The club was almost empty when one of Barry's men came up to Lucy. The man was tall, quiet, and his face showed nothing. He simply said, "Boss wants to see you. Now."

Lucy's heart skipped. She wiped her sweaty hands on her short skirt and nodded. There was no use asking why. When Barry called, you went.

The man led her through a side door and up a narrow staircase that creaked under their steps. At the top, he opened a door and motioned for her to go in. Then he closed it behind her, leaving her alone with Barry.

The office was big but cold. Dark wood walls, a long desk, and large windows that looked down over the club. Barry sat behind the desk, dressed sharp in black. His hair was neat, his face hard, his eyes like ice. He didn't smile.

"Sit," he said, pointing to the chair across from him.

Lucy sat, her back straight, hands folded tight in her lap.

For a moment, Barry just watched her. His gaze felt heavy, like he could see right through her. Lucy tried not to look away, but her heart beat fast in her chest.

"You worked the floor well tonight," Barry said at last. His voice was low, smooth, but there was no warmth in it. "No fights. No drama."

"I'm just doing my job," Lucy said quietly.

Barry's lips curved into the smallest smile. It wasn't kind. It felt more like he found her answer amusing. "Good girl," he said. "You're learning fast."

Lucy didn't like the way he said it. Like she was some pet that pleased him. But she kept her face still.

"You're smart," Barry went on. "Smarter than the others. You didn't take the bait from that loud-mouthed blonde. I watched you."

Lucy blinked. "You... you were watching me?"

"I always watch what's mine," Barry said simply. His eyes locked on hers. "And you, Lucy, are mine."

Lucy's throat felt dry. She tried to speak, but no words came out at first. When she did find her voice, it shook. "I didn't ask to be yours."

Barry chuckled softly, but it wasn't a nice sound. "No, you didn't. But that's not how this world works. You walked into it the day you stepped into my club. The day you agreed to pay off your brother's debt."

"I didn't have a choice."

"There's always a choice. You chose this. And now, you belong to me. The sooner you understand that, the easier this will be for you."

Lucy clenched her fists in her lap. She hated the feeling of being trapped, of being owned. But she didn't say anything. She just stared at the desk between them.

Barry leaned forward, resting his arms on the desk. His voice dropped lower. "I didn't call you up here just to talk about your work tonight."

Lucy looked up, her heart racing faster. "Then why did you call me?"

"I wanted to see how you handle yourself. And I wanted to tell you what I expect from you." He paused, letting the words hang in the air. "You're not just another girl on the floor, Lucy. I have plans for you."

"What plans?" Lucy asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Barry's eyes darkened. "I could say you'll be my mistress. But that would be too simple. It's more than that." He stood and walked around the desk, coming to stand beside her chair. "I want you close to me. Where I can keep an eye on you. Where no one else can touch you."

Lucy shrank back a little, but Barry reached out and lifted her chin with two fingers. His touch was light, but firm. "You'll have everything you want. Clothes. Jewels. Safety. But you'll belong to me. Only me."

"I don't want that," Lucy said, her voice breaking.

Barry's smile was cold. "It's not about what you want. It's about what I want. And I want you."

Lucy's heart pounded so loud she could barely think. "Why me? You have all those other girls. Why me?"

Barry's eyes softened for just a second. Just long enough to confuse her. "Because you don't want it. That makes it more real. I've had women throw themselves at me. I'm tired of that. I want someone who doesn't fake it."

"I'm not a prize," Lucy said, pulling her chin from his grip. "I'm not some trophy for you to show off."

Barry's smile faded. His face turned serious. "No. You're not. You're more. That's why I'm offering you this place at my side. You're smart. You're strong. I see that. But don't mistake this for kindness. If you cross me, I'll break you."

Lucy stood, her legs shaking. "You can't just own people. I don't care how powerful you are."

Barry raised a brow. "Can't I?" He stepped closer, close enough that she could feel the heat of him. "Watch me."

Lucy took a step back. "What if I say no?"

