The penthouse suite was… huge. Windows showing the whole glittering city. Soft lights that made everywhere and everything romantic.
A table was set for two near the window. It had fancy plates and crystal glasses. It felt like a movie set. Fake.
Then he walked in from another room. Alexander.
My breath hitched. Not from fear. From surprise.
He wasn't old. He wasn't ugly. He was… beautiful. Seriously.
He had golden-brown hair, a little messy. Eyes the color of deep ocean water – clear blue, wide, and slightly nervous behind stylish glasses. He looked young, barely twenty. He was tall, lean in a soft grey sweater and dark pants.
He wasn't a monster. A… model, maybe? A really nervous model.
"Winona?" His voice was quiet. Gentle. He offered a hesitant, almost shy smile. "Hi. I'm Alexander. It's... um... really nice to finally meet you." He gestured awkwardly towards the table. "Dinner's ready. I hope you like... food?"
He seemed flustered. Like he was the one out of place. Not the billionaire who's friend just bought someone's virginity for him.
"Hi, Alexander," I managed, forcing the "genuine smile" from Mr. Vale's list.
It felt stiff. "This place is amazing. Thank you for dinner." I walked towards the table, feeling like I was floating outside my body.
He pulled my chair out. Careful. Polite. "Oh, this? It's just... convenient. Near my labs." He sat opposite me, fiddling with his napkin. "I saw your latest TikTok. The one with the little guitar riff? It was really catchy. You're incredibly talented, Helene James or do you prefer I call you Winona?."
He sounded sincere. He knew my TikTok? My stomach twisted. Guilt flooded me. This wasn't some leering creep. This was a sweet, awkward guy who liked my music.
"Helene's fine" I murmured.
A server appeared silently, pouring wine. Alexander barely seemed to notice. He leaned forward a little, his blue eyes earnest behind his glasses. "Seriously, the way you blend folk with those pop hooks? It's unique. Do you write everything yourself?"
I took a tiny sip of wine. It tasted like dust. "Yeah, mostly," I said, my voice tight. Keep it positive. Neutral. "It's just... me and my guitar usually."
"That's amazing!" He looked genuinely impressed. "I tinker with algorithms all day. Making something beautiful like music? That's real magic." He blushed slightly, looking down at his plate. "Sorry. I ramble when I'm nervous."
He was nervous? I was the auction item he's crazy friend purchased for him! The disconnect was dizzying.
He talked about his work – something complex with artificial intelligence, medical applications. He lit up when he spoke about helping people, solving problems. He asked about my songwriting process. He listened. Actually listened. Like Liam used to.
Every kind word, every shy smile, every moment of genuine interest felt like a knife turning in my gut. He was nice. He was good. And I was here to lie to him. To pretend affection for his friend's money.
Dinner was exquisite. I barely tasted it. I smiled. I nodded. I asked about his day (he'd been reviewing research papers). I talked vaguely about "working on new material" (a lie). I followed the script. Each ticked box on Mr. Vale's list felt like a betrayal. Of Liam. Of myself. Even of this kind, oblivious man across the table.
The guilt was suffocating. Worse than facing a monster. Facing kindness while selling yourself was a special kind of hell.
He finished his dessert, pushing the plate away. "That was wonderful," he sighed, leaning back. He looked relaxed now, less awkward. He smiled at me. A warm, open smile that made him even more ridiculously boyish like. "Thank you for sharing dinner with me, Helene. It's been... really nice. More than I expected."
His words were the final straw. The sweetness, the innocence, the sheer wrongness of it all crashed over me.
I couldn't do this slow dance anymore. I couldn't pretend over coffee.
The script said "express physical affection." And it was what I needed to do.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I pushed my chair back slightly. The sound was loud in the quiet room. Alexander looked up, curious.
I forced another smile. "Alexander... dinner was lovely. Thank you." I took a shaky breath. My palms were slick with sweat. "But... maybe... we could go somewhere more comfortable now?" I gestured vaguely towards the bedroom door I'd seen earlier. "Upstairs?"
The effect was instant. Alexander froze. His eyes widened behind his glasses, genuine shock flashing across his face. The slight flush returned to his cheeks. He looked... bewildered. Almost disbelieving.
"Up... upstairs?" he stammered. He blinked, looking from me to the doorway and back again. "You... you want to? With... me?" He sounded genuinely surprised. Like the thought hadn't even occurred to him. Like he couldn't fathom why someone like me would want someone like him.
His beautiful, awkward, oblivious confusion made the guilt twist deeper. He had no idea. None. He thought this was a date that was going surprisingly well.
"Yes," I whispered, the word tasting like bitter in my mouth. "I want to." The biggest lie of the night. "Let's go upstairs."