A limousine was idling by the curb in front of the building when Elodie walked out into the night.

She stopped short of the entrance, eyes widening when the driver—garbed in white suit and matching white cap and gloves—opened the passenger door and stood ramrod straight, staring at somewhere behind her.

Elodie was so used to grabbing her own ride to wherever the client asked that they should meet, so nothing prepared her for this. Although, if she thought about it, her clients always paid for her company and nothing else so they couldn't be bothered about mundane things like getting her a mode of transportation.

Diamond Clients were different, though.

They paid an arm and leg to get that Diamond encrusted membership card that she'd glimpsed once by mistake, and from what she'd heard, it cost quiet a fortune to be one.

If she was going to make that much money in one night, then she'd make it worthwhile. Give Boss and the client no reasons to complain.

She shook off her surprise, held her head up high and began the walk to the waiting car. "Good evening," she told the driver once she was at the opened door.

He spared her a surprised glance before replying, "Good evening, ma'am."

He didn't seem keen to want to say anything beyond that, so Elodie saved the both of them the awkwardness by climbing into the car, taking care to sweep the train of her dress along with her.

Once she was seated, the driver shut the door, walked over to the driver's door, opened it and climbed in, then removed the car from park. He had the partition up, so she couldn't exactly see him to strike up a conversation, and she had to settle for studying the car interior.

The designs were done in subdued cream leathers—even the floor was done in a soft, butterscotch style—and a bar filled with alcohol of all sorts was even there. A mini fridge also sat beneath the bar. A black-and-white on the small TV screen mounted beside the partition.

The opulence made her head spin.

There were people whose everyday lifestyle involved taking a ride in this type of car.

The partition suddenly rolled down, startling her. The driver met her gaze in the rearview mirror and said, "You can help yourself to any of the drink if you wish. There are also snacks in the fridge."

"Okay. Thank—" She was cut off when he closed the partition just as suddenly as he'd opened it. "Well, then."

Even though he'd told her to help herself, Elodie decided not to. Her stomach was too tied in knots for her to be able to stomach anything. Besides, she had to keep her wits about her, because she was entering uncharted waters. Diamond clients had the leniency to do as they wished with an Angel...well, except hurting them, that is. But, if she wanted to get out of this unscathed, she had to be alert.

Soon, the car rolled to a stop, and the driver was back to open the door for her. Elodie climbed got, and thanked him to which he barely nodded, and it was when she looked up she saw where he'd brought her.

Il veleno was a popular but exclusive club for gentlemen and ladies in Upper East Blvd in Bayview. There was no way a rando could simply walk in, because you got in by invitation only.

A tall, well-built, bald head man with full-beards and mustache, clad in three piece suits guarded the entrance. In fact, if it wasn't by the lit up sign above the one-way glass door, the building looked like any brown stone house in Bayview. One could mistake it for a licit establishment.

Elodie sashayed over to the man just as she'd been taught earlier in the new room provided for her by the Boss and purred, "Hi, there."

The man's unsmiling gaze shifted to her, not straying anywhere below her chin. "Yes?"

"I'm a guest here tonight."

"Your invite?"

She reached into her purse, took out the sealed black envelope Boss had given her and handed it over to him.

He broke it open, and turned it over his palm. A grain of what looked to be gold dust rained onto his meaty palm, and he nodded. Then, he reached behind him to open the door for her, bending slightly at the waist. "Welcome, ma'am."

Elodie smirked at him, and took her time walking through the doorway. When she door fell shut behind her, she exhaled heavily, deflating.

This was the second time someone ma'amed her in one night. She'd seen many women being the recipient of such greetings, but had never gotten one herself. This person she was meeting must be so important if all this fanfare was anything to go by.

Elodie had barely made it a few steps into the reception when a blonde haired woman, also dressed smartly in pressed slacks and suit jacket, met her, beaming.

"Good evening, ma'am. Welcome to Il veleno." She stopped before Elodie, red coated-lips pulled back to reveal rows of blinding-white teeth. "He's been waiting for you."

"Oh," was all she could say in return.

