FIFTY MILLION NIGHTS
PART 5
The black dress felt stiff and wrong. Like a uniform for a prisoner. Olivia stood behind the long, shiny bar at Malik’s nightclub, *Eclipse*. Loud music pounded through the floor. Bright lights flashed. People danced and laughed. It was too loud, too bright, too much.
Two big men in dark suits stood right behind her. Kola and Dapo. Malik’s men. Her shadows. They watched everyone, especially men who came near her. Always watching. Never letting her forget she belonged to Malik now.
Olivia moved like a robot. Ice in the shaker. Pour vodka. Pour cranberry. Shake. Pour into a glass. "Fifty thousand Naira." Again and again. She kept her eyes down. Don’t look at the men staring. Don’t see their hungry eyes.
"Hey, new girl." A man leaned on the bar. His shirt was too open. His smile was nasty. "Why’s a pretty thing like you stuck pouring drinks? Need some fun?" His breath smelled sour.
Olivia wiped the counter hard. "What drink do you want, sir?" Her voice was flat.
He leaned closer. "What’s your special, sweetness?"
Before Olivia could speak, Kola moved. He didn’t say a word. He just stood huge and silent right behind the man. His face was blank. But he felt dangerous. Like a wall of cold stone.
The man’s smile vanished. He looked scared. "Uh... just a beer. Cold." He threw money down and hurried away.
Olivia breathed out shakily. She got his beer. Kola went back to his spot. This wasn’t protection. It was a cage. A warning. She is Malik’s. Stay away.
Hours passed. Olivia’s feet hurt in the tight shoes. Her head throbbed from the noise. She felt tired and empty. Just keep pouring. Don’t think.
Then, she felt it. The crowd near the back got quiet. People moved aside. Heads turned.
Malik was here.
He walked through the club like he owned it. Because he did. All black clothes. Sharp. Cold. His eyes scanned the room, then locked onto hers across the crowd.
Olivia froze, a bottle in her hand. His stare felt heavy. Possessive. He saw the uniform. The shadows. Her tired face. His jaw muscle tightened. He walked straight towards the bar.
Her heart hammered. *Don’t look. Just work.* She poured a drink, hands shaking.
He leaned on the bar right in front of her. His arms rested on the shiny chrome. "Busy night?" His voice was low, cutting through the noise.
"Yes, sir," she mumbled, staring at the bottles behind him.
"Learning fast?" he asked, too casually. His eyes flicked to where the nasty man had been. "Any... problems?"
"No, sir. No problems." She forced herself to meet his dark eyes. "Your men are... good at their job."
Something dangerous sparked in his look. Anger? Something else? "Remember that," he said, his voice like silk over ice. "Remember who they answer to. Who you answer to."
He was too close. She smelled his sandalwood smell, mixed with cold power. She saw the pale scar near his eye. She remembered him staring at her lips in the penthouse. It made her stomach flip.
Just then, a young guy stumbled up to the bar, right next to Malik. Drunk. Grinning. "Hey, beautiful!" he yelled at Olivia, wobbling. "Need drinks for my friends! The good stuff!" He winked.
Olivia opened her mouth. Kola and Dapo shifted. But Malik moved faster.
He didn’t shout. He didn’t push. He just turned his head. Slowly. He looked at the young man. His eyes were like frozen fire. Pure, terrifying hate.
The grin died on the drunk guy’s face. He turned white. "S-sorry, boss! Didn’t see you! My mistake!" He scrambled away, tripping over his feet.
Malik turned back to Olivia. His eyes were furious. Now aimed only at her. Like *she* caused it. Like she was the trouble.
"See?" he hissed, leaning so close she felt his breath. The music seemed to fade. "Distractions. Flies buzzing around honey." His gaze slid down to her mouth again. "Maybe the uniform is wrong. Maybe you need to be... invisible."
The unfairness burned. He blamed *her*? After everything? The tiredness, the fear, the shame – it exploded into hot anger. The fire she thought was dead roared back.
"Invisible?" Olivia snapped, her careful calm gone. She glared right back. "How? Should I wear a sack? Paint myself black? Or is the problem just... me being here, Mr. Adebayo?"
Silence. Heavy silence. Right in the noisy club. Kola and Dapo went statue-still. People nearby backed away.
Malik’s face turned hard stone. But underneath, rage boiled. His jaw muscle jumped. "You forget your place," he growled. The sound vibrated through the bar. "You forget everything."
"My place?" Olivia’s voice shook with anger and tears. "My place is behind this bar! Serving people who see me as furniture! Watched by your shadows! I’m property! What more do you want? Should I crawl? Thank you for this... prison?"
"Careful," he warned, deadly quiet. He stood up straight, towering over her. "You’re playing with fire."
