CHAPTER 222: UNSEEN

"We do clubs now?" Aveline muttered, her voice laced with contempt as she stepped out of the car and into the heavy, pulsing air outside the Diamond Club. Her heels clicked against the pavement, sharp and deliberate. "Like some cheap whore?"

Ben was already waiting at the entrance, his grin a little too eager, like he’d been waiting not just for her, but for the argument too.

"Sorry," he shrugged, unbothered, "they didn’t have anything decent at the hotel. You know how picky Caleb gets—it doesn’t matter where it is. Club, penthouse, alleyway. You just do your job."

Aveline narrowed her eyes, arms folding tightly across her chest. "Can I get only clients from now on? I don’t want to be on call for him like some kind of private plaything."

Ben raised a brow, amused. "Is that so?" he asked, tilting his head. "I thought you liked him. Thought you said he was good."

She hesitated.

"Yes... But—"

"But what?" he cut in, his tone still playful, but his eyes a shade colder now. "Don’t get soft on me, baby girl. Get your head in the game."

Aveline looked away, jaw tight. She didn’t answer. She didn’t need to. The low thrum of bass from inside the club seemed to echo her frustration, a beat for every time she bit back what she really wanted to say. There was no room for softness in this world—only deals and debts, desires and dominion.

With a cold sigh, she stepped past Ben and walked through the velvet-lined halls of the club, her figure drawing glances from the men who mattered, and those who didn’t. She didn’t look back.

The VIP room was just ahead—gold-trimmed and guarded like a kingdom. And across the hall, directly through the thick pane of glass, the Shephard brothers held court in their private suite.

She paused, only for a breath, before the heavy doors opened for her.

At that exact moment, Stefan stepped out of the Shephard room, headed for the washroom. He wasn’t drunk, but the night had blurred slightly around the edges. Laughter, perfume, shadows in motion. He needed air—or at least quiet.

Then he saw her.

It wasn’t certain at first—just the flicker of recognition. The way she walked. The shape of her. That subtle, almost imperceptible grace only Aveline carried.

Stefan slowed, turning his head slightly.

She hadn’t seen him yet.

He didn’t mean to stare. He didn’t mean to feel anything, either.

But there it was—uninvited, undeniable.

Something about the way she moved, the tension behind her eyes, the quiet war in her body that no one else seemed to notice.

He took a step forward. Then another. As soon as she entered, she heard the commanding voice.

"Take off your clothes and bend over," the voice commanded.

Caleb sat naked on the couch, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Aveline’s eyes first caught the envelope full of money. She picked it up, slipped it into her bag, and did as she was told.

She removed her clothes and tied the blindfold around her eyes. Then she bent over the chair, facing the door—unaware that Stefan was still standing there, frozen in place, unable to look away.

"You get turned on when you’re paid for sex?" Caleb asked.

"Yes," Aveline replied, still lying on her belly. "I get turned on when I’m being paid to have sex."

"Tonight, I want to try something different," Caleb said, his voice low and deliberate. "I’m unable to perform, so I’ll be watching you get fucked. I’ll pay double if you manage to turn me on."

Aveline didn’t get the chance to respond. She gasped sharply as she suddenly felt someone big and hard thrust into her, stretching her with every inch.

"You like that?" the deep voice behind her asked.

"Yes, I do. Very much," Aveline replied, her hand gripping his thigh for balance.

"Good. Fuck her hard, then," Caleb commanded, his voice thick with anticipation.

The man obeyed. He picked up the pace, pulling Aveline’s hands behind her back, using them as leverage. He fucked her hard and deep—sweet, brutal, relentless—stretching her like never before.

Aveline moaned uncontrollably. She liked sex, always had. But no one had ever truly satisfied her—until tonight. She has met something like no other. He was good with his rhythm and consistency, hitting her G-spot repeatedly, and that drove her crazy.

Stefan’s mind spiraled. He had always known Aveline was a mystery, but he hadn’t expected this. Not her, not like this. He felt ashamed for watching—but more than that, he felt something darker: jealousy, confusion, and a desperate pull he couldn’t define.

She liked sex. He knew that. But he’d never seen her this unrestrained, never seen anyone take her like that, and never imagined that it would hurt this much to watch.

"Tell him to stop," Caleb’s voice echoed, cool and commanding.

Stefan held his breath, hoping—needing—her to say no. Maybe this was the moment she’d pull away, the line she wouldn’t cross.

But Aveline parted her lips and whispered, breathlessly, "Please... more."

Stefan felt the floor drop out beneath him.

Caleb stood, his expression unreadable as he approached her. He guided himself toward her mouth, and Aveline welcomed him without hesitation, taking him in as she was still being pounded from behind. The sight twisted Stefan’s gut—pleasure and power, tangled in ways he didn’t understand but couldn’t ignore.

Caleb’s hand slid to her breast, fondling it possessively, as if she belonged to him. Aveline moaned around him, her body responding to both men with shameless hunger.

Stefan’s fists clenched at his sides. He wanted to look away. He needed to. But something rooted him there—anger, heartbreak, lust, all burning beneath his skin. He had never seen her like this. He had never imagined she could surrender so fully, so willingly, to something so raw.

Aveline hadn’t meant to lose herself like that.

Not again.

But somewhere between the heat of Caleb’s breath and the weight of expectation that always followed her, she let go. She let herself forget—forget the rules, the shame, the need to always feel in control. She wanted more, craved it even, and just as she was spiraling into that dangerous surrender, the man pulled back.

"Enough," Caleb said coolly, his voice barely masking amusement.

Aveline blinked beneath the silk blindfold as it slipped from her face. Her body was flushed, her lips parted. But the room had shifted. The air was heavier now, still electric, but laced with something else—something colder.

Her vision adjusted, and she saw them—two men, shirtless and hard, standing just beside her like statues waiting for a command. One leaned down, mouth eager on her chest, while Caleb’s hand pressed against her with practiced confidence.

It was all movement and heat and sound—until it wasn’t.

Until a voice, unfamiliar in this space, cut through the music and the gasps like a blade.

"Hey."

It was quiet. Calm. But it froze everything.

Caleb turned first, irritation flickering in his eyes. The two men straightened, unsure whether to move or stay.

Aveline’s head snapped toward the voice, and her breath caught when she saw him.

Stefan.

Standing there, backlit by the soft red of the hallway light, jaw clenched, his expression unreadable.

Her heart dropped.

She scrambled for something—anything—to cover herself, shame blooming like fire across her skin. The blanket was thin and too late, but she pulled it to her chest as if it could hide the truth.

Caleb smirked, his usual charm turning cruel. "You want to join us, Stefan?" he teased, his hand still resting against her thigh. "We were just getting warmed up."

Stefan didn’t smile. He walked in slowly, eyes fixed on Aveline—not judging, not leering. Just looking. Seeing.

"I’ve seen enough," he said simply, his voice low. He reached into his jacket and pulled out a few bills, crisp and cold, and placed them on the small table beside her abandoned bag. "I guess I should pay for the show."

Aveline turned away, the sting of his words cutting deeper than anything Caleb could say. She’d been seen before—used, watched, touched—but never like this.

Never by someone who mattered.

She didn’t speak. Couldn’t.

For the first time, in all the years she’d trained herself not to care, not to feel, she felt ashamed.

And Stefan?

He didn’t wait for an explanation. He just left, without another word. And the silence he left behind echoed louder than any moan or laugh that had filled that room before.