Barry's grin came back, sharp and cold. "You won't. You need protection. I'm the only one who can give it to you. You think the other girls will let you breathe easy? You think my enemies won't try to use you to get to me? You're safer with me than against me."

Lucy wanted to scream. Wanted to run. But she knew he was right. As much as she hated it, she was stuck. She had no one. Nowhere to go. Barry had built walls around her, and there was no way out.

She dropped her eyes, feeling the fight drain out of her. "What happens now?"

Barry's voice softened, but the edge never left it. "Now, you go home. You rest. Tomorrow, you'll have new clothes waiting. You'll sit at my table. You'll learn how to act like the woman at my side. I'll make you into what I want."

"And if I refuse?"

Barry's smile disappeared. His voice turned hard as stone. "Then I'll remind you who owns you. And I won't be gentle about it."

Lucy bit her lip to stop it from trembling. "I hate you," she whispered.

Barry laughed, low and dark. "Good. That means you'll stay interesting." He reached out and brushed a lock of hair from her face. "Go now. I'll see you tomorrow."

Lucy lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling. The soft glow from the lamp cast long shadows on the walls. The room was quiet, but her mind wasn't. Barry's words from earlier echoed again and again.

"You're mine, Lucy."

"I want you close."

"You'll belong to me. Only me."

She pulled the blanket up to her chin, her heart heavy. The air felt thick, like it pressed down on her chest. She wanted to scream. To cry. But she just lay there, frozen. Her eyes burned from holding back tears.

'Why me? she thought. I never asked for this. I don't want this life. I don't want him.'

Her fingers clutched the blanket tighter. She let out a shaky breath and shut her eyes. Forget it, she told herself. Just sleep. You'll figure it out tomorrow. Slowly, the weight of the day pulled her under, and sleep took her into its quiet embrace.

***

The next evening, Lucy stood by the door, waiting. The same guard from the night before showed up. He gave a short nod, said nothing, and led her out. The ride to the club was silent, the hum of the car the only sound between them.

When they reached Barry's Den, the noise hit her the moment she stepped out. Music thumped through the walls. The smell of smoke, alcohol, and sweat filled the air. Lights flashed red and blue, casting strange shapes on the pavement.

Lucy walked in, her head low. She moved through the crowd like a ghost, hoping no one would notice her. But, as always, eyes followed her. Hungry, jealous, curious.

She tried to ignore them.

Later, during a break, she found herself leaning against the wall near the dressing room. Vanessa came up beside her, wiping sweat from her brow.

"You okay?" Vanessa asked, her voice soft.

Lucy let out a sigh. "I don't fit here, Vanessa. I don't belong in this place."

Vanessa leaned on the wall next to her. "I felt the same at first. You just have to be patient."

Lucy turned to her. "Patient for what? For Barry to break me down? For the girls to stop hating me?"

"For things to make sense," Vanessa said gently. "For you to learn how to survive here. That's all any of us can do."

Lucy frowned but didn't argue. She knew Vanessa meant well. She crossed her arms and stared at the floor. "I don't want to survive. I want to leave."

Vanessa gave a small, sad smile. "We all do. But wanting and getting are two different things."

The rest of the night passed in a blur of music, lights, and faces. Lucy danced. She served drinks. She forced smiles when men stared too long. Her feet hurt. Her back ached. But she kept going.

When it was finally over, Barry's man was waiting to take her back to the mansion. The ride was as quiet as before. The city lights flickered past the window like stars falling from the sky.

***

Lucy sighed with relief when she got to her room. She kicked off her shoes and rubbed her sore feet. Her body felt heavy, her head foggy with exhaustion.

A soft knock on the door made her freeze. Before she could answer, a maid stepped in, carrying a large white box tied with a black ribbon.

"This is for you, miss," the maid said, placing the box on the bed. "From Master."

Lucy blinked. "From him? What is it?"

"A dress," the maid said. "He wants you to wear it. You're to join him for a ball tonight."

"A ball?" Lucy echoed, her heart sinking. "Tonight?"

