Five

H E R

"By Domi, meet Michael," Tucker grins, gesturing with a quick flick of his wrist as the man beside him stands to his full height, adjusting the lapels of his black tailored jacket with the ease of someone who owns everything he touches.

Michael Jackson.

He didn't smile.

Didn't blink.

Not even flinch.

His gaze locked on me with through precision—dissecting, peeling back layers I hadn't offered. I didn't know whether I felt observed, or consumed.

I felt like a science project under his microscope. Every breath I took, every shift in weight from one foot to the other felt monitored. Not judged—but studied. Like he was deciding what to do with me af this very moment.

"Nice to meet you,..Mr. Jackson," I say, extending a hand, my voice calmer than I expected. Polite. Ironically some what controlled. The other hand gripped my purse tightly, seeming to be the only anchor I had in the moment.

His eyes narrowed just slightly. Then—

"Pleasure... all mine," he said, voice smooth like velvet, but threaded with something much sinister.

Pure Poisonous Possession.

He took my hand gently—almost respectfully —brushing a thumb across my knuckles without ever breaking eye contact. His mouth was warm, but his eyes were cold.

I caught Tucker grinning out of the corner of my eye, clearly enjoying the show. Michael's gaze finally broke as he nodded at him, silently dismissive.

"I'll give you two a moment," Mac chimed in like a stagehand excusing himself before the real performance began. His snicker echoed off the walls as he disappeared through the door, leaving us alone.

Michael slowly released my hand like he didn't want to, like he was letting go of something expensive and rare.

But that wasn't what unsettled me.

It was how he looked at me—like he already owned me.

And yet... I didn't move.

It felt like I was standing at the edge of a ten-inch crater, one misstep away from being swallowed whole. His cologne drifted between us—like a brandy and leather fragrance, dense and masculine, expensive in a way that wasn't just about money. A quiet dominance.

Still, neither of us spoke. Silence stretched long and heavy between us.

"You're... not what I expected," he finally said, voice low, intimate.

I raised a brow, arms folding lightly in front of me. "What did you expect?"

His head tilted, slightly amused. "Something shinier. Louder. More... desperate."

"Sorry to disappoint."

"Oh, I'm not," he said, stepping forward. Just one pace—but it felt like a threat and an invitation at once. "I'm quite intrigued."

"You watch all women this closely?" I asked, forcing my feet to stay planted.

He smirked, just a flicker of it. "Only the ones I gotta have."

I swallowed.

He saw through everything I worked to keep composed.

What am I saying? He doesn't know me.

"Don't get me mistake for a pawn in your little men's club game," He says said flatly, voice low. "A man of my caliber could get any woman he wants."

"Then why am I here?" I reply coyly as he begins to walk close.

Michael's eyes lit with something darker. "If I see what I want, then I take it."

"What are you saying?" I say almost defensively.

"I think," he said, stepping close enough for me to feel the heat radiating from him, "you've spent so much time trying to stay in control that you haven't considered what it might feel like to give in." He says closing in the gap between us so I could smell more of him.

My breath caught.

Not because I was scared. But because part of me—the part I didn't even want to admit existed—understood exactly what he meant.

"You don't even know me," I whispered.

"I don't have to. You walked onto that stage and I saw it. All of it."

"What did you see?"

He leaned in, hands clasped behind his back—his voice brushing my ear like the whisper of danger itself.

"Hunger for control, but what you truly need is to be opened to submission."

"Submission?..I'm no one's property." I retort defensively nearly.

"No? Then good. That means this interaction can be much easier. You're not suppose to be here, angelface."

The name made something twist inside me.

Angelface

I stood there, trying to think clearly.Trying to stay sharp.But his words unspooled in my mind like silk ribbons.

"Angelface?"

"You don't need me to tell you how dashing your looks are...woman you're well aware.."He says looking over a the bar mirror capturing my side profile.

"Is it okay if I call you that? Angelface?" He smirks against my ear.

My breath hikes up and my knees felt as if they were buckling.

"Uhm, sure."

Truth was, I didn't know what it would feel like to submit.But the way he said it?It didn't sound like weakness.It sounded like release.

I hated that my body reacted before my mind could argue. That a single sentence had wormed its way into a place no one was supposed to reach.

He stepped back, just slightly. Enough for me to breathe again.

"I scare you," he said, not as a question, but a fact.

I shook my head. "You don't."

He smiled. A slow, knowing curve of his mouth that said he'd already won something.

"Good. Because scared girls bore me. I don't need you to be afraid of me now, girl... I just need you to listen when I speak."

"And if I don't?"

He shrugged, letting silence hang in the air again. Then leaned in close, voice a breath above a whisper.

"Then I'll make you."

I blinked. Heat spread across my chest, pooling somewhere low, somewhere dangerous.

The door creaked. I jerked away from him as if electrocuted, and Tucker stepped back in, pretending like he hadn't been listening the entire time.

"Everything good in here?" he asked, tone casual, but his eyes flicked between us with sharp interest.

Michael didn't even flinch.

"Perfect," he said, his eyes still on me. "We were just getting acquainted."

Tucker clapped his hands once. "Good."

Michael's jaw ticked, but he nodded, offering me a final glance that settled low in my belly.

"This isn't over," he said quietly before letting me walk away, and turning back to look over the ledge.

He didn't look back.

And yet, I felt him.Still.

In my pulse.In my breath.In the way my body suddenly didn't feel like mine.

"You're free to go Domi, get home safely." Tucker says nodding me off.

Without a follow up I immediately waltz towards the door, hoping to not be swallowed by anything more than the brief interaction.

"Oh and Domi..." Tucker says stopping me from turning into my tracks.

"Yes, Tucker." I reply slowly looking back to him.

"Speak no word of who you saw tonight..or there will be consequences that I can't save you from." He says giving me no comfort at all on what the follow up may be if I was to spill the beans