The Debt
POV: Sienna Hayes
The air outside the club was heavy with the kind of August heat that clung to your skin like a warning. Neon lights flickered overhead, buzzing faintly, casting my shadow long and thin against the cracked pavement. I tugged at the hem of my too-short dress, my nursing textbook still shoved into my bag — because even when you’re late on rent, even when the electricity bill is a gamble, even when your parents are more of a liability than a family… you still have to prepare for next week’s anatomy exam.
The bass thumped through the club’s walls like a heartbeat — too fast, too loud. I’d worked here for three months, long enough to know which customers wanted a conversation and which just wanted a body. Tonight, I didn’t have patience for either.
The door swung open, letting out a rush of stale air and perfume, and he stepped inside.
Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a black suit that looked like it could cut glass — Luca Bianchi. The kind of man who made the air shift when he entered a room. Dangerous in a way you could smell. His eyes scanned the room like he was assessing a chessboard, lingering a moment too long when they found mine.
I knew who he was — everyone in this city did. The Bianchi name didn’t just open doors, it locked them behind you. Rumor said he was engaged to some porcelain heiress from Milan, a match arranged by his late father. Business, not love. But men like him didn’t need love to ruin you.
And I knew better than to catch his attention.
Except… it was already too late.
“Miss Hayes.” His voice was smooth, deep, threaded with something that made my pulse misstep. “We need to talk.”
My stomach knotted. How does he know my name?
I glanced toward the manager’s office, where a shadow moved behind frosted glass. My boss was watching. So were two men in dark suits near the bar. The kind who didn’t dance, didn’t drink, and definitely weren’t here for the entertainment.
“I don’t think—” I began, but Luca’s hand was already at my lower back, guiding me toward the VIP corridor.
Inside, the music softened. The hallway smelled faintly of expensive cologne and something metallic.
He didn’t sit. Neither did I.
“Your parents,” he said simply, like it was already a conversation we’d been having. “They owe me money. A lot of money.”
Cold spread through me. Of course they do.
“And you,” he continued, stepping closer until the heat of his body pressed against the air between us, “are going to work off their debt.”
“I already have a job,” I said, my voice steady even though my legs felt unsteady. “And med school—”
His gaze sharpened at that, like the fact I was a student had shifted something in his head.
“This isn’t negotiable, Sienna,” he murmured. “Your parents’ choices are now your problem. And I… am your solution.”
The way he said it made my skin prickle. This wasn’t an offer. It was a verdict.
Somewhere down the hall, a door opened and shut. Luca’s eyes didn’t leave mine.
“Tomorrow. My office. Noon.” He brushed past me, and I felt the ghost of his cologne linger after he was gone.
I stayed frozen for a full minute, the sound of my heartbeat louder than the bass outside.
He knew my name. He knew about my parents. And now, he knew exactly where to find me.