The maid nodded. "Yes, miss. He said to be ready in one hour."

Lucy stared at the box as the maid left the room, closing the door softly behind her. She felt her chest tighten. The room suddenly felt too small. The air too thick.

She walked to the bed and slowly untied the ribbon. Her hands shook a little. Lifting the lid, she pushed the tissue paper aside and gasped softly.

The dress inside was beautiful. Soft silver silk, smooth as water, shimmered under the light. It had thin straps and a low back. Tiny beads sparkled along the hem like stars. It was the kind of dress that made a girl feel like a queen. Or a prize.

Lucy touched the fabric. It felt cool against her skin. She imagined herself wearing it, standing beside Barry, the center of attention. The thought made her stomach twist.

'This isn't me', she thought. 'I'm not a doll he can dress up and show off.'

But what choice did she have?

She sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the dress. The room was quiet except for the soft tick of the clock on the wall. Each second felt loud in the stillness.

***

An hour later, Lucy stood in front of the mirror. The dress fit like it was made for her. The silver silk hugged her curves. The beads caught the light when she moved. Her hair fell in soft waves over her shoulders. The maid had helped her with light makeup, just enough to bring out the blue in her eyes.

She barely recognized herself.

A knock came at the door. The same guard waited outside. "The car is ready," he said.

Lucy grabbed a small silver clutch that matched the dress. She took one last look at herself in the mirror and let out a slow breath. You can do this, she told herself. Just get through tonight.

She followed the guard out. The night air was cool against her skin. The car gleamed under the porch lights. Barry stood beside it, dressed sharp in a black suit, his dark hair smooth, his eyes on her.

For a moment, he said nothing. His gaze moved over her slowly, from head to toe. His face was calm, but his eyes burned.

He opened the car door for her. "Come. We're late."

She slid into the seat, the silk of her dress rustling softly. Barry got in beside her, and the car pulled away.

For a while, they rode in silence. The city lights flickered past the windows, bright against the dark sky. Lucy stared out, trying to calm the storm inside her.

Barry watched her. "You're quiet."

Lucy glanced at him. "I don't know what to say."

He smirked. "That's new. You always have something to say."

She looked down at her hands. "I'm just tired."

Barry reached out and took her hand in his. His grip was firm, warm. "Don't be scared. Tonight, you're with me. No one will dare touch you."

Lucy didn't answer. She stared at his hand holding hers and felt the weight of what that meant.

'No one will touch me' She thought. 'Because I already belong to him.'

The car moved smoothly through the night, city lights casting flashes of gold and silver across Lucy's face. She stared out the window, her heart pounding and mind racing. The soft rustle of her silver dress filled the quiet space inside the car. Barry sat beside her, his hand resting lightly on hers, his thumb brushing her knuckles now and then.

She wished he wouldn't touch her.

From the corner of her eye, she could see his sharp black suit, the clean lines of his jacket, the cold strength in his jaw. He looked like a king on his way to claim his crown.

"You look worried." Barry said after a while, his voice low but clear.

Lucy didn't turn to him. "I'm not worried. I'm thinking." She muttered.

"About what?" His thumb kept stroking her hand. Slow and steady.

"About why I'm here. About what this night is for." Her voice was tight, as she chose her words carefully.

Barry smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "You're here because I want you here. That's reason enough." He stated.

Lucy bit her lip. "But what for? To be seen at your side? Like some trophy?" She asked, sadness evident in her voice.

His grip on her hand tightened just a little. "Don't say that."

"It's what it feels like." She stated.

Barry let go of her hand and leaned back, his face unreadable. "You think too much. Just enjoy the night."

Lucy crossed her arms over her chest and stared out at the street again. Ahead of them, another black car carried Barry's guards. She could see its red brake lights glowing in the dark.

'Easy for him to say' She thought bitterly. 'He's the one in control.'

