Chapter 6
522words
The mention of coffee makes my stomach turn as I remember Lucas's betrayal just yesterday. "I'm not really hungry."
His expression shifts, something like concern crossing his features. "You should eat something. After the night you had."
Is he referring to our activities or my emotional state when we met? Either way, I'm mortified.
"I really need to go." I reach into my purse, fumbling for my wallet. "How much do I owe you for... for last night?"
His entire body goes still. "Excuse me?"
"For your services," I clarify, pulling out all the cash I have—about two thousand dollars. "I'm not sure what the going rate is, but—"
"You think I'm an escort?" He seems amused..
"Aren't you? I mean, the private suite at an exclusive club, the way you approached me at the bar..."
For a moment, he just stares at me, and I wish the floor would open up and swallow me whole. Then, unexpectedly, his lips curve into an enigmatic smile.
"Put your money away, Sienna," he says, "The first time was on the house."
"But—"
"Consider it a... professional courtesy of a... high-end escort." There's something almost predatory in his gaze now, amused but with an edge that makes my pulse quicken.
"I don't understand," I admit, confused by his reaction.
He moves to a closet and pulls out a fresh shirt, holding it out to me. "That one's wrinkled. Take this instead."
I accept the clean shirt, grateful for the chance to change. "Thank you. For the shirt and for... last night."
"It was my pleasure." His intense gaze fixed on me, "Truly."
An awkward silence falls between us. What's the protocol here? Do I ask for his number? Do I just leave? I've never had a one-night stand before, let alone with a mysterious man who seems to be a high-end escort.
"I should go," I say again.
He nods, but as I move toward the door, he catches my wrist. His touch is gentle but sends electricity racing up my arm. "Sienna."
"Yes?"
"If you ever need... services again, call me." He presses something into my palm—a sleek black business card with just a phone number embossed in silver. No name. No company.
"Okay. Goodbye, Damon." I slip the card into my purse, knowing I should throw it away but certain I won't.
"Until next time," he replies, with such certainty that it sounds like a promise.
As the elevator descends to the lobby, I lean against the wall, exhaling slowly. What just happened? Did I really spend the night with a stranger—a devastatingly handsome, mysterious stranger—after the worst day of my life?
And why, despite everything, do I feel more alive than I have in years?
Outside, the morning sun is blinding. I slip on my sunglasses, wincing at my hangover, and walk to my car. My phone shows five missed calls from Lucas and text messages from my assistant manager Mia.
Reality crashes back like a tidal wave. I still have endometriosis. I still caught my boyfriend cheating with my stepsister just yesterday. I still have a coffee shop to run.
