I park my Lamborghini Aventador on the quiet back street where the message instructs me. After reading the letter about Diablo's Paraiso, I couldn't resist the curiosity surging through my veins. It might've been my naïve way of living, but I have questions about everything. I hunger for knowledge.

So, I went ahead and texted the number at the end of the letter. El Diablo sent multiply messages explaining the services available at the club. However, he kept the information lighthearted and innocently encouraged to come to see the other temptations.

Skepticism straggles into my thoughts as I lock the car. My chest tightens, taking in the desolate, dark streets with no CCTV cameras insight. It's a complete one-eighty from the bustling, noisy front entrance. Since becoming Jefe, I haven't left the house without my bodyguard, but El Diablo insisted.

To be honest, showing up could be one of the biggest mistakes in my life. It isn't ideal for someone in my status to visit a place with no security. I easily could be stepping into my own death. The words Mateo said to me earlier blink through my head to keep me from hesitating and turning back.

Not only do his words speak to me, but my gut agrees. My mama did everything in her power to keep me hidden from the evil, dirty parts of the world. But I couldn't stay blind anymore. Countless lives reside on my shoulders. If I don't start navigating myself through this dark world, I'll turn out like my brother.

Dead.

With my black mask in hand, I step towards the building, goosebumps traveling up my spine. Two lean guards with their hands folded mounts before the door. Their uniform appears to be high-end, along with their shades. A red carpet stowed underneath their feet as a black chain keeps others from entering.

"Good evening, Mr. Morterero," a man says in a thick Spanish accent.

I gulp. "Are you... El Diablo?"

He bobs his head, the ponytail on his head twitching. "I sure am."

I rub my palms on my black trousers. "Do I call you that? It's quite a peculiar name."

Diablo chuckles lightly. "Yes, you may call me that, Mr. Morterero. Every peculiar name has a story behind it and the name is already stuck." He unhooks the chain, having his arm give me a signal for entrance. "Shall we? But before that, kindly wear the mask you have with you."

I nod, tying the mask around my face. A cold sensation runs through my skin as it makes contact with the disguise. Stepping into the establishment, I met with something that resembles a hotel lobby instead of a nightclub. It's empty as opposed to the mask-cover receptionists at the front desk.

"Buenas tardes, El Diablo, and buenas tardes, Sir. Do you have your membership card with you?" The blonde-haired receptionist greets.

(Good afternoon, El Diablo, and good afternoon, Sir.)

El Diablo flashes his card. "Maia, he doesn't have a card yet. I'm showing him around."

Her smiles grow fonder. "Noted, sir. Would you like me to show him the list?"

"Por supuesto," Diablo replies, scratching his chin with a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

(Of course.)

Maia rolls from her desk to the shelf behind her, searching through flocks of paper before returning with a booklet. "Here, sir."

A small booklet bound in black leather with a pair of wings engrave on its front cover rests in her palm. Uncertainty dithers in the back of my mind as I grip the booklet.

"What's this?"

Maia taps her fingertips on her keyboard. "Our selection of Angeles, sir. You may find someone who suits your taste."

With furrowed brows, I ruffle through the pages. Each page contains pictures of people of all genders, different ages, and races. Every single person in the booklet seems too attractive to be real. In their bio, it involves their names, height, body measurements along with kinks and sexual roles?

"Angeles?" Confusion dawns on my face. "But aren't these people?"

It is a dumb question, isn't it?

Diablo snickers, covering with a cough. "Yes, those are our Angeles... or in other terms, our escorts."

Discomfort spreads in my gut like a virus. "But I thought this was a nightclub."

"It is!" Diablo exclaims, laughter escaping from his lips. "But it is so much more than that. Follow me, I'll show you." His hand leads the way up a flight of stairs.

His coded messages began to make sense. The whole point of this visit is for me to fall into temptation. Diablo's task is to expose me to all the wonders like the Angeles since so many individuals seek pleasure. People crave sex like a vampire needs blood. It is a necessity for them, but I'm not like the rest.

Before following him up the stairs, I drop the booklet back onto the counter. The individuals inside are all attractive, but no one caught my attention. Escorts gave me an uncomfortable feeling. It isn't because they fucked whoever pay them, but because of the industry itself. It feels dirty to purchase a human being who didn't want to work as one.

I didn't want to support an establishment that lacks respect for its workers. Finally, we reach the top of the stairs, bringing us to a hallway. The walk was never-ending until Diablo halts in front of a heavy metal door. He clocks in the digits on the pad beside the door, and it slowly unlocks, revealing a gust of smoke.

Immediately, I am bombarded with rackety club music and the strong bass rattles the floor. El Diablo wears a grin as he wanders to the balcony overlooking the club filled with gyrating people and multi-color lights. My elbows rest on the metal bars, darting over the individuals having fun. None of them wore masks.

"As I told you, the first floor of Diablo's Paraiso is a nightclub. Well, here it is," Diablo states, tilting away to whisper something in his microphone.

I lick my lips. "I thought this place was for members only. Are all of them members? Also, they aren't wearing masks."

