Forbidden Cravings-Chapter 8: The Meeting

I stood outside Heaven's Feel Brothel, staring up at those big golden letters gleaming in the morning sun. The black building loomed in front of me, all sleek and fancy with its royal doors. I let out a long sighhh and pushed the door open and stepped inside.

The vibe hit me right away—soft and light, not like the wild, dark energy that took over at night. Mornings here were calm, almost lazy. The place was decked out in luxury: plush red sofas lined the walls, a shiny bar stretched along one side with bottles glinting behind it, and a small stage sat in the corner, empty now but probably packed with dancers later. The air smelled faintly of perfume and polished wood.

A couple of waitresses spotted me as I walked in. They were dressed up—short mini skirts hugging their hips, long black stockings running up their legs, lacy bras peeking out, and bunny-ear headbands bouncing as they moved.

"Good morning, Ezra!" one of them chirped, flashing a grin as she balanced a tray. I gave them a quick bow, my usual hello.

"Morning," I said back, keeping it easy. "Where's Jonathan at?"

The other one, a girl with a high ponytail, pointed a manicured finger toward the ceiling. "He's upstairs, waiting for you." She leaned in a little, her voice dropping to a tease. "You know, Ezra, you come here every day, work your ass off—don't you ever get tired? You should hang out with us sometime, have some fun."

"Yeah," the first one jumped in, giggling. "We'd take good care of you. Promise."

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I cracked a smile, shaking my head. "Someday, for sure," I said, playing along.

They laughed, waving me off as I headed for the small elevator in the back.

I stepped inside, the doors sliding shut with a soft ding. The panel glowed with five buttons—one for each floor. This place was a machine, and Jonathan ran it like a pro. He was the main manager, the guy who'd brought me in, my first friend here.

He handled the clients, set me up with gigs, kept everything smooth. I hit the button for the top floor and leaned against the wall as the elevator hummed upward, the faint vibration buzzing through my shoes.

The doors opened, and I stepped out into a room washed in dim orange light. It was vibrant but cozy—big leather chairs, a low glass table, and a couple of fake palms in the corners giving it a laid-back, beachy feel. Jonathan was sprawled on one of the chairs, rocking a loud Hawaiian shirt unbuttoned over a white tank top, his flip-flops kicked off beside him.

Across from him sat a guy in a sharp suit, looking all business.

Jonathan spotted me and waved a lazy hand, his yellow hair catching the light. "Ezra! There you are, man—come on over. We've been waiting for you." His grin was wide, like always, that chill vibe of his never fading.

I walked over to them, my boots sinking into the plush orange carpet. Jonathan grinned up at me, raising his hand for our usual high-five. I clapped my palm against his, the slap echoing.

He's been a solid friend from the jump—always there when I need him, no questions asked.

"Morning, Jonathan," I said, nodding at him.

"Good morning, my friend!" he shot back, his voice bright and loud like always. "Sit, sit—park it right here." He patted the leather chair next to him, his Hawaiian shirt flapping open as he leaned back.

I dropped into the seat, the cushion sinking under me, and glanced at the guy in the suit across the table. He was all business—crisp tie, polished shoes, not a hair out of place. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a sleek business card, sliding it across the glass table toward me.

I picked it up, scanning the embossed logo: *Reliable Company*. One of the top three in the country, a name that carried weight. Underneath, in sharp black letters, it read *Personal Assistant to Mrs. Elora*.

"She's the wife of the owner," the suit guy said, his voice smooth and clipped. He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Mrs. Elora's coming here tonight, and she specifically asked for you, Ezra."

I raised an eyebrow, letting that sink in. "Okay," I said, nodding slow. "Cool."

Jonathan jumped in, clapping his hands together. "Yeah, man, she's booked the full deal—whole room, just you and her, all night. It's already locked in." He flashed me that big grin of his, like he'd just won us both a prize.

"No problem," I said, leaning back in the chair. But then it hit me—I'd told Aeri I'd try to be home early. My stomach twisted a little, and I let out a long sigh, the air hissing through my teeth. No way that was happening now.

Jonathan caught it, his grin fading a bit. "Hey, you good?" he asked, tilting his head. "What's with the sigh?"

I forced a sweaty smile, waving it off. "Yeah, yeah, no problem," I said, keeping my voice light. "I'll do the job. All good." I turned to the assistant and gave him a quick nod.

The suit guy stood up, brushing his jacket straight. "Alright then," he said, his tone all business again. "Mrs. Elora will be here by evening, and Ezra, you'll attend her however she wants. Everything's set."

"Yes," Jonathan said, giving him a lazy salute.

"Yeah," I echoed, keeping my smile in place as the guy gave us a curt nod and headed for the door.

His shoes clicked on the floor, sharp and steady, until he disappeared into the elevator with a soft *ding*.

Jonathan leaned over, nudging me with his elbow. "Big night, huh? You're the man she's after—must've heard you're the best."

I chuckled, rubbing the back of my neck. "Guess so. Just another day, right?"

"Damn right," he said, laughing. "You need anything before she shows? Drink? Nap?"

"Nah, I'm good," I said, but my mind was already drifting back to Aeri, picturing her waiting at home, probably wondering where I'd ended up. I pushed it down, focusing on the job instead. That's what mattered now.