***

When they reached the grand hall where the ball was held, Lucy stepped out of the car, and the cool night air hit her bare shoulders. The building in front of them was huge, with tall pillars and lights that made it glow like gold. The sound of soft music and voices floated out through the open doors.

Barry came around the car and offered his arm. Lucy hesitated but took it. His grip was firm, like he wasn't going to let her go. Together, they walked up the steps, their steps in time, his head held high and hers low.

Inside, the hall was even grander. Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, filling the room with soft light. The floor was marble, smooth and shining. People in gowns and suits moved like shadows, voices mixing with the soft music of the string band.

Lucy felt small, out of place. She could feel the weight of every glance that fell on her as she entered with Barry. Some people stared openly. Others whispered behind gloved hands. She kept her chin up, but inside, her stomach twisted.

Barry guided her through the room, stopping now and then to greet people. His voice was smooth and almost polite. His charm, cold but powerful. Lucy stood beside him, smiling when she had to, but saying little. The air smelled of perfume, champagne, and polished wood.

Then she heard a woman's voice.

"So, where's your fiancée tonight, Barry?"

Lucy blinked. Fiancée?

Barry's face didn't change. He gave a small smile. "Not here tonight."

The woman laughed lightly. "A shame. I was hoping to meet her. You hide her so well."

Barry said nothing more, just moved on, guiding Lucy toward the long table where glasses of wine waited.

Lucy felt like the floor had dropped from under her. She grabbed a glass with shaking fingers and turned to him.

"You're engaged?" she asked, voice low but hard.

Barry didn't look at her right away. He took a sip of his drink, eyes on the crowd. "Does it matter?"

"Does it..." She stopped herself, breathing hard. "You tell me I belong to you. You say I'm yours. But you're going to marry someone else?" She asked.

Barry met her eyes at last. His gaze was cool, steady. "That's business."

Lucy stared at him in shock. "Business? You call that business? What am I then? A side game?"

He set his glass down and took a step closer, so close she could feel the heat of him. "You're mine, Lucy. That hasn't changed. That won't change. What I do for business is something else."

Lucy's heart raced with anger. Her hands shook, and she clenched them into fists. "You can't have it both ways. You can't claim me and promise yourself to someone else."

"I can do whatever I want," Barry said, his voice quiet but firm. "And don't raise your voice here. Not in front of these people."

Lucy bit down hard on her lip, trying to hold back the flood of words she wanted to throw at him. She hated the way he made her feel, trapped, small, powerless.

Barry leaned in close, his mouth near her ear. "Smile, Lucy. Everyone's watching."

And she did. A small, forced smile, just enough to hide the storm inside her.

But as she stood there, pretending, she felt a chill run down her spine. The fine hairs on her neck rose. She felt eyes on her, not the polite glances of the guests, but something else. Something sharp, dark and dangerous.

She looked around, her heart thudding. The faces blurred together, smiling, laughing, drinking. But the feeling stayed. Like a weight on her chest.

Barry noticed her tense. "What is it?"

"Someone's watching me," she said quietly, her eyes scanning the room.

He frowned, his eyes sharp now. "Where?"

"I don't know. I can't see who. But I feel it."

Barry straightened, his hand resting lightly on her back. He guided her toward a quieter corner of the hall. His guards, standing near the walls, seemed to stiffen, their eyes more alert.

"Stay close to me." Barry said, voice low.

Lucy nodded, but her heart still raced. The music, the lights, the voices, they all seemed far away now. All she could focus on was that cold, crawling feeling at the back of her neck.

Barry spoke with a few men who came over to greet him, but his eyes kept moving around, watching the room, looking for the source of the danger Lucy felt.

Lucy tried to calm herself. She took a deep breath, the scent of roses and wine filling her nose. But it didn't help. The feeling wouldn't leave.

She leaned towards Barry, her voice soft but urgent. "I want to leave."

"We can't leave yet," he said, glancing down at her. "It would look strange."

"I don't care," Lucy whispered. "Please."

Barry studied her face, saw the fear in her eyes. His jaw tightened. "Ten more minutes," he said. "Then we leave."