See you naked in the dim light

**Ivery Clark POV** 

The dim lighting of Alrigo’s cabin did nothing to mask the cold intensity in his gaze.

Before I could find the strength to beg, Alrigo grabbed my arm, his fingers digging into my skin as he dragged me and threw the door open with a force that silenced the chatter of his staff outside. 

They all turned, their expressions flickering between fear and intrigue. Alrigo pulled me forward, and I stumbled into the hallway like some criminal dragged to her execution.

A staff member, a young man with hesitant eyes, stepped closer, his expression carefully neutral. “Where should we post her, sir? It would be great if VIP—”

“The VIP rooms?” Alrigo snapped, his voice echoing through the hallway, sharp and dangerous.

“You think she belongs in the VIP section? She doesn’t deserve the privilege of standing anywhere near the VIPs. Look at her.” He gestured toward me with disdain, his gaze raking over me like I was something filthy. 

“You think they’d tip a girl who looks like she’s on her last shred of dignity? She wouldn’t last a minute up there. Don’t waste good rooms on trash.”

Heat rose to my cheeks, burning with shame. His words echoing in my mind, searing themselves into my soul.

“Put her to work,” he continued, his voice colder than ever. “Let her clean tables, carry drinks, whatever. She's just a pretty face and nothing else. If she’s going to survive under my rule, she’ll do it from the dirt where she belongs.”

I barely registered the nods and murmured acknowledgments as he pushed me forward, releasing me with a force that nearly sent me sprawling.

“Let's get going.” The staff signaled me and I followed him with teary eyes.

The man stopped abruptly, nearly causing me to bump into him. He turned, crossing his arms and looking me up and down like I was a child incapable of understanding.

“I have no idea what the boss was thinking appointing *you* to this,” he started, his tone dripping with condescension. “Do you even know how to hold a tray properly? 

“Here.” He grabbed a tray off the counter, loaded with a precarious tower of drinks in crystalline glasses. When he shoved it into my trembling hands, I nearly dropped it, gasping at its unexpected weight.

“For God’s sake, hold it steady,” he snapped.

“I—It’s heavier than I thought,” I admitted quietly, biting down on my lower lip as I adjusted my grip.

“No strength, no skills,” he muttered, shaking his head. “You better get it together, or the boss will *definitely* have a word with you. And trust me—you don’t want that.” He leaned in, his tone dripping with mockery.

The tray in my hands felt heavier than it should, the glasses clinking softly as my unsteady fingers tried to keep them balanced. 

“One last thing,” he called, stopping me just before I pushed the doors open. “Don’t forget to smile. Makes the humiliation look prettier.”

The grip on the tray tightened and I walked ahead. 

My breaths came in shallow gasps, the air in the room thick and suffocating. The laughter, the smoke curling into the air, the greedy stares that followed my every move—it all felt disturbingly familiar.

It was the auction all over again.

I could almost hear the shouts, the cruel jeers of the crowd that day. The dim lighting, the heavy, perfumed air—everything here was a haunting mirror of that wretched night.

The first table of men was just a few steps away, but each step felt like walking into an execution.

*You’re fine*, I told myself, though my chest tightened with every second. *You can do this. It’s just a drink. Just one drink.*

But when I stopped at the first table and saw their eyes—sharp, hungry, crawling over me like I was on display—I froze.

“Look there.” One of the men whispered. 

My stomach twisted as I forced myself forward, sweat beading on my forehead.

“ Finally, the boss has some taste. Look at those tits, bouncing like fucking jelly. I'd love to see 'em bounce in my hands.” One of the men drawled as I placed the tray on their table with shaky hands. 

His companions laughed, and I felt my throat tighten.

“Over here, sweetheart,” another chimed in, patting his lap. “How about serving me instead? Skip the drink, though—I want something a little stronger.”

“My job is only to serve drinks sir.” I averted my gaze, mumbling a polite refusal. I took a small step back, only for one of them to grab the edge of the tray still in my hands, keeping me rooted in place.