He was waiting for her?

Was this how it felt being treated like a well-respected lady?

"Please come with me."

"Of course," Elodie replied, falling into step behind the woman who began to lead her deeper into the building.

Soon, they came to a large oak door that had large brass handles, and her chaperone grabbed one of them and opened the door.  Instantly, they were enveloped by the thumping blast of techno and cool air. Elodie walked into the room, her eyes devouring the sights before her. Some bodies were gyrating on the dance floor to the soft, but hardcore song emanating from the speakers. The DJ was suspended above the club in a cage and was wearing only leather pants and a mask that reminded her of Dead Pool.  Large balls of silver glitters suspended above the room caught lights from different directions—and there were many of them, the lights, all in shades of reds, blues, greens, and silvers. There seemed to be at least three floors in this place, and each floor wrapped around the dance floor, allowing whoever was above to glimpse what was going on below. A large bar with three bartenders was located on the other side of the dance floor. Plush couches dominated each and every space of the room in shadowy areas. Several of the clubbers were seated, either in deep conversations, making out, or drinking fancy looking drinks from fancy glasses. The ones that weren't seated were grinding it out on the dance floor. Majority of them were wearing masquerade masks, while the minority wore customized masks.

These must be regular patrons, Elodie summarized.

The second floor had a large door barricading its entrance so she didn't know what was behind there. They went past the third floor that had the same door, and finally arrived on the fourth floor, which surprised her, because she initially thought that there were three floors. There was another set of stairs leading to another floor, but their stop was the fourth one.

Her chaperone rapped her knuckles on the door thrice, then it swung open, and another burly man in suit was waiting for them behind the door.

"È qui per vedere il capo," her chaperone told him in low tones.

While she was only well versed in the English language, Elodie knew that this could only be Italian. They'd had customers who spoke it fluently frequent the diner at one time, but they suddenly stopped coming and no one batted an eye.

"È nel lodge con gli ospiti," the man replied, but he stepped back to let them in.

Elodie noticed the changes immediately they were inside the cool space. Unlike the first floor, this place was dark and private.

On the pavement floor, mahogany furnitures were placed like musical instruments in a simple orthogonal formation. Stone booths and podium sat in a secluded part of the room few feet away from the bar. Detailed macabre rows of skeletal metal rods hung from the centre of the nightclub like carcasses in an abattior.

The booths maintained the connection with religious architecture. On one side people could sit in their alcoves, whilst the tops served as an altar-like bar for the people behind them. Grills carved into the stone added visual interest and gave the leather-cushioned booths an industrial edge, whilst allowing occupants to spy on each other through the grating.

The roof was opened and she could see the dark, starless sky. Instead of shelves, the bar had a series of slots for bottles to rest in neck first, as if they were racks of weaponry.

It was dark and beautiful.

It was unlike anything she'd ever seen before.

"They call this place the Dark Night," her chaperone told her. "It's easy to see why it's named like that."

"It's beautiful," she whispered reverently.

Men in expensive look dark suits occupied the booths, smoking cigars that were as thick as her wrist, drinking, and talking quietly, while the ladies wore all shades of cocktail dresses. The smell of the cigar mixed in with different cologne to form a potent heady mix that made her a bit light-headed.

Although the patrons of this place wore different clothes of different cuts, smoke, drank and had different colors of hair, they all had one thing in common.

Everyone was wearing a mask.

It was like a masquerade party come to life here in Bayview. They were lace masks, dark masks and elaborately designed ones (this one was worn by the ladies).

She reached up to adjust her own silver, lace mask, which shielded half of her face from view, but left her eyes, nose and lips bare. The stylist Boss had employed had tied it behind her head in a flourish, complicated bow.

Elodie was glad that they'd thought to make her wear a mask.

This gave her anonymity and she could pretend to be another person entirely, the client none-the-wiser.

Her chaperone led her up to the booths above the alcove, which overlooked the entire floor below, and stopped at the entrance of the last one closer to the wall. This one stood apart from the rest because of the privacy it offered. The walls were done in dark marbled tones instead of the grates, and the occupants of the next booth couldn't see what was happening unless they came to the entrance.