He shakes his head. "No. Most of those who attend the nightclub aren't members. Although, when you search online, it says members only. Some people would like to enter the club, yet they aren't members. So they have to pay an absurdly high entrance price. The people here are like that."

The flashing lights shift to deep blue and purple shades for the slow songs.

"Getting inside Diablo's Parasio's nightclub serves as bragging rights for the rich and young. Non-members cannot access the other floors or any of our other offers. The actual members don't frequently visit this floor. After all, the nightclub merely serves as a facade for what is beneath."

A smug grin lights up Diablo's face. Proud and unapologetic. "Let's go down now so I can show you what Diablo's Paraiso really is about."

The layout of this establishment is the most perplexing thing I've ever suffered through. Up. Down. Left. Right. If it isn't for Diablo, I would be lost like a needle in a haystack. I follow the man into another hallway with a row of elevator doors.

Diablo taps his black card against the screen. "Elevators only work if you have an access card with you. It's the card Maia was asking about in the lobby. You can't get in without that. It serves as your membership card and your key to getting around the lower floors."

I fidget with the button on my blazer, waiting for Diablo's next move.

"No card and no entry. You're the only exception for tonight, Mr. Morterero." His brown irises twinkle with blasphemous as he waves the magic card.

"There are no floors above the nightclub. Everything else is underground. It is an underground establishment, after all."

My stomach clenches with discomfort as the elevator lowers to the other floor. Or at least I hope that's the reason why it hurts. If something was underground, that meant it had secrets to hide. Bile rises my throat from the knots in my gut. Forget Mateo's words. I have to get the hell out of here. I have already seen enough things to scratch this out on my checklist, but Diablo wouldn't let me leave.

I'm already in too deep.

Once the elevator dings, a low, dimly light hovers the room, keeping everything shadowy to the eye. Compare to the nightclub, this level plays classical music to drown out the member's chatter. Couches and booths are set up all over the place. There is a small stage towards the front of the room with a piano beside it. Billiard tables are a popular contender opposing the foosball ones.

By the side is a granite-built bar lined with liquor labels from five-thousand dollars to five-hundred thousand. People roam around the bar, their faces hidden behind the masks. Like the one I have. The colors vary depending on the individual. It makes the crowd look like a beautiful bouquet of flowers.

Surprisingly, this room looks innocent, like a tv show. Men and women parade around the perimeter in their expensive suits and dresses. Groups waiver wagers on the poker tables and slot machines. Others discuss personal matters on a round cocktail, metal-base bar table.

The individuals who aren't playing games are conversing with one another, their masks on.

"Welcome to the second floor, the bar," El Diablo says, pressing on the empty barstool beside him. "What's your preferred drink?"

I shrug. "Scotch is fine."

He lifts two fingers at the bartender. "Two Lagavulins please."

With sparkling neon blue lights following his every movement, the bartender pours Scotch into our tumblers. "So this bar is... just a bar?"

He blows air out of his nose, stifling a smile. "Yes, it's just a bar. Although one of the finest ones there is. Many of our clients come here to unwind, sometimes socialize, and relax after a hard day at work. Pretty innocent, eh?"

My Adam's apple bobs with mistrust. "I guess..."

Diablo smirks, throwing back his scotch. "It's innocent for those who don't need to forget. Because, unlike other bars, we serve any alcohol created on the planet. The only temptation is to drink yourself to death."

The scotch slides down my throat like DayQuil. "I have a question... Some people here are talking as if they know each other. I thought this place was all about being anonymous."

"It is." Diablo flicks his wrist with the empty tumbler in hand. "This establishment contacts powerful people; CEOs, wives of senators, the senators, other... Jefe's in your field and maybe even the President of the US." He winks. "You never know who you might encounter and you'll never know unless they want you to know."

His gaze briefly glances at the servers passing by. "Try not to expose your first name to other clients. We never know who's creeping around... It's my job to make you guys feel protected in this Paraiso. But if they want to reveal it themselves, then it's out of my control. I don't normally delve much into personal relationships, as long as it isn't detrimental to my business."

A frown mars my eyebrows. "How does one become a member?"

"It's fairly simple." Diablos uses his handkerchief to dab his chin. "Once they sign the fingerprint contract, a black membership card is shipped. As mentioned, it grants you access to everything Diablo's Paraiso has to offer. They'll have to abide by our rules and regulations, pay fees accordingly, and, of course, never utter our name to outsiders."

I blink. "Has anyone done it before?"

"Revealed the club?" Diablo snorts. "It's a rare circumstance. Clients consider this place their safe haven. It's what keeps them alive as their personal lives kill them. If they spill, this club and them will both go down. Some people can't afford to have their cards shown to the entire world. It's a win-win situation. They get to enjoy themselves, and I earn."

"Temptation is addicting, Mr. Morterero." Humor bounces in his eyes. "More than any drug in the world. Plus, they know that there are consequences if they so much dare utter a word about us."

I narrow my eyes. "And those are?"

"You're better off not knowing, Mr. Morterero." He lets out a melodic chuckle. "That's why I'm expecting you to keep all the events from tonight to yourself. Because I'm always watching."

