CHAPTER 1 : The Basement Bargain
The man zipped up his fly, patted Clara’s head like she was a damn pet, and swaggered out the door. “Thanks kid, See you next week.”
Clara exhaled through her nose, ignoring the stale sweat clinging to her skin, ignoring the acrid scent of cheap cologne and regret still hovering in the room. It was a familiar cocktail, one she’d become accustomed to.
She stretched out on the bed, one arm flung over her eyes, trying to block out the dim, oppressive light. Two minutes, That was how long it took for Maya to crawl in, nose wrinkling before she even spoke.
“Eww... He’s gross Ugh.”
Clara barked out a laugh, the sound a little too sharp, a little too hollow. “No shit”
Maya approached the bed but hesitated, her fingers hovering just above the sheets like they might spontaneously combust.
“Oh my god,” she groaned, dramatic as always. “I was literally about to—” She recoiled with a gag. “I need to sleep for a century to forget this.”
“Then sleep,” Clara teased, flipping onto her stomach, burying her face in the threadbare mattress. “It’s not like you get much work done anyway.”
Maya shot her a glare that could curdle milk. “Listen up, you little shit—”
A sharp smack landed on Clara’s ass. She yelped, dodging to the side as Maya cackled, a high-pitched, wheezing sound.
“So rude,” Clara huffed, yanking a random bundle of clothes off the floor. They smelled faintly of lavender and desperation, a scent she’d come to associate with home. “I’m outta here.”
“Love you,” Maya called sweetly, her voice dripping with sarcasm. ” Except I kinda hate you too.”
Clara rolled her eyes, stepping out into the dimly lit hallway. The air hung thick and heavy, saturated with the unspoken anxieties of the building’s inhabitants. She saw a lot of people in one night. Desperate men, lonely women. The ones who carried shame like a second skin, and the ones who didn’t. She saw cruelty masked as entitlement. She saw brief flashes of kindness, offered like lifelines. But mostly, she saw people at their most raw and broken.
And yet, she had never seen anyone like Ethan.
Ethan was rich. Not just money-rich, the kind that faded with a bad investment. He was power-rich. The kind that put his name in headlines, the kind that bought influence and silence with equal ease. The kind that made people stop and stare, wondering what secret deal he’d made with the devil.
A child genius, A star athlete, A businessman, actor, singer, dancer—whatever the hell he wanted to be, he seemingly mastered it effortlessly. The world bent for people like him, offering opportunities on silver platters.
Clara, on the other hand, was nothing. A ghost in the machine. A girl who lived hand-to-mouth, who took whatever she could get, because there was nothing else. She was background noise, easily dismissed, easily overlooked.
And Ethan? Ethan had everything.
So when he strutted into Clara’s dingy, sweltering basement of a workplace, heads turned. Leather boots that probably cost more than her rent. Designer sunglasses that covered half his face, even though it was perpetually twilight in this place. A sleek black mask hiding the rest, adding an air of mystery, or perhaps, just plain arrogance.
He moved like he owned the place. And maybe he did. Maybe he owned everything.
“I’d like a night with your most expensive girl,” he announced, voice smooth but bored, like he was ordering a coffee.
Maya, perched behind the counter like a queen on her throne of chipped Formica, arched an eyebrow. “And I’d very much like to know what a person like you is doing in a place like this.”
Ethan’s gaze didn’t waver. It was cold, assessing, like he was dissecting her soul with a scalpel. “Is that actually something you need to know?”
Maya’s expression tightened. This wasn’t about curiosity; it was about protection. “If I’m handing over one of my girls, I need to know they’ll be safe.”
Ethan exhaled, a ghost of a smile curving his lips. “Fair enough.” He leaned in slightly, the scent of money and expensive aftershave filling the small space. “I’m just bored.”
Maya eyed him for a long moment, weighing her options, judging his character. Then, finally, she called over her shoulder, “Clara. Bring Lena. She’s probably our most talented at keeping people entertained.”
Clara bit her tongue and nodded, forcing a smile that felt brittle and fake. But something about this whole thing sat wrong in her stomach, a knot of unease tightening with each passing second.
Lena was beautiful. The kind of beautiful men worshipped, the kind they built empires for. If Ethan wanted the best, Lena was it. She was the sun, and Clara was just a shadow.
So Clara ran to find her, delivered the message, and stood by while Ethan booked his time, the crisp bills rustling in Maya’s hand.
It didn’t shake her. Not until Ethan walked out again an hour later, sunglasses back on, mask in place, and simply shrugged.
“It was alright, I guess. Better next time.”
He left his payment on the counter and walked out, leaving a wake of stunned silence behind him.
And everyone froze.
Lena? Lena was just alright?
Maya masked her shock with a tight smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Clara, go check on her.”
Lena sat on the edge of the bed, her face hidden in her hands, her shoulders shaking silently.
