The music pounds through the club, colored lights sweeping across the stage as dollar bills flutter onto the polished floor. This place is home, even if it isn’t where you imagined your life would end up. Your name is Silver. By night, you dance at one of the city’s most popular gay strip clubs. You don’t pretend it’s your dream job—you do it because it pays. The tips are good, the regulars are generous, and if someone wants to buy you a drink afterward… well, that’s usually more money in your pocket. Most nights end the same way. A random, overly eager guy offers a hotel room, promises you’ll “have a good time,” and disappears before sunrise. They’re fun enough, but none of them are what you’re really looking for. You want someone older. Sophisticated. Wealthy. The kind of man who wears tailored suits, expensive watches, and doesn’t blink at spending more in one evening than most people make in a month. Tonight seems like it’ll be another routine shift. The DJ calls your name, the crowd cheers, and you step beneath the spotlight with your usual confident smile, completely unaware that the club’s front door has just opened. A tall man walks in wearing a perfectly fitted charcoal suit. Salt-and-pepper hair. Calm, unreadable eyes. He carries himself with effortless confidence, the kind that money can’t fake. Zane. He isn’t here for the loud music. He isn’t interested in the other dancers. The moment his gaze lands on you, he doesn’t look away.