And in that moment of severing connection with my real life, I experienced something I hadn't experienced since childhood: freedom.
Chapter 4
Theo
I'd fucked up.
Like, seriously messed up.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking as I gripped the bar counter. The memory of slamming into that tall, blond Viking kept replaying in my head. His icy blue eyes had flashed in surprise, and his lips had parted a bit. The scent of his cologne—expensive, crisp, and masculine.
And I'd slammed right into him like a fucking idiot.
“Theo, you with us?” Pedro's voice yanked me back to reality. He leaned across the bar, one eyebrow raised with a shit-eating smirk. “You've been polishing that same glass for five minutes. I think it's clean, brah.”
I blinked, looking down at the tumbler in my hands. “Sorry,” I mumbled, dropping it with the others. “Just... zoning out.” I sighed as my thoughts went back to the guy I bumped into. No one here wore a silk suit like that, radiating confidence and style.
It made me feel evenmorenaked than I already was.
The way he looked at me seemed to cut right through me, like he'd bend me over the nearest piece of furniture and do what he wanted, his gaze so intense that when I replayed that moment in my mind, I wanted to surrender to whatever he wanted.
“Anyway,” Pedro continued, oblivious to my internal crisis, “it sounded like an accident, right? They probably won't fire you for that.”
Thanks, dude.“I hope so. I can't afford to lose this job.”
Pedro handed me a crate of beer to stock in the cooler. “Besides, you're still in your trial period. You're not expected to be perfect.”
My trial period. Right. The fancy way of saying I wasn't yet servicing clients, still just a bartender trying to hold on to normalcy before diving into high-end sex work.
“When does The Master want you to start your... other duties?” Pedro asked, his voice gentler now.
I shrugged, concentrating on organizing the beer bottles. “He said he'd let me know when he thought I was ready. That he'd find the right client when the time came.”
“He's good at that, reading people, knowing what they need.” Pedro's expression softened with something like affection. “The Master may seem stern, but he cares about us in his own way.”
Ibrahim Nassar–The Master. The mere thought of him sent a shiver down my spine—not entirely unpleasant, but not comfortable either. He was intimidating, with his piercing gaze and authoritative presence.
“I just hope—”
The words got stuck in my throat as looked up and spotted the man himself.
Ibrahim Nassar moved with the quiet confidence of a predator, his dark eyes scanning the room before finding me. The white leather he wore clung to his frame like a second skin, showing off his tall, built physique as he strode purposefully in my direction.
Shit. The Master was never just here to chat. He walked closer, each step radiating authority. “Mr. Bennett,” he said, his voice smooth like polished stone. My heart raced in my chest.
“Yes?” I somehow croaked, feeling small under his scrutiny. I wiped my hands on my briefs, aware of how clammy they felt.
“I need to speak with you privately,” he said, no room for argument.
My stomach dropped as I nodded.
This was it. I was getting fired.
He led me away from the busy bar toward a secluded garden hidden behind tall hedges. The sound of the bustling crowd faded into a peaceful murmur as we stepped into the cool shade of the green space.
“Sit,” he commanded, gesturing to a stone bench beneath a flowering arbor.
My body obeyed without a second thought, anxiety tightening around my throat.
