Be my S̶̶l̶̶a̶̶v̶̶e̶ || Book-I ||

I can't lose you

Author's Note

Hey, pookies! Surprise! I’ve been super tired from studying, so I decided to take a break and write a little something. This chapter is totally unedited I just wrote whatever came to my mind. 

My exams are in two days, so I won’t be setting any targets for the next chapter. I’ll get back to writing after they’re done. 

Hope you enjoy this one! Don’t forget to vote and leave a comment💞💗👀

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The beat of the music filled the dimly lit club, where red and blue lights flickered in chaotic harmony, casting shadows across the crowd of dancers swaying to the rhythm.

The air was thick with the scent of alcohol and the electric buzz of excitement. The dance floor was alive a sea of bodies moving in perfect disarray, lost in the music's spell.

As the heavy doors swung open, a palpable shift in the atmosphere rippled through the room.

Vegas entered with his signature dark aura, his presence commanding attention even in the chaotic haze.

Dressed impeccably in a tailored black suit, his sharp features were illuminated briefly by the club's flickering lights, his cold eyes scanning the room.

Behind him followed nop and five  bodyguards, their rigid postures and piercing gazes ensuring that no one dared step too close.

Vegas moved with purpose, his steps deliberate and unhurried. The crowd instinctively parted as he made his way to a private corner booth elevated slightly above the rest of the club, offering a clear view of the entire space.

He sat down with a calm yet domineering grace, his back straight, one arm resting casually on the back of the plush leather seat, and the other lightly drumming his fingers on the polished table.

His presence radiated control and power, his expression unreadable except for the faint hint of annoyance etched on his face a man who despised the noise yet thrived in the control he held over his surroundings.

His bodyguards took their positions. Two flanked either side of the booth, standing like statues with their hands clasped in front of them, while another stationed himself near the staircase leading up to the private section. Their sharp eyes swept the crowd.

Moments later, a waiter approached cautiously, balancing a crystal glass filled with red wine. Placing it on the table with steady hands, the waiter stepped back quickly, as if afraid to linger under Vegas’s icy gaze.

Vegas lifted the glass, swirling the amber liquid. His jaw was set, his lips pressed into a thin line as he surveyed the room, Vegas sat like a king watching over his domain, untouchable and unyielding.

Vegas pov

The music pounded through the club, a relentless thrum that vibrated in my chest. The dim red lights flickered, casting distorted shadows across the dance floor.

I swirled the whiskey in my glass. Leaning back in the leather booth, my arm rested lazily across its back, my gaze scanning the room. 

"Man, finally you came." 

The voice cut through the noise, smooth but carrying an undertone I instantly disliked. I didn’t need to look up to know who it was. 

He strode over with his usual swagger, his black suit too polished, too perfect. A glass of wine dangled carelessly from his fingers, and his smirk radiated confidence.

Lifting my gaze, I met his with a cold, sharp stare.

"Win," I said flatly, setting my glass down on the table.