Amira had the entire fucking room wrapped around her finger and she knew it.

The bright lights on the stage in stark contrast with the dim lighting of the lobby obscured her view of the audience, but she could feel it.

Every man in the room stopped talking as soon as she stepped on the stage- every time she stepped on stage. She arched her back up off the floor and bent one leg in, breathing in softly and tilting her head back at just the right angle for her long dark brown hair to brush against the floor. She rolled over and shifted her weight back towards her ankles, stretching her arms out in front of her with her ass towards the ceiling and her back forming the perfect curve.

The room was filled with some of the most powerful men on ***the continent***. But in this very moment she commanded them all. And when she leaves this stage, whoever wins the bid for her attention will happily hand over a small fortune just to be at her mercy.

She felt no remorse for ruining these men. The way she saw it they were already ruined. If it wasn’t her it would be one of the other women at the brothel and truth be told they deserved to lose everything.

Even her most bearable regulars were horrible men on the outside, you had to be to acquire the wealth needed to be a regular here at The Silken Tempest.

Some might reduce her to merely a spectacle, something to be ogled at and nothing more. But she knew better than to ever believe that about herself. How could she when she’d seen what she was capable of? When she knew that what she did every night made at least one more of these upperclass men lose something.

She popped up with her legs first and slowly stood. Her nearly see through aquamarine gown, if you could even call it that left little to the imagination as she turned slowly, smirking at the audience, and left the stage.

She wanted to kill every last one of them.

And she had all the skill necessary to do so, they just didn’t know it.