Chapter 412

Harrison, Gabrielle, and Rosalind froze mid-step.

Gabrielle's eyes sparkled with excitement. "The Velvet Lounge's bar is legendary. Rumor has it their headliner drives all the wealthy socialites wild. When he performs his signature striptease, cash rains down like confetti."

Rosalind nodded eagerly. "Exactly! Every waiter here is a sculpted Adonis with abs you could grate cheese on. Let's see if the hype is real."

Harrison shrugged. "Fine by me."

The trio squeezed into the packed venue, the air thick with anticipation. All eyes were glued to the illuminated stage.

Several toned men moved in perfect sync with the pulsing music. The crowd's chant grew louder: "Off! Off! Off!" as the performers began shedding layers.

Center stage stood the main attraction - a masked figure in a fitted black tank and pants. His expressionless mask couldn't hide the raw magnetism radiating from his sculpted frame.

Gabrielle whistled low. "That's him? The star act? Damn, he exceeds expectations! That physique belongs in a museum."

Harrison agreed. "Impressive, but Rosalind... Rosalind!"

Harrison noticed Rosalind's transfixed stare at the masked dancer.

Rosalind's breath caught. Even concealed, she'd recognize Everett Sinclair anywhere. That untamed energy, that predatory grace - unmistakable.

Finding him here, bathed in strobe lights, surrounded by screaming admirers, felt surreal. Decadent. Forbidden.

"Shirt! Take it off!" the crowd demanded.

Everett gripped his collar. With one fluid motion, he tore the fabric apart.

The sound of ripping fabric sent the room into hysterics. His exposed torso - all carved muscle and perfect definition - ignited the atmosphere.

The emcee seized the moment. "Ladies! Enjoying the view? Show your appreciation!"

Servers circulated with trays. Bills fluttered through the air like autumn leaves. Within moments, the trays overflowed.

"I'll pay to touch him!" one woman shrieked. Others joined the chorus: "Name your price!" "I'll double it!"

The bidding war escalated into near chaos.

Gabrielle smirked. "Who knew male entertainers could command such prices? A shirtless dance earns tips. A touch brings more. A full night? He'd retire wealthy."

Rosalind's response was immediate. "He'd never!"

Both friends turned, eyebrows raised. "You know him?" Gabrielle asked.

Rosalind bit her lip. The mask meant anonymity. She wouldn't betray that. "Not every performer crosses lines. Maybe he's here out of necessity. There are boundaries."

Harrison and Gabrielle exchanged puzzled glances. Since when did Rosalind defend strangers?

Rosalind tugged them forward. "Come on. Better view up front."

They pushed through the crowd. As Rosalind looked up, Everett's gaze locked onto hers through the mask.