"I signed your paper!" she shouted, ignoring the fear screaming inside. "I’m paying for a debt that isn’t mine! What’s left to take? My pride? My mind? Take it! You and my coward brother already broke it!"
His hand shot out. Not to hit her.
SLAM!
His palm smashed down on the shiny bar top. A deafening BANG! Glasses jumped. Liquid splashed. Everyone nearby jumped.
"ENOUGH!" His roar wasn’t loud, but it silenced everything. The music skipped. People froze.
Malik leaned in, his face inches from hers. His eyes burned – fury, confusion, something wild. "Think this is funny?" he hissed, hot breath on her cheek. "Your ****** mouth amuses you? You’re just money to me, Olivia. A way to get paid. Nothing more. Your fighting isn’t brave. It’s ******. Dangerous ******."
He stood up straight, breathing hard. The icy mask was back, but cracks showed. Fury still burned in his eyes. "Finish your work," he ordered, voice like cracking ice. "Remember this next time you feel like... making sparks."
He turned sharply. "Kola. Dapo. Take her straight home after closing. No stops. No talking." He didn’t wait. He walked away fast. The crowd parted like scared fish. Silence followed him.
Olivia stood frozen, shaking. His anger felt hot on her skin. The noise rushed back, loud and jarring. The spot on the bar where he slammed felt warm.
He called her a spark. A dangerous spark.
She picked up a cloth, wiping spilled drink, hands trembling. A scary, exciting thought cut through the fear and tiredness.
Maybe I am.
Later, back in Malik’s huge, quiet penthouse, the locked door clicked shut behind her. Kola and Dapo were gone.
Olivia kicked off the awful shoes. Her feet sighed in relief. She pulled off the stiff black uniform. It dropped to the cold floor. Standing in her slip, the city lights spread out below, the night crashed over her. The staring men. Malik’s scary jealousy. The fight. The spark.
He was angry. He was dangerous. He owned her.
But for the first time since Emeka left her, Olivia didn’t feel broken. She felt... awake. Scared? Yes. Tired? Totally. But awake. And Malik Adebayo, the cold Syndicate boss, had looked at her with fire. Not just ice.
She walked to the huge window. She put her hands on the cold, thick glass. The woman looking back wasn’t just a prisoner, or property, or something broken. She was the woman who made the lion roar.
The game changed. The spark was lit. Now, she had to survive the fire she started.
TO BE CONTINUED...
FIFTY MILLION NIGHTS
PART 5
The black dress felt stiff and wrong. Like a uniform for a prisoner. Olivia stood behind the long, shiny bar at Malik’s nightclub, *Eclipse*. Loud music pounded through the floor. Bright lights flashed. People danced and laughed. It was too loud, too bright, too much.
Two big men in dark suits stood right behind her. Kola and Dapo. Malik’s men. Her shadows. They watched everyone, especially men who came near her. Always watching. Never letting her forget she belonged to Malik now.
Olivia moved like a robot. Ice in the shaker. Pour vodka. Pour cranberry. Shake. Pour into a glass. "Fifty thousand Naira." Again and again. She kept her eyes down. Don’t look at the men staring. Don’t see their hungry eyes.
"Hey, new girl." A man leaned on the bar. His shirt was too open. His smile was nasty. "Why’s a pretty thing like you stuck pouring drinks? Need some fun?" His breath smelled sour.
Olivia wiped the counter hard. "What drink do you want, sir?" Her voice was flat.
He leaned closer. "What’s your special, sweetness?"
Before Olivia could speak, Kola moved. He didn’t say a word. He just stood huge and silent right behind the man. His face was blank. But he felt dangerous. Like a wall of cold stone.
The man’s smile vanished. He looked scared. "Uh... just a beer. Cold." He threw money down and hurried away.
Olivia breathed out shakily. She got his beer. Kola went back to his spot. This wasn’t protection. It was a cage. A warning. She is Malik’s. Stay away.
Hours passed. Olivia’s feet hurt in the tight shoes. Her head throbbed from the noise. She felt tired and empty. Just keep pouring. Don’t think.
Then, she felt it. The crowd near the back got quiet. People moved aside. Heads turned.
Malik was here.
He walked through the club like he owned it. Because he did. All black clothes. Sharp. Cold. His eyes scanned the room, then locked onto hers across the crowd.
Olivia froze, a bottle in her hand. His stare felt heavy. Possessive. He saw the uniform. The shadows. Her tired face. His jaw muscle tightened. He walked straight towards the bar.
Her heart hammered. *Don’t look. Just work.* She poured a drink, hands shaking.
He leaned on the bar right in front of her. His arms rested on the shiny chrome. "Busy night?" His voice was low, cutting through the noise.
"Yes, sir," she mumbled, staring at the bottles behind him.
