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And then my savior, the one that looks exactly like Prince Charming from my childhood fairy tales, turns to look at me again.
He's tall, way taller than I am, and I played volleyball in middle school. He has thick, brown hair, neatly styled as if he’s on his way to a photo shoot. He's slightly unshaven, the way you always want a man to be when he kisses you. His high cheekbones and chiseled jaw give his face a masculine beauty. His big, dark brown eyes are looking at me so deeply that my heart skips a beat.
This is the kind of guy I’ve dreamed of spending a night with.
And the moment I want to thank him for saving me, he asks, "What the hell are you doing here?" His voice is harsh and unwelcoming, and he doesn't even try to hide his irritation.
Chapter Two
Daniel
I noticed her the moment she walked into the club. She looked so different from all the girls who come here, even though she tried very hard to blend in.
This girl doesn't have this vibe of a girl who's ready to do anything to get what she wants. The girls who come here look like shiny jewelry prepared for sale.
This girl is different. She's scared, and no matter how hard she tries to hide it, she still looks like a lamb trapped in a cage with wolves.
I wonder why she's here. Maybe she lost a bet, or perhaps she just wondered what it would be like to visit a club like this.
"What the hell are you doing here?" I ask, and she twitches out of surprise. Her big light green eyes are filled with fear.
I don't want to scare her, but I have to know why she’s here. First of all, because she just made me throw one of my regular clients out of the club. Secondly, because I suspect that she might be some kind of a blogger who wants to get new followers by writing about the most secret place in LA.
And I don't need that. This place is famous mostly because of how private it is. You have to get an invitation before coming here. And those invitations are not so easy to get. You have to be recommended by a member. And only after the security department has checked everything, does the electronic invitation arrive.
She opens her mouth to answer, but then I notice the hole in her dress at the waist. That asshole grabbed her so hard that he tore her dress.
I have to fix this; I can't let her go out almost naked in the middle of the night. That's why I say, "Follow me."
I start walking without even looking to make sure she’s following because I know she will. This place scares her so much that she'll do anything to get away from here as soon as possible.
When we enter the elevator, she stops for a second.
"Where are we going?" she asks with a trembling voice, and when I look at her face again, I realize that she's young, way more immature than I’d thought.
"You have to change, your dress is torn," I say and press the button to go upstairs to my suite, which is located on the upper floor of this hotel.
My hotel, as well as my club.
"But I don't have anything to change into," she whispers, barely audible, sounding guilty as if she was required to have a spare dress in her bag.
"I'll give you my shirt, and then I'll ask my driver to get you home," I say strictly, trying not to look at her anymore.
This girl attracts me and, for some reason, terrifies me at the same time. The way she walks, as if she's never been kissed, much less had sex; the way she looks at me with those huge green eyes like a cartoon princess from a Disney movie. I want to touch her if only to make sure she's real; the way she tucks her hair behind her ears, exposing a long, gorgeous neck with pale skin as if made for monsters like me to taste. The way she nervously bites her full rose lips, causing them to swell.
All of it makes my dick jump in anticipation.
I haven't even touched her. She's not even naked yet, but my cock is already half hard.Only from looking at her.As if we're going to my suite to have sex.Which we're not, I remind myself.
She's too young for me, way too immature, too innocent; it's evident that she’s barely twenty-one, which is the minimum age to get an invitation.
I glance at her once again because, obviously, I can't force myself not to. She's looking down at the floor, nervously playing with the bracelets on her wrist and trembling slightly in fear.
I want to touch her, to calm her down, press her body against mine, taste those full rose lips, and make her understand that no one will hurt her when she's with me.
No one but me.
She doesn't know it yet, but the real monster, the darkest devil in this club, is the person she’s following right now. If she only knew what I'm capable of and how cruel I can be, she would run away from me as soon as possible and never look back.