As the night dwindles on, the more and more reasons for rejecting his proposals fill my thoughts. I might've been sucked into the cartel lifestyle, but there's a limit to my madness. Mateo urged me to get out of my comfort zone, but this was too much. I couldn't follow Eve into the den of temptation.

Diablos rises from the stool. "I have one final floor to show you, and it's my favorite. The things on that level will change your life forever."

"What kind of things?"

"You'll see." he hums.

El Diablo taps his card against the blank screen, selecting the floor below ours before the doors closed. From behind the entryway, blaring music course through the cracks along with chatters. Red carpet stairs flood my vision once the gates open. The darkest shades of red illuminate the area, giving off an ominous shadow.

Following behind Diablo like a lost child, my eyes wander to the main stage with a pole at the center. Surrounding the stage are leather couches jam with people in their masks. Both genders bathe the stripper with dollar bills, achieving a better entertaining show. The raven pixie petite woman gyrates to the hip-hop music, slowly removing more and more clothing.

I don't want to see anymore.

"That's Tania, she's a popular one," Diablo states, tilting my head in the direction of the stage once again.

The stripper, Tania, captures a masked woman and sits her in the center of the stage. The woman is giddy with excitement, and observes Tania's movement intently, enjoying her bare flesh. Tania tosses her black halter-neck bra at the crowd, causing an uproar for the item that graces her body.

A man's fist flies in the crowd, knocking the other out for a stinky bra. Couldn't be me. My eyes nearly bulge from their sockets when Tania grabs the woman, jerking her huge titties in her face.

"What the fuck?" I instantly cover my mouth, regretting the words the second they leave my mouth.

Diablo lets out a soft laugh. "That's tame for Tania. You should have seen what she did last week. Her talents are better utilized on the private room floor. If she interests you, she's an Angele too, but she isn't in the booklet you saw. She's a part of the VIP line, costs are much higher. If you want her, she opens to every sexual fantasy."

I fervently shake my head. "I-I'm not interested."

His eyebrows knot in uncertainty. "Well, I'd say you're missing out, but it's fine. Everyone has their limits. But my advice, live a little. This is a safe place to discover yourself, your kinks, thing that make you tick, genders... It's endless."

My face sours. "You mentioned other floors, like the private room one. What's that about?"

"Don't be so naïve." He lets out an amused hum. "Magic things happen."

"Will you show the other rooms to me as well?"

"No, Mr. Morterero," he replies, typing out a message on his cellphone. "You may not be ready for the other floors. You may discover them for yourself if you become a member."

I let out a sigh, my eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment. Instead of being a pimp, El Diablo should've gone for car salesmen. He is fucking persistent. I could see right through his strategy. It wouldn't work on someone like me. I don't take risks. I don't go against my morals. I live a satisfying life in fear. Even as a Jefe, it's hard to break a lifelong habit.

"I don't think I'm interested in all this, El Diablo. I won't rat you out, but it's just not my thing." My gaze shifts over to my Paul Newman Rolex Daytona on my wrist, checking the time.

Another slow, sultry song roar through the speaker system, and Tania has been replaced. My breath catches in my throat. The thumping music goes mute in my ear, the only sound pulsating through is my beating heart. Warmth rushed to my cheeks. This isn't Romeo and Juliet, but I fucking swear time stopped when she stepped out.

"Oh, I forgot. She told me she wanted to perform today. We're just in time, Mr. Morterero," he mutters.

The woman on stage is masked from head to toe in pink lingerie. It reveals enough of her olive complexion without being distasteful. Just from a second glance, she has a way with her motions, with her expression pure, sweet, and mother-fucking enchanting. It's like she's pulling me in against my own goddamn will.

She bends over; the pole dividing her ass cheeks, proving how fucking perfect they are. It didn't take long for my trousers to feel extremely uncomfortable until I physically had to rearrange myself. My blood boils, watching her untie the fluffy-like material around her hips and wrapping it around another guy's neck.

She isn't even mine.

She doesn't know my existence.

But my eyes never leave her, falling deeper into her venus trap.

She ties a blindfold over her eyes as the music switches over to a classical tune. She spins around on the pole, elegantly propelling her legs into sensual, arouse movements. The way she's doing everything with her eyes covered, never missing a beat. Heat crawl beneath my skin as she flips upside down, holding herself heavenward only using her thighs.

It's this movement.

Her thighs propel her body forward, causing her blindfold to shift just a bit. I don't dare utter another breath. Her gaze flickers to mine, burning dark and hot. Tantalizing. Inviting. She's trying to snap me in her trap before I could even realize it.

El Diablo squeezes my shoulders, modeling a smug grin. "Have you perhaps reconsidered, Mr. Morterero?"

I blink. "Who is she?"

He downs his scotch in one smooth motion. "My most prized possession."

Poor little old Asiel doesn't know what hits him... I wonder if he will regret this in time to come. The biggest moment is seconds away!! I'm just dying for you guys to see the two main leads together. It's going to be an interesting jump from the start... As we can see Asiel is already falling into the trap... would you guys too? Would you be able to resist Mika?

😜Love you guys and thank you for every comment and vote!!❤️❤️