"Learning fast?" he asked, too casually. His eyes flicked to where the nasty man had been. "Any... problems?"
"No, sir. No problems." She forced herself to meet his dark eyes. "Your men are... good at their job."
Something dangerous sparked in his look. Anger? Something else? "Remember that," he said, his voice like silk over ice. "Remember who they answer to. Who you answer to."
He was too close. She smelled his sandalwood smell, mixed with cold power. She saw the pale scar near his eye. She remembered him staring at her lips in the penthouse. It made her stomach flip.
Just then, a young guy stumbled up to the bar, right next to Malik. Drunk. Grinning. "Hey, beautiful!" he yelled at Olivia, wobbling. "Need drinks for my friends! The good stuff!" He winked.
Olivia opened her mouth. Kola and Dapo shifted. But Malik moved faster.
He didn’t shout. He didn’t push. He just turned his head. Slowly. He looked at the young man. His eyes were like frozen fire. Pure, terrifying hate.
The grin died on the drunk guy’s face. He turned white. "S-sorry, boss! Didn’t see you! My mistake!" He scrambled away, tripping over his feet.
Malik turned back to Olivia. His eyes were furious. Now aimed only at her. Like *she* caused it. Like she was the trouble.
"See?" he hissed, leaning so close she felt his breath. The music seemed to fade. "Distractions. Flies buzzing around honey." His gaze slid down to her mouth again. "Maybe the uniform is wrong. Maybe you need to be... invisible."
The unfairness burned. He blamed *her*? After everything? The tiredness, the fear, the shame – it exploded into hot anger. The fire she thought was dead roared back.
"Invisible?" Olivia snapped, her careful calm gone. She glared right back. "How? Should I wear a sack? Paint myself black? Or is the problem just... me being here, Mr. Adebayo?"
Silence. Heavy silence. Right in the noisy club. Kola and Dapo went statue-still. People nearby backed away.
Malik’s face turned hard stone. But underneath, rage boiled. His jaw muscle jumped. "You forget your place," he growled. The sound vibrated through the bar. "You forget everything."
"My place?" Olivia’s voice shook with anger and tears. "My place is behind this bar! Serving people who see me as furniture! Watched by your shadows! I’m property! What more do you want? Should I crawl? Thank you for this... prison?"
"Careful," he warned, deadly quiet. He stood up straight, towering over her. "You’re playing with fire."
"I signed your paper!" she shouted, ignoring the fear screaming inside. "I’m paying for a debt that isn’t mine! What’s left to take? My pride? My mind? Take it! You and my coward brother already broke it!"
His hand shot out. Not to hit her.
SLAM!
His palm smashed down on the shiny bar top. A deafening BANG! Glasses jumped. Liquid splashed. Everyone nearby jumped.
"ENOUGH!" His roar wasn’t loud, but it silenced everything. The music skipped. People froze.
Malik leaned in, his face inches from hers. His eyes burned – fury, confusion, something wild. "Think this is funny?" he hissed, hot breath on her cheek. "Your stupid mouth amuses you? You’re just money to me, Olivia. A way to get paid. Nothing more. Your fighting isn’t brave. It’s stupid. Dangerous stupid."
He stood up straight, breathing hard. The icy mask was back, but cracks showed. Fury still burned in his eyes. "Finish your work," he ordered, voice like cracking ice. "Remember this next time you feel like... making sparks."
He turned sharply. "Kola. Dapo. Take her straight home after closing. No stops. No talking." He didn’t wait. He walked away fast. The crowd parted like scared fish. Silence followed him.
Olivia stood frozen, shaking. His anger felt hot on her skin. The noise rushed back, loud and jarring. The spot on the bar where he slammed felt warm.
He called her a spark. A dangerous spark.
She picked up a cloth, wiping spilled drink, hands trembling. A scary, exciting thought cut through the fear and tiredness.
Maybe I am.
Later, back in Malik’s huge, quiet penthouse, the locked door clicked shut behind her. Kola and Dapo were gone.
Olivia kicked off the awful shoes. Her feet sighed in relief. She pulled off the stiff black uniform. It dropped to the cold floor. Standing in her slip, the city lights spread out below, the night crashed over her. The staring men. Malik’s scary jealousy. The fight. The spark.
He was angry. He was dangerous. He owned her.
But for the first time since Emeka left her, Olivia didn’t feel broken. She felt... awake. Scared? Yes. Tired? Totally. But awake. And Malik Adebayo, the cold Syndicate boss, had looked at her with fire. Not just ice.
She walked to the huge window. She put her hands on the cold, thick glass. The woman looking back wasn’t just a prisoner, or property, or something broken. She was the woman who made the lion roar.
The game changed. The spark was lit. Now, she had to survive the fire she started.
TO BE CONTINUED...
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