Thank God for Isabella hiding the marks on my body without uttering a word. The boutique had doubled as an all-in-one beauty treatment center, and I had undergone a transformation I hadn’t expected. Peyton and Melody had received the same, though theirs was less extensive—they were used to this level of care, while for me, it was all new. I couldn’t help but feel like a factory doll, perfectly prepped and ready to be carted off to her new owner.

  As the car continued its journey, I glanced at the driver, his face impassive, his attention solely on the road. I knew without a doubt that he would be relaying everything back to Mateo. I pulled out my phone from the clutch I had been carrying since the night before, pretending to text as I deliberated on my next move. With careful movements, I typed out a message and discreetly showed it to Melody, asking for her help with birth control and a morning-after pill. Mateo hadn’t used a condom the night before or this morning and I had lost track of how many times he came in me. I wasn’t remotely ready to be a mother—now or ever.

  Melody glanced at the phone, her expression unchanging, and then smoothly commented. “That sounds good, just remember to pace yourself tonight. You don’t want to get too caught wasted. And stick with us—we’ll keep an eye on you.”

  Peyton nodded in agreement. “And don’t let anyone corner you alone. If you need to step away, take one of us with you. We’ll be your buffer. Not that your new fiancé would allow anyone within breathing distance.”

  That wasn’t even a legitimate concern of mine, but I hadn’t told them about the gift Mateo had sent me. I was still trying to process that on my own and how I’d discarded it. Mateo hadn’t asked where it was either. Thinking about it, that was odd. I smoothed my hands over the fabric of my dress, trying to keep my nerves at bay.

  Peyton reached over and took one of my hands in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “You’ll be okay, El. Remember we’re here too.”

  “And you look divine,” Mel added in an upbeat tone.

  “So do you,” I shot back.

  She looked like an absolute bombshell. Her dress was a deep, rich burgundy that clung to her curves in all the right places, an off-the-shoulder number that accentuated her neckline and flawless shoulders. Her dark hair was styled in loose waves that cascaded down her back, and her makeup was perfection—bold red lips, dramatic eyeliner, and just the right amount of highlighter to give her a glow that seemed almost ethereal. She looked like she had just stepped out of a high-fashion magazine. Then again, Melody was the kind of woman who could turn heads the moment she walked into a room--regardless of what she had on.

  Peyton was dressed in a tailored suit that fit him like a glove, his shirt open at the collar just enough to give off a relaxed yet polished vibe.

  “So, what do you guys know about where we’re going?”

  “We’ve never been. To get in requires a decent amount of cash and a ticket of some kind that doubles as a reservation, and even that doesn’t get you in the door. But I have heard about it, of course.” He leaned back slightly. “Encore is one of those places where the elite go to forget their problems and flaunt their wealth. It’s flashy, exclusive, and expensive as hell.”

  “I was told the whole place feels like something out of a dream.” Melody chimed in; her expression thoughtful.

  Peyton laughed. “Or a nightmare, depending on how you look at it.”

  "Thanks for that," I joked, trying to keep the mood light despite the nerves twisting in my stomach.

  His comment about nightmares felt a little too close to the truth. When we arrived at Encore, however, it was nothing like what I had started imagining. The building was sleek and modern, bathed in a red glow that made it look almost ominous against the darkening sky. Behind it, a high rise with the name Encore Suites. Both sat atop a large hill, isolated from the rest of the city. Men were stationed at the entrance, taking what looked like tickets, just as Peyton had mentioned. Their guns were visible on their hips.

  Luxury cars were split into two lines, each waiting to be admitted. Our car passed without being stopped, the men waving us through and signaling for others to move aside. As we approached the entrance, Peyton’s eyes widened. "Holy shit," he murmured.

  For him to say that meant it was truly impressive. I swallowed, taking in the sight of the men and women entering the club. They were all dressed impeccably—suits, button-downs, and dresses that looked like they cost more than most people made in a year. The women were stunning, each one seeming to belong to this world in a way I couldn’t imagine ever feeling.

  The grandeur of the place, the armed men, the sea of impeccably dressed people—it was all overwhelming. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, my breath catching as I tried to keep my nerves in check. We bypassed the main entrance, the driver taking a turn that led us through a set of iron gates that slid open without a sound. As we circled around the building, I could feel the tension in the car rising. Melody and Peyton were both sitting a little straighter, their eyes darting around as they took in the surroundings.

  The driver guided the car down a small ramp, leading us under the building. The change in lighting was immediate, a cooler, more subdued glow replacing the evening sunlight. We entered what was clearly a private parking garage, the polished floors gleaming under the soft lights embedded in the ceiling. A few luxury cars were already parked, each one as pristine and expensive as the last.

  My anxiety flared up again, my fingers tightening around the clutch in my lap. The sight of those cars, each one probably costing more than I could ever dream of affording, only added to the overwhelming sense of being out of place. Melody noticed and shot me a reassuring look, but I could see the concern in her eyes.

  Our ride came to a stop, and the driver turned off the engine. He didn’t say anything, just waited for the signal to let us out. Two men in dark suits approached us and one opened the door closest to Melody.