“What is it?” Clara asked softly, sitting beside her, her own anxieties momentarily forgotten.
Lena exhaled shakily. “I’m fine.”
But Clara knew better. She’d seen that look before, the crumbling facade, the desperate attempt to maintain control.
“Did he—did he do anything weird?” she pressed, her voice barely a whisper.
Lena was quiet, the silence stretching out between them, thick and suffocating. Then, finally—
“He didn’t want me.”
Clara blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“He just... stopped. Told me I wasn’t his type.” Her voice was thick with suppressed tears.
Clara recoiled, baffled. Who rejected Lena? With her golden curls, her wicked smile, her body sculpted by gods themselves? It was unheard of.
“That’s impossible,” Clara scoffed, half-joking, trying to lighten the mood.
Lena let out a dry laugh, devoid of humor. “Tell that to him.”
Clara clenched her fists, a surge of anger coursing through her veins. “What a dick. Don’t let him get to you, okay? He’s probably just some pretentious asshole who gets off on making people feel small.”
Lena gave a weak smile, a flicker of gratitude in her eyes. “Yeah, You’re probably right.”
But Clara knew she was right. And next time she saw Ethan, she swore he wouldn’t leave looking so pretty, so untouched, so perfectly immune to the damage he inflicted.
The next day, Ethan came back.
Clara, Maya, and Lena weren’t even working—just lounging around, half-drunk, playing cards, a joint lazily making its rounds. The day was slow, the air stagnant, and a collective sense of apathy hung over them like a shroud.
When the door creaked open, Maya didn’t even glance up before saying, “The prince has returned.” She mock-saluted, her eyes still glued to her hand. “Alas, your highness, we’re the only ones here. I don’t think any of us meet your sophisticated standards.”
Clara smirked, shuffling the deck with practiced ease. She was winning, and a small victory felt good.
Then she looked up. And Ethan was staring directly at her, his gaze intense, unwavering.
“Can I have her?” he asked, his voice devoid of emotion, like he was ordering a sandwich.
“Clara’s not working today, sorry bud. You’d probably just be miserable, anyway,” Lena interjected, shifting slightly so that Clara was half-hidden behind her. Clara had no time to protest before a grin of ‘hey, fuck you’ on his face, Ethan was shrugging, his eyes darting to Lena.
“I’ll take you, then,” he decided Olivia snorted.
“Okay.”
Twenty minutes later, Ethan was strolling out again, his gaze heavy on the back of Clara’s head.
Olivia emerged behind him, her back stiff, and Clara knew that Ethan had rejected Olivia as well.
“Hey!” Clara called after him, half-drunk, half-livid. “Why do you keep coming here if you’re just gonna act like a prick?”
Ethan turned, looking almost... confused. “I’m paying, aren’t I? Isn’t that what matters?”
Clara let out a bitter laugh, the sound echoing in the confined space. “Are you serious? We’re human beings, asshole. Apologize or don’t come back.”
Ethan studied her, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. Lips twitching slightly, as if fighting back a smile. “What happened to ‘the customer is always right’?”
“The customer is a jackass,” she snapped, her defiance fueled by cheap beer and righteous anger.
Maya coughed to cover a laugh, but her eyes sparkled with amusement.
Ethan exhaled, the sound a little less controlled this time. Then, to everyone’s shock—
“I apologize.”
Clara hesitated, caught off guard. “What?”
“I apologize,” Ethan repeated smoothly, his gaze fixed on her. “To Lena and the other one Olivia, was it? Pass it along.”
Maya, Olivia, and Clara all gaped at him, dumbfounded.
“...Okay?” Clara said dumbly, completely bewildered.
“On one condition.”
Clara groaned. “No, you’re not getting a freebie.”
Ethan rolled his eyes, his patience seemingly wearing thin. “Oh, I was going to pay.”
He glanced at Lena, a brief, almost pitying look in his eyes. “But I don’t want her.” His eyes flicked back to Clara, his gaze locking with hers, sending a jolt of electricity through her. “I want you.”
The room went silent, the air thick with unspoken tension.
Clara’s heart slammed against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat echoing in her ears. This couldn’t be happening. Not to her.
Then, before she could respond, before she could even formulate a coherent thought, Ethan’s phone buzzed. He glanced at it, scowled, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face, and turned for the door.
“I’ll be back,” he said, his voice low and resonant. Then he was gone, leaving her standing there, breathless and confused.
Maya let out a screech, breaking the silence. “What a dickwad! Who does that?”
Olivia snorted, a pragmatic glint in her eyes. “I mean... he is kinda hot.”
Clara said nothing. She just stared at the door, her pulse still uneven, her mind reeling. The encounter had left her feeling strangely vulnerable, exposed.
What the hell did Ethan want from her?
And why, despite everything, despite his arrogance, his coldness, his blatant disregard for her feelings, did she feel like this was just the beginning?