Her chaperone bent at the waist, eyes cast down and said, "She's here, sir."

"You may leave," he said.

His voice reminded Elodie of a well-branded whiskey and Cuban cigars. It's was low and raw, but had a hard tinge to it.

Elodie watched as her chaperone walked away, and she almost ran after the woman, pleading with her not to go. But her escape plan was thwarted when he said, "Come in."

She swallowed the sudden lump that lodged into the back of her throat and did as she was commanded.

Boss had told her not to look this particular client in the eye, so she kept her gaze down as she stepped into the enclosed space, fingers clutching her silver purse in front of her.

For a few minutes, he remained quiet, although she felt his eyes roaming all over her body. She wondered what he must be seeing.

The stylist had chosen a simple silver colored dress with full train. It was an halter-neck style which was knotted behind her neck, and it parted in the middle like the red sea, it's cut stopping just shy of her navel. A slit rode so high on her right thigh that if she moved the right way, she'd be flashing her barely-there underwear.

The dress had been chosen because she had the right amount of boobs to be concealed behind the two bikini style bodice. They'd finished off the look with silver strappy-heels that had a pencil thin heel that could poke an eye out if chosen as a weapon.

As for her hair, they'd trimmed the front into a bang, and curled the body with a hot iron after brushing and applying enough products to make it shine.

Elodie wasn't a vain woman, but even she could admit that she looked hot.

"Look at me," he commanded, tone cracking like a whip.

She snapped her head up— all the lessons of seduction she'd learned earlier fleeing from her head—and found herself looking into molten, gold colored irises. They were unlike anything she'd ever seen in this world of blues, greens, browns, and blacks. They reminded her of the one time she saw a leopard on the front page of an animal magazine in the store. They also reminded her of lava. Piping hot, burning lava.

It was the eyes of a predator.

He wasn't alone, there were three other men in dark suits and equally dark masks in the booth, but she only had eyes for him.

The upper half of his face was also covered by a dark-colored mask, which stopped at the bridge of his nose, exposing the lower half of his face. Strong, hard plain jaws, a hard slant of a mouth, slightly crooked nose.

His powerful body lounged against the stone bench, encased in tailored-cut three-piece suit in midnight blue tones. He didn't wear a tie, and wore a shirt in a lighter shade of blue under his jacket. Three buttons were undone to expose his chest, which was sprinkled with hair as dark as his military-styled cut hair.

Power and finesse rolled off him in waves, reaching out and seizing her by the throat.

Elodie swallowed.

"Sei la mia proprietà per i prossimi quattro giorni, eh?" His chest rumbled with each spoken words, and the fluent manner with which he spoke the language told her he was Italian.

"I beg your pardon?" She said, when she saw that he was expecting an answer of some sort.

He sat forward then, resting his elbows on his knees, and said in clear English, "I said, 'You're my property for the next four days'." It wasn't a question this time.

She knew what being a Dark Angel entailed, but to hear him speak of her like that grated on her nerves, but she bit her tongue, reminding herself that she'd chosen this. Whatever the outcome of this four days were, she would bear it with no complaints.

"Yes," she said, dropping her hands to her side, and pushing her chest out a little. She noticed that his eyes followed the movement, and she smirked.

He was like every other men out there. Controlled by his lust and what he saw.

This should be easy, she thought.

Don't speak so soon, E2 sneered, sipping from her glass of MaiTai.

"Yes, I am."

A/N:

I will not be putting directly side translation to whatever Language is being spoken, because it would take away the essence of the book.

I've decided that I'll just put it in a glossary at the end/beginning of the book, it'll make things easier that wauu I believe.

Forgive any inaccuracies seeing as I don't speak this languages and had to make research on it.

Now that we have that out of the way, let's move to the question section:

While we've met our MC, we still don't know much about him, but from what we've known so far, what do you think?

Now that they've met, what do you think will happen?

Who is our MC, in fact?

Let me know your thoughts in the comment section. And please do not forget to vote and share❤️

Thank you for reading!