“Where do you think you are going? Don't you want to make some extra tips? How about you take that dress off and let us see what you look like naked in the dim light of this bar.”

The man closest to me leaned forward, reaching out a hand toward my thigh, and my panic exploded. Without thinking, I yanked back the tray.

The glasses filled with beer spilled over him.

“You clumsy little—!” one of the men snarled, jumping to his feet. His eyes burned with fury, and I instinctively shrank back, my hands raised in defense.

“I—I’m so sorry,” I stammered, my voice trembling.

The man took a menacing step closer, his hand balling into a fist. But another voice stopped him, smooth and venomous. “Wait a minute,” one of his companions said, his tone suddenly light and dangerous. 

“We’ll forgive the little mess—” his eyes slid down my figure, lingering far too long “—if she joins us for... a more personal apology.”

Laughter erupted again, and bile rose in my throat.

“N-no,” I whispered, backing up another step. “I—I can’t.”

“Why can't you? You have to take the responsibility? Or should we call the boss?” 

Tears stung the corners of my eyes as I shook my head vehemently. “No. Please, no. I’ll... I’ll clean it up. Just, please—”

“Please what? Don’t look so scared, baby. You have a nice face and nice tits. How about you come closer? Let all have a proper look at you.”

“No. I'm not here for this, sir.” 

“She’s being difficult,” the man remarked, his words hanging in the air like a noose. “Is this how you want to play it?”

“I—”

“Is there a problem here?” A deep voice boomed behind me and I felt his presence. Like a storm brewing just behind me.

I turned, my breath hitching as I met his gaze. His eyes glinted with something cold, something predatory. Panic coursed through me. 

The man at the table, the one who had teased me about spilling the drink, stiffened but forced a smile.

“Mr. King,” one of them began nervously, trying to regain some composure. “This girl—she’s been nothing but a nuisance. First, she spills our drinks—”

“She made a mess of everything!” another man interjected. 

“And when we offered her a chance to make it right,” the first man continued with false calm, “she refused.”

“Is that so?” Alrigo finally asked, his tone deceptively mild.

“Yes,” one of the men pressed, “We were teaching her lessons. You don't worry King, we will deal with her. You can resume your other works.” 

Alrigo tilted his head slightly, the corners of his mouth lifting in a smile that was more chilling than reassuring. Slowly, he walked into their midst, commanding the room with each measured step.

“And what,” he said, his voice dark velvet, “makes you think you have the right to take over the situation? Do you dictate the rules here? Is this your establishment?”

“N-No, of course not. I—”

“Good,” Alrigo interrupted, his voice sharp as a whip. “I'll take it from here.” 

“But—”

“I said, I'll take it from here.” Alrigo said, his expression as sharp as a dagger’s edge. “Dominic, give them a special treatment. Please allow us to cover the expenses.”

The men shrank visibly under the threat laced in every word.

And in a second, Alrigo’s fingers wrapped around my upper arm.

"Come with me," he said flatly, dragging me through the murmurs and curious stares of the other patrons.

I stumbled once, nearly tripping over my own feet, but he didn’t slow. Before I could catch my breath as we entered his cabin, he pushed me back against the wall, his body close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.

I trembled uncontrollably, my chest heaving with shallow breaths as panic clawed at my throat.

“Stop shaking,” Alrigo growled, his voice low and dangerous, but there was a flicker of something else in his tone.

“I—I can’t,” I whispered, my voice barely audible as tears flowed down.

His eyes narrowed, and his jaw tightened. “I said, stop.”

I wanted to, God, I wanted to obey and make the trembling cease, but my body refused. A sob clawed its way up my throat, breaking free before I could swallow it down.

Alrigo’s gaze faltered, just for a moment, the predatory sharpness softening as though he’d caught sight of something unexpected. His grip on my wrist loosened, but he didn’t let go.

“Ivery,” he said, his voice quieter now, though no less commanding. “Look at me.”

I couldn’t. The tears blurred my vision, and my chest felt like it would cave in from the pressure.

“*Look at me*,” he repeated, this time with a touch of impatience.