  “This way, please,” the other said, his voice smooth and professional as he gestured for us to enter the lift. As the doors slid shut behind us, the lift began to ascend, and the solid wall in front of us suddenly transformed into tempered glass.

  The club's interior was nothing short of breathtaking. It was a world unto itself, where luxury met decadence in a perfect storm. The main area was bathed in moody, atmospheric lighting that highlighted the rich tones of deep purples, golds, and blacks that dominated the space. The floors were sleek and polished, reflecting the ambient lights that danced across them, giving the illusion of movement beneath your feet.

  The seating arrangements were equally impressive, with plush velvet forming intimate alcoves for the elite clientele. Each area was surrounded by low tables with glass tops, lit softly from within.

  Above the main floor, towering columns reached up to a high ceiling, where chandeliers hung like modern art installations. The abstract designs mimicked the sparkle of stars, casting a warm, inviting glow over the entire space.

  One of the most striking features was the DJ booth, set within a large circular structure that resembled a portal to another world. The backdrop was an enormous, vivid screen displaying shifting images—clouds of red and black, a stormy sky that seemed to pulse with the beat of the music. Two sleek black panther statues flanked the booth, adding an almost primal edge to the sophisticated surroundings.

  In another part of the club, there were private stages, each with a singular pole, where performers—draped in shimmering fabrics—moved with ethereal grace. The lights there were more intense, spotlighting the performers in an array of colors, making their movements even more mesmerizing.

  We stepped out of the lift once the doors slid open to reveal a dimly lit hallway. The polished marble flooring reflected the soft glow from the potted trees wrapped in diamond lighting. It was quiet—too quiet—and the atmosphere held a weight that made my pulse quicken. At the end of the hall, a grand marble staircase spiraled upward, leading to two large, tinted glass doors. Without a word, the man in front of us stepped out, and we followed, our footsteps echoing softly against the marble.

  “Look,” Melody whispered, nodding toward a darkened corner by the double doors. I blinked and focused, finally noticing the man I’d completely missed, blending seamlessly into the shadows. He was dressed in simple suit pants and a plain button-down, but there was nothing plain about the intensity in his stance.

  My eyes drifted to the other corner, and, sure enough, another man was standing there, looking both bored and at full attention simultaneously.

  As we approached, they turned their heads in unison, stepping forward in perfect sync to open the doors. The moment we stepped through, I realized how deliberately every part of this place was designed to impress, intimidate, or both. The room we entered was expansive and luxurious, with plush seating, elegant lighting, and an unmistakable air of exclusivity. It wasn’t just the opulence that struck me—it was the realization that this wasn’t just a nightclub. This was Mateo’s domain, a place where deals were made, and people were either valued or dismissed by a single word from him.

  The walls were adorned with dark, textured wallpaper, and the dim lighting cast long shadows that accentuated the opulence of the space. Plush, oversized sofas in a deep, luxurious shade of black velvet were arranged around a sleek, low-slung coffee table made of polished onyx.

  The air was thick with the scent of expensive cologne and the faint but unmistakable aroma of smoke, mingling together in a heady concoction that felt almost intoxicating. The ceiling was adorned with an abstract light fixture that looked like shattered glass caught mid-explosion, casting fractured beams of light across the room.

  Shelves lined the walls, displaying an array of crystal decanters, each filled with rich, amber liquids that gleamed under the soft glow of the lights. In the center of the room, two women, topless and wearing only bunny-tailed thongs, moved in tandem around a polished chrome pole, their movements synchronized and almost hypnotic. Another two women, fully clothed but just as striking, lounged on one of the sofas, their eyes occasionally drifting to the men surrounding them.

  On the coffee table sat two diamond-encrusted platters of cocaine.

  Some had clearly been indulged, as evidenced by the smudged remnants of a few piles. The scene was one of excess wealth, a clear indication that nothing was off-limits here. Despite the distractions, my eyes were drawn to a familiar pair that stood out—Mateo’s. His gaze was locked onto mine, unwavering and intense, as if daring me to look away first. The corner of his mouth quirked up into a half-smile, a gesture that felt both reassuring and ominous at the same time.

  He stood up and approached us, his presence commanding the room. He was dressed differently than earlier, looking like a GQ image come to life. His tailored suit was impeccable, every detail perfectly in place, and his hair was slicked back with precision. As he reached us, everything he had done to me earlier came flooding back.

  "You look absolutely stunning," he murmured, taking my hand in his while leaning down to place a kiss on my cheek.

  His hand felt like a brand, marking me as his in front of everyone. He then turned to greet Peyton and Melody; his tone was friendly but with an underlying authority that made it clear who was in charge. After exchanging pleasantries, he introduced us to the others in the room.

  “This is my brother Elias and our cousin Sergio,” Mateo said as I settled into the luxurious space. Elias grinned at us, the resemblance to Mateo uncanny. He had the same dark, brooding features, only with a slightly boyish charm. His clean-shaven face and lighter eyes gave him a softer look, but there was no mistaking the family resemblance.

  Sergio, on the other hand, was bulkier, with striking green eyes and a more rugged appearance. A lithe blonde was seated beside him, engaged in a game of bones with Elias.

