The city never really slept—it just changed masks. The skyline shimmered in the distance like it had something to prove, but down on the ground, everything was darker, messier, and real. Liem Kade liked it better that way.
Inside his penthouse office, high above the chaos, Liem stood at the edge of the glass, smoke curling from his lips, fading into the city’s dying light. Below him, life pulsed like a wound trying to heal.
Behind him, the door creaked open.
Carol stepped in, perfume sharp and red dress sharper. The slit on her leg reached
ambition-levels high, and she moved like the world should bend for her.
“The senators’ invite—for tomorrow’s grand opening. Will you attend?” she asked, voice cool but edged with something hopeful.
Liem didn’t turn. Just another drag from his cigarette. Another long, unbothered exhale.
“Yes.”
One word. Clean. Final.
Carol’s lips twitched. “I’ll arrange everything. Goodnight, Sir.”
He didn’t answer. She didn’t wait.
She closed the door behind her with silent grace, heels clicking through the marble halls like punctuation marks on her dreams.
LOBBY LEVEL
Carol walked like she owned the place—even if whispers said she didn’t earn it. She didn’t care. Eyes forward, chin high. Liem Kade had returned, and she was on his arm—or close enough.
As she passed a group of receptionists, the hush dropped.
“God, look at her.”
“She’s been different ever since he came back.”
“Like she’s already measuring the curtains in his bedroom.”
Carol didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. She’d played the long game before, and this time, she wasn’t going to lose.
THE LOCAL LOUNGE — LATE NIGHT
The city’s pulse thickened here. Neon signs buzzed like old promises. Music throbbed from the walls. The air smelled like sweat, perfume, and sin dressed in sequins.
Mayla slipped in through the back entrance like always. She hated the front—the eyes, the judgment, the soft hands pretending to tip too well.
Back here, it was girls and grit.
She dropped her bag at her station, flopped into her chair in front of the mirror, and stared. She looked tired. Beautiful, but tired. Like someone who’d been outrunning something for too long.
A sudden squeeze wrapped around her
shoulders.
“Mayla!” came Tyla’s unmistakable squeal. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”
Mayla gave her a half smile. “Sorry. Things got… messy.”
Tyla narrowed her eyes. “You bailed on the new bar. You never bail.”
“I had too much to drink,” Mayla lied smoothly. “Didn’t even remember getting home.”
Tyla didn’t buy it. “You blackout now? Since when?”
Mayla shrugged and reached for her concealer. “Guess last night was… one of those.”
Tyla studied her like a scientist with a mystery. “You sure you’re okay?”
Mayla gave a hollow chuckle. “Define okay.”
Tyla rolled her eyes. “Whatever. But notice anything new about me?” She puffed her chest like it was about to announce itself.
Mayla blinked. “Um… new lashes?”
Tyla gasped. “No, you idiot. The girls! I finally did it.”
Mayla stared, squinting. “Wait. You got
implants?”
“Yes! And they’re perfect.” She bounced
slightly, proud like a kid showing off new shoes.
Mayla laughed, but it faded fast. She winced slightly, as if the sound scraped something raw in her throat.
Before she could recover, the dressing room door burst open.
Ramona stormed in—forty-something,
unforgiving, with a stack of outfits and zero patience. Her voice cracked like a whip.
“Save the giggles. We’re on in ten. Dress up or get out.”
“Yes, boss,” Mayla and Tyla chimed, fake cheerful.
Ramona didn’t smile. Just rolled her eyes and walked out muttering, “you two are always planning something don’t mess up my Bar
today.”
ON THE FLOOR
Mayla changed in silence. The red dress hugged every angle like a secret it didn’t want to tell. Deep neckline. Backless. Split up one leg like temptation had taken tailoring lessons.
When she stepped out onto the floor, the music shifted—lowered, slowed, thickened. The lights dimmed, focusing, watching.
And so was he.
In the farthest booth, wrapped in shadow and lit only by the ember of a cigarette, sat Liem Kade.
