more light, the atmosphere was almost cozy, but the sense of control that space exerted remained intact. A large black leather armchair occupied the side wall, imposing, almost like a guardian. On the opposite side, another armchair, from which he usually watched every corner of his club, seemed to be watching me too.

—This way —he repeated.

His hand, now gentler but just as firm, guided me by the waist. The heat of his touch cut through my clothes, and before I could look away, he had already led me to a door hidden behind a heavy burgundy curtain.

—Where does this lead? —I asked, trying not to let my voice betray the curiosity devouring me.

—You’ll find out soon enough. —His tone, deep and certain, left no room for more questions—. What do you want to drink?

—What I’ve been trying to order all night… whiskey with cola.

A spark of defiance slipped into my words.

—Shhh… —His gaze hardened as his voice sharpened—. Don’t be insolent. Behave.

The silence that followed was dense, almost solid. I felt that warning wasn’t just a scolding, but an invisible line he had just drawn between us. Crossing it would have consequences I still couldn’t imagine.

Who did he think he was, talking to me like that?

No matter how attractive he was, no matter how much that elegant bearing and that predator’s stare stirred me inside, I wasn’t going to let him treat me that way. Not even if he came down from Olympus dressed as a Greek god.

I straightened my back and felt my voice take on an edge I didn’t always dare to show.

—Don’t ever speak to me like that again. I’m not one of your dogs for you to talk to me that way.

I couldn’t explain how what came next happened. In a blink, the kindness he’d shown vanished like smoke, and in its place emerged something darker, wilder. His body moved with a decision that gave me no time to react.

He shoved me. Not with gratuitous violence, but with a calculated force, just enough for my back to slam against the wall. The impact knocked the air out of me, and before I could pull away he had me trapped, his body taking up all my space, his heat flooding every inch of my skin without quite touching me.

—What do you think you’re doing? —I managed to say, though my voice sounded shakier than I would have liked.

He tilted his head, so close I felt the brush of his breath on my cheek, and pinned his eyes to mine with an intensity that rooted me in place.

—No… —he said slowly, in a low tone heavy with promises and warnings—. You’re not one of my dogs. What you’re going to be… —he stopped, letting the silence wrap around me— is mine.

The world seemed to shrink in that instant until it fit in the nonexistent distance between his voice and my skin. I knew he was playing a game whose rules I hadn’t written, but one in which I had already wagered more than I was willing to admit.

When those barbaric words slipped from his lips, I felt like I was going to explode. Indignation rose through my throat like fire. I wanted to shout at him, hit him, wipe that arrogance off his face with a slap. But reality was very different.

His voice, so close to my ear, had left an invisible pressure in my chest, a wave running through my entire body that had nothing to do with anger. His words had touched a dark, hidden corner of me, one I didn’t understand… but that burned.

His gaze, almost blasphemous, pierced me as if he wanted to tear the truth out of me from within. And the worst part of all was that it was working. No man had ever provoked me like this.

What the hell was this? Why did it turn me on when he called me his? Why, deep down, did the idea of belonging to him make me burn?

—Let me get out of here… please, let me go —I begged, though even my own words sounded weak.

—You agreed to come with me. You already have your drink. Now you can’t leave.

—What do you mean I can’t leave? Are you holding me here?

—Not at all. You’re free to leave when you pay your debt to me.

—Debt? What debt are you talking about?

—You agreed to come in exchange for your drink. That comes at a price… and I decide how you’re going to pay it.

—Let me go —I insisted, with less and less conviction.

He didn’t answer. He simply moved farther into the room, no longer touching me, no longer holding me back. And yet my feet seemed anchored to the floor. There were no chains, but I couldn’t move.

***

When the pressure of having him so close eased, I started looking around me. What I saw chilled my blood and sped up my pulse at the same time.

The walls, lined with stone and leather. The metallic, sweet smell of oil mixed with wood. Chains, shackles, implements whose purpose no one needed to explain to me.

I had heard of places like this. I had even seen images, cold photographs that conveyed nothing… until that night.

I didn’t need to ask. I knew. I was in a dungeon.

A thousand atrocities raced through my head at that moment, atrocities that sent me into panic. I lifted my gaze and, despite my fear, aligned my eyes with his. What I got from him, however, was a serene look.

—Relax, you have nothing to fear. I won’t use any of what you see… unless you beg me to. And if that happens, you’ll have to earn it.

—Are you going to hurt me? —The question burst from my lips all at once.

—Never, princess. That’s not what I want from you. —His tone was calm, almost tender.

He was seeking my trust. He wanted to give me a calm that would let him get from me exactly what he wanted.

—Then what do you want from me? I can’t trust you.

—I just want to get to know you. —He sounded convincing.

—An odd way to do it, don’t you think?

In truth, and despite the shadow that room cast over me, I couldn’t help it: I was curious about what things he didn’t intend to use with me. Some of the objects resting there, silent, seemed to watch me in return and, to my surprise, awakened in me an interest I didn’t want to admit. I would have liked to have the courage to ask him about each one, to touch them, to feel their weight in my hands.

I took a step closer, almost without realizing it, toward a row of leather straps hanging on the wall. The low light pulled dull reflections from the buckles. He noticed. Of course he noticed. Nothing escaped him.

—Go on —he said, not moving from where he stood—. Touch it. I want to see what you choose.

I snatched my hand back as if the leather had burned me. No. The only thing I should be thinking about was getting out of there as soon as possible.

—I’m not touching anything —I replied, trying to regain control of my voice.

—You’re a terrible liar, Bruna. —He smiled for the first time, and that smile was more dangerous than any threat—. Your mouth says one thing and your eyes have been saying another for a while now. I’m just waiting for them to agree.

I swallowed. He was right, and that was what scared me most. Not the leather, or the chains, or the closed door behind my back. What terrified me was the way my own body had started betraying me, beating in places it shouldn’t, breathing deeper than necessary.

He sat down in the big leather armchair, crossed one leg over the other, and watched me with the patience of someone who knows he has all the time in the world.

—Sit down —he said, pointing to a spot in front of him—. I’m not going to touch you. Tonight we’re only going to talk. That’s the first installment of your debt.

—Talk? —I repeated, incredulous.

—Talk. I want you to tell me what brought you to my club with those two friends. What you were looking for. What scared you so much about accepting a simple drink.

I stayed standing for a few more seconds, weighing the trap. Because it was a trap, I knew it. Sitting down meant accepting his rules, entering his game, acknowledging that the debt existed. But leaving… leaving meant giving up on finding out how far this went, and a part of me, one I barely recognized, wasn’t willing to give up yet.

I walked slowly to the seat he’d indicated and sank into it. The leather was cold beneath my thighs. He smiled again, satisfied, as if he had just won a hand without showing a single card.

—Good girl —he murmured—. Let’s start with your full name. And with what your body has been asking me for all night without you daring to say it out loud.

I pressed my lips together. Outside, on the other side of the burgundy curtain, the club music kept playing, oblivious to everything. Here inside there was only him, me, and a debt whose price I still hadn’t dared to calculate.

And, God forgive me, part of me wanted the bill to be long.

—Selene —I said at last—. My name is Selene.