  “Ah, Elena, the beautiful new woman in my brother’s life,” Elias remarked, his grin widening. “I’ve been waiting to meet you.”

  I couldn’t bring myself to lie that I felt the same, and I could tell that was exactly the right response with him--none at all. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes, one that matched Mateo’s in a way that was both endearing and unsettling.

  “Next, we have Teddy and Diablo,” Mateo continued.

  Diablo looked like he could bench press tanks for fun, his muscles straining against his suit, while Teddy’s appearance lived up to his nickname—a bear of a man with long hair tied back, a soft yet dangerous air about him. Mateo’s final introduction was for a man who had been watching us with keen interest the second we stepped in. “And last but not least, my cousin, Angel.”

  This man’s gaze was sharp, assessing, and I could immediately sense that he was just as dangerous as Mateo, if not more so. The name rang a bell—Angel Escuro.

  He was the one who controlled Liberty City, another significant territory in the Escuro empire. His reputation preceded him, and the power he held was almost palpable. As Mateo continued speaking, introducing me to the people who seemed to orbit around him, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was being introduced to something far more sinister than just a new circle of acquaintances.

  Once he finished the introductions, he guided us further into the room, his hand still firmly on the small of my back, a gesture that was both possessive and reassuring. The others returned to their conversations, but I could feel their eyes flicking toward us intermittently, assessing us—me—with the same intensity they seemed to apply to everything else in this world. I was seated on a plush sofa, Mateo settling in beside me with a casual confidence that only heightened my awareness of him.

  My friends took seats nearby, and Peyton’s eyes darted around the room, taking in the opulent surroundings.

  Melody appeared more composed, though I could tell she was on high alert. Elias, with his boyish charm, leaned forward, an easy smile playing on his lips. “So, Elena,” he began, his tone light but with an underlying sharpness, “what did you think of Mateo when you first met him? He’s not exactly the warm and fuzzy type.”

  I hesitated, unsure how much to reveal in front of these strangers, who were clearly anything but harmless. My eyes flicked to Mateo, who was watching me closely, his expression unreadable.

  “Well,” I started carefully, “I didn’t exactly know what to think at first. He’s…intense.” That was putting it mildly.

  Elias chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “That’s one way to put it. Don’t worry, you get used to it.”

  His words were light, but they were much too close to what Mateo had told me as I was bent over his table. It took everything in me not to react visibly.

  Sergio, who had been quietly observing, joined in. “Intense is just the surface. There’s a lot more to Mateo than meets the eye.” His voice carried a deep timbre, the kind that demanded attention.

  Peyton, sitting across from me, leaned back, his casual demeanor contrasting with the sharp glint in his eyes. “That sounds like a warning,” he commented, a hint of protectiveness in his tone that made my heart tighten. Leave it to him to go up against a room full of crime lords and their underman on my behalf.

  Mateo’s hand squeezed mine gently, pulling my attention back to him. “Let’s not overwhelm her with too much all at once,” he said smoothly, his gaze holding mine.

  “Tonight isn’t meant for an interrogation. Or to worry her friends.”

  The subtle shift in his tone left no room for argument, and the others took the cue, turning the conversation toward lighter topics. As they spoke, I couldn’t help but feel like I was on display, a new piece in a game I barely understood. Every word and every glance seemed to carry layers of meaning, and I was painfully aware that this was only the beginning of my immersion into Mateo’s world. How the hell was I going to manage a large crowd of these people?

  Drinks were served, and I found myself holding a glass of something onyx-colored that I didn’t recognize. I hesitated, glancing at Peyton and Melody, who were each holding similar glasses. Peyton caught my eye, giving me a small, reassuring nod as he sipped from his. Melody, ever composed, took a delicate sip before returning her attention to the room.

  Seeing their confidence—or at least their outward show of it—I took a cautious sip. The liquid burned slightly as it went down, its warmth spreading through me and easing some of the tension coiled in my chest. Mateo leaned in close, his voice a low murmur meant only for me. “Relax, anjinho. You’re doing just fine.”

  His words were meant to reassure me, but they only heightened my awareness of how precarious my situation was and that even here, he was watching me closely. I was surrounded by people who were dangerous in ways I couldn’t fully comprehend, all of them bound by ties of blood and loyalty that I was now a part of, whether I wanted to be or not.

  I offered a weak smile in response, not trusting myself to speak. The earlier events of the day—the proposal, the table incident, and how I’d come all over him—still weighed heavily on my mind.

  Everything had happened so quickly, and now I was here, in the midst of his world, already playing a role I wasn’t ready for. Peyton, on the other hand, was still observing the room, his gaze occasionally returning to me with a protective edge that hadn’t been there before. As the night wore on, the conversations grew more animated, the atmosphere charged with a mix of companionship and something darker.

  The two women at the pole continued their performance, their movements fluid and practiced, but to me, the scene felt more like a display of power than anything else. The others seemed relaxed, indulging in the party favors laid out before them, but there was always a sense of alertness, a readiness to shift from leisure to business at a moment’s notice.

  Elias turned to Mateo with a grin, breaking the casual chatter. “So, what’s the plan for the evening, brother?”