CRAVED BY THE ALIEN BILLIONAIRE

Ava's POV

"Ava!" Marco, the floor manager, snapped his fingers at me.

"VIP Room Seven. Mr. Chen and his party. They've been waiting."

I nodded, checking my reflection in the mirrored wall. My dark hair was still neat in its low ponytail, my makeup hadn't smudged, and the black cocktail dress. It was the standard uniform for servers, and it still looked decent. It was good enough.

My feet ached in these ridiculous heels, and I'd been on shift for six hours already with two more to go. But the money was good, better than anything else I could get with just a high school diploma and a dying mother at home.

VIP Room Seven was at the end of the hallway, and I knocked twice, then pushed open the heavy door.

The scene inside made me freeze.

Mr. Chen was a regular I'd served before. He was sat sprawled on the leather couch, his shirt unbuttoned, his head thrown back and his cock slammed into a woman's pussy.

A blonde woman knelt between his legs, her head moving as she rode him on and on. Another woman was on a redhead in lingerie, her boobs were out of her bra and she was pressed against his side, his mouth sucking hard on one nipple and the other hands pressed to her open clit.

Heat flooded my face.

"Ah, perfect timing," Mr. Chen said, his voice thick with pleasure. He didn't even look at me, too focused on what was happening to his body.

"Put it on the table, sweetheart."

I moved quickly, setting down the champagne bottles with shaking hands. I'd been working here for six months, and I'd walked in on scenes like this before, but it never got easier. The sounds, the wetness, the soft moans... I could never get used to all of his.

Don't look. Just finish and leave.

But my eyes betrayed me. The blonde woman looked up at Mr. Chen, with hooded eyes, her lips deeping into a kiss, and he groaned, his hand tangling in her hair. She moved fast as he pulled, he held her hips tight, thrusting deeper and deeper into her.

Something low in my stomach clenched and heat pooled between my thighs. I'd never... I didn't...

"That'll be eighteen hundred," I managed, my voice barely steady.

Mr. Chen waved dismissively toward the table where a stack of bills sat.

"Take two thousand. You're a good girl."

Good girl. The words shouldn't have affected me, but they did. I grabbed the money, shoved it in my apron, and practically ran for the door.

"Wait," the redhead called, her voice husky. "You could join us, you know. Chen here loves a little variety."

My stomach flipped.

"I... I just serve drinks."

Mr. Chen chuckled, breathless.

"Shame. You're prettier than most of the girls who say yes."

I fled.

In the hallway, I pressed my back against the wall, trying to calm my racing heart. I pressed my thighs together, hating the ache that had settled there.

What the hell was wrong with me?

I'd seen this before. Sex was sold at Club Obsidian, though not officially, but everyone knew what happened in those private rooms. The dancers, the "hostesses," they made more in one night than I made in a month. But I'd told myself I was different. I was just a server and i kept my clothes on, I kept my dignity.

Except right now, dignity felt like a luxury I couldn't afford.

I found Maya in the break room twenty minutes later, touching up her lipstick in the mirror. She looked stunning as always,her curly black hair wild and sexy, her curves fitted perfectly into the dress

"Girl, you look like you've seen a ghost," she said, turning to me with concern in her dark eyes.

"What happened?"

I collapsed into a chair.

"I just walked in on Mr. Chen getting... serviced. By two women."

Maya snorted.

"That old pervert? Yeah, he's here every Friday. Tips well though."

"He asked if I wanted to join."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"And?"

"And I said no!" I felt defensive, like I had to justify myself.

"Maya, you know I don't do that."

"I know, mama. I know." She sat beside me, her expression softening.

"But..." "But what?"

She hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "How's your mom?"

The question hit me in ways I'd never expected. I'd visited the hospital earlier today, before my shift and the memory was still fresh.

"Not good," I whispered. My throat tightened.

"The doctor says she needs to start a new treatment. Some experimental thing that might actually work."

"That's great!"

"It costs fifty thousand dollars. That's the upfront."

Maya's face fell

Ava..."

"I have three thousand saved. Maybe four if I pick up extra shifts." I laughed, but it came out bitter.

"I'm so fucked, Maya. She's dying, and I can't do anything about it."

My mother, Elena Scott. The woman who raised me alone after my father walked out when I was twelve. She worked double shifts at the diner until her body gave out. She sacrificed everything so I could have a chance at something better. And now she was in a hospital bed, while I served champagne to rich men getting blow jobs.

The injustice of it burned in my chest.

"There are... other ways to make money here," Maya said carefully.

"You know that."

"You mean sell my body."

"I mean survive." Her voice was firm but not unkind.

"Look, I'm not saying you have to. But Ava, you're beautiful. You could make that fifty thousand in a few months, maybe less. Some of these men pay crazy money for..."

"For what? For sex? For me to become a prostitute?"

"For companionship, for fantasy. For whatever they want to call it." Maya grabbed my hands.

"I'm not judging you either way. If you want to stay a server, stay a server. But don't act like the choice is beneath you when your mother is dying."

Her words stung because they were true.

I thought about Mr. Chen's offer. About the women in that room, about how easy they made it look. About the money that exchanged hands for a few minutes of pleasure.

Could I do that? Could I let some stranger touch me, use me, just for money?

The old Ava, the one from six months ago, would have said absolutely not. But the old Ava hadn't watched her mother waste away. She hadn't felt this desperate.

"I don't know if I can," I admitted.

Maya squeezed my hands.

"Then don't. We'll figure something else out."

But we both knew there was nothing else to figure out. I'd already tried everything; loans, credit cards and fundraising. The hospital wouldn't budge on payment plans without the money and my mother would die. It was that simple and that brutal.

"Hey," Maya said, cutting into my thoughts.

"There's a high roller coming in tonight. Like, seriously high roller. Word is he tips in thousands, not hundreds."

My heart skipped. "Who?"

"Don't know. Marco's being weird about it, all secretive. But apparently this guy could buy this whole club without blinking." She gave me a pointed look.

"If you're assigned to his section, just... be smart, okay? Men with that kind of money don't play by normal rules."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means they take what they want. And they don't like hearing no." She stood, smoothing down her dress.

"Just be careful. Not everyone who looks like a dream is safe."

I just nodded as I don't quite understand what she was saying.

After Maya left, I sat alone in the break room when my phone buzzed. It was a text from the hospital: It was a reminder that says: Treatment decision needed by end of week. Please contact the billing department by the end of the week, in three days.

Three days to come up with fifty thousand dollars or watch my mother die. I closed my eyes, fighting back tears. I couldn't afford to cry. I had two more hours of this shift, and I needed every dollar.

When I opened my eyes again, something had shifted inside me.

Maybe Maya was right. Maybe survival meant doing things I never thought I'd do. The desperate love for my mother could mean sacrificing pieces of myself.

I stood, straightened my dress, and headed back to the floor. The main floor was packed. Most of them were not even ashamed. They were kissing so intimately and in some corners, some ladies were riding hard on the men's dicks. And all of a sudden, people turned and the conversations paused. I ooked toward the entrance, and that's when I saw him.

I could feel his eyes sweeping across the club. Until they landed on me, and everything stopped.

My breath caught in my throat. He stared at me like he could see through my clothes, through my skin and straight into my soul.

And God help me, I stared back. I didn't know who he was. Didn't know his name or why he was here or why he looked at me like that.

His eyes were oceans eyes, I could drown in them. I could see his muscles from the shirt he wore, and God! He was super tall and deadly handsome.

I was still lost in thought when he started walking toward me.