Bella stood before her mirror, staring at the reflection she barely recognized. Her face was heavily made up as though she was trying to conceal her face from the reality her life had now become. Her trembling hands smoothed down the black dress clinging to her frame.
A black dress that was shorter, tighter, bolder than anything she had ever worn before. The fabric shimmered faintly in the dim light of her bedroom, as though mocking her with its purpose.
She'd borrowed the dress from an old acquaintance who hadn't asked questions, only given her a long, knowing look.
Bella adjusted the neckline for the third time, then let out a shuddering breath. "You can do this," she whispered to herself. "You have to."
Her mother's pale, fragile face flashed in her mind. The steady beep of the monitor, Rachel's exhausted expression, Chloe's worried voice on the phone. All of it pressed down on her until she couldn't breathe.
Money. That was all this night was about. She would get what she needed, and then she would walk away.
She slipped on a pair of heels, the sharp click against their apartment floor sending a chill through her. They made her feel taller, sharper, like she was dressing up as someone else entirely. Someone stronger. Someone who could sell her dignity for survival.
The cab ride was silent. Bella sat stiffly in the back seat, the city lights flashing across her face as the car wound its way toward the lounge she had passed the night before. She clenched her hands in her lap until her nails dug into her palms.
When the cab stopped, she froze for a moment, staring at the glowing neon sign above the entrance. Laughter spilled out from the doors, the sound of music thumping through the walls. It felt like stepping into another world — one she didn't belong to.
But she forced her legs to move, one shaky step after another, until she was inside.
The lounge was warm and dimly lit, filled with the scent of perfume, cologne, and expensive alcohol. People lounged in booths or gathered by the bar, talking, laughing, exchanging looks that promised unspoken deals.
Bella straightened her shoulders, walking toward the bar, though her insides twisted with every step. She needed to look like she belonged here. Like she wasn't terrified.
She scanned the entire place again, looking for any wealthy guy she could entice and then she saw him.
The man from the road. The one whose car had nearly collided with her.
He was leaning casually against the bar, a drink in his hand, his tailored suit fitting him perfectly. Her heart beat quickened.
What was he doing here? Before she could turn her face away, his eyes lifted, and for a moment, his brow furrowed as though he wasn't sure who he was looking at. Then recognition flared.
Bella's stomach lurched, but she forced her expression into cold indifference. She looked past him, as if she hadn't seen him before in her life.
He stepped closer. "You," he said, his voice low, tinged with curiosity. "We've met before, haven't we?"
Bella's lips curled into a faint smirk, though her chest pounded. "I don't think so. You must have me confused with someone else."
His gaze sharpened, as if he knew she was lying but didn't push. Instead, he studied her dress, the way she held herself. Then he asked, "Are you here with someone?"
That did it. Bella's mask cracked into something harsher. "Are you blind?" she snapped, making him raise a brow. "Do you see how I'm dressed? If I was here with someone, I wouldn't look like this. Obviously, I'm here alone and I'm to make some money, not waste my night talking."
The bluntness of her words hung in the air. His eyes narrowed slightly, but not with disgust — with intrigue.
Jake tilted his head. Though she was pretending not to know him, he could recognize her now.
He wasn't sure before but now he was. This woman—she was the woman crying on the roadside, lost in her grief and had almost ran into his car. The woman he'd seen that day wasn't the same one standing before him now.
What had changed? Hadn't she been grieving that day? Why was she here and what did she mean 'here to make some money'? He mused and then looked at her.
"You don't belong here," he said softly, more to himself than to her and Bella had heard him, thanks to the very low music playing in the lounge.
Bella stiffened but immediately regained her composure. "You don't know anything about me."
"No," Jake admitted. "But I know you're not the type to sell yourself. Not really."
Her laugh was sharp, brittle. "Then maybe you don't know me at all."
He studied her for a long moment, his gaze unflinching. Then, calmly, he asked, "Would you stop being rude to me if I told you I could offer you as much money as you need without you having to pay back or anything?"
Her heart skipped, but she forced her expression into one of cool detachment. "That would be nice," she said, her voice steady despite the tremor inside her, "but I don't want anyone's favor."
She took a good look at him and that was when she realized just how handsome he looked.
Her eyes betrayed her for a fraction of a second. She hadn't meant to notice him that way, but it was impossible not to. Not when he looked so devilishly handsome and her eyes weren't blurry with tears.
Up close, he was devastating. The low lounge lighting carved shadows across his face, highlighting the strong, aristocratic angles of his jawline, the sharp cut of his cheekbones. His dark hair was sleek, falling just slightly against his forehead in a way that looked effortlessly styled, though Bella suspected it wasn't by accident. His eyes—God, those eyes—were a piercing steel-gray, clear and unwavering, like they could strip past every wall she had painstakingly built.
His suit was immaculate, tailored to perfection, the kind of clothing that screamed money and authority. The dark fabric hugged his broad shoulders, the crisp white shirt underneath leaving just enough undone at the collar to suggest a man who didn't need to follow rules to command a room. He didn't fidget. He didn't scan the crowd nervously like she did. He simply stood there, solid, composed, radiating an aura of control that made others instinctively move aside.
Bella felt the unsettling pull of him—dangerous, magnetic. She hated it.
"When you're done staring, you could tell me the sum you need," he said with a smirk, pulling Bella out of whatever trance she'd gone into.