He didn’t come here to be seen.
He came to see.
The cherry of his cigarette burned softly between his fingers. One arm draped over the leather booth, the other resting near a tumbler of untouched scotch. He watched Mayla with the precision of a man who noticed too much and said too little.
She moved through the crowd like water, like silk, like danger. The room bent for her without knowing why.
And she felt it.
A chill down her spine. A tingle in her chest. That invisible pull—eyes on her. Not the usual kind. Not hungry or careless. But sharp.
Unapologetic. Predatory.
She glanced over her shoulder, pretending not to care.
But she saw him.
And something in her stopped.
Not fear. Not interest. Something else. Like recognition… of something she should run from but probably wouldn’t.
Their eyes locked for the briefest second.
Liem’s lips curled—not quite a smile, not quite anything.
He tapped ash into a crystal tray. And waited.
...****************...
EARLYLIER.
Liem stubbed the cigarette into the ashtray, grabbed his coat, and headed out. Tonight, he needed release.
THE HOUSE
The building loomed like a fortress, sleek black glass and golden accents etched into its
towering figure. “THE HOUSE” blazed in bold letters across the top, glowing like a warning and a promise all at once.
Inside, it was opulence painted in sin. Gilded chandeliers hung like inverted crowns, velvet shadows clung to corners, and laughter echoed like secrets shared by ghosts. The air pulsed with heavy bass and even heavier
desires.
Liem entered with measured steps, his
bodyguard shadowing him. Heads turned, conversations paused. He moved like thunder wrapped in silk—tall, dark, lethal.
At the VIP booth, his long-time friend Kalen greeted him with a smirk and a glass of
something expensive.
“Took you long enough,” Kalen said, gesturing toward the plush seat beside him. “Figured I’d have to drag you out of that damn coffin of an office.”
“You did,” Liem replied, voice like smoke and frost.
The booth was already a small kingdom of its own. Girls draped in fabric that barely passed for clothing circled like moths drawn to an
impossible flame. They laughed too loudly, leaned too close, whispered things they didn’t believe just to touch a piece of him.
But Liem was far away, even as he sat there, drink in hand. Unmoved.
Until she walked in.
—
Mayla
The music shifted—low and teasing—like it knew what was coming.
She stepped into the red-lit room like she was born from it. Her red dress clung to her like a secret. It slipped over her curves and draped down her legs with enough slit to draw breath but not enough to give it. Her hair cascaded down her back in dark waves, swaying with her every step.
Conversation faltered. Eyes tracked her. The world seemed to narrow.
But Mayla didn’t notice. She was in her zone, her heartbeat syncing with the music as she claimed the floor without asking. Her heels tapped a silent rhythm—one that said she
belonged here. Not just belonged… dominated.
She danced.
Not the kind of dance men pay to watch. This was something else. Every move was
deliberate. Poised. Dangerous. Like she was telling a story in a language no one else spoke, and still… everyone listened.
Liem was still.
She moved like a blade hidden beneath
silk—slow, sharp, lethal.
She wasn’t just beautiful. She was
untouchable. And that made her dangerous.
The kind of dangerous Liem craved.
He leaned forward, elbows on knees, drink
forgotten. Around him, girls still giggled and reached for his attention. He didn’t blink.
“Kalen,” he muttered, voice low.
“Hmm?”
“The girl in red. Who is she?”
Kalen squinted. “Ah. Mayla.” He gave a slow nod. “New favorite around here. Sharp mouth, quick wit. Not the kind you can buy, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
Liem smirked, eyes still locked on her. “Even better.”
Mayla ended her performance with a slow turn, catching the glimmer of dozens of eyes locked on her. Applause broke out—raw,
unfiltered, real. She gave a faint nod and slipped off the stage, unaware that her every move had pulled a thread in something she couldn’t see.
Back at the booth, Liem was no longer
watching the room. He was watching her.
The predator had found his prey.
But what he didn’t realize was—
This prey bites back.
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