The city looked like a watercolor painting through the rain-streaked windshield—all smudged yellows and bleeding reds. Ariella Monroe had her foot pressed to the accelerator, and honestly? The Lamborghini was loving it. The engine practically purred with satisfaction.
She cranked up the music until her chest vibrated with the bass. Some angry rap song that matched her mood perfectly. The prescription bottle in the cupholder was doing its little rattle dance, pills scattered like confetti. Her black nail polish was chipped to hell, but her grip on the wheel was steady.
Where was she even going?
No clue. Didn't matter.
She just needed to move. To feel the speed, the rush, the beautiful recklessness of not giving a damn about anything.
Red light ahead. She blew right through it.
Car horns screamed behind her. Someone shouted something she couldn't hear over the music. Ariella actually laughed—the kind of laugh that sounded a little too close to crying.
Then everything went white.
A camera flash? Street light? She'd never know.
Because suddenly there was a wall where there shouldn't be one.
And then....
CRASH!!!
The world tilted sideways. Glass everywhere, sparkling like broken diamonds. The smell of smoke and something metallic. Her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton.
Ariella blinked. Once. Twice.
Ow.
Blood dripped down her forehead—not a lot, just enough to sting. The car looked like a crumpled soda can around her. How was she even conscious right now?
Voices started filtering in through the ringing in her ears.
"Holy shit, is that—"
"It's her! Ariella Monroe!"
"Someone call 911!"
"Get a picture, quick!"
"She looks totally wasted."
Great. An audience.
She caught her reflection in what was left of the rearview mirror. Mascara streaked down her cheeks like war paint. Split lip. Eyes that looked... empty. Like nobody was home.
Perfect. Just perfect.
The Next Morning
"You look like hell."
Thanks, Dad. Real supportive.
Ariella slumped deeper into the ridiculously expensive leather chair in her father's study, designer sunglasses firmly in place. The morning light felt like needles, even through the tinted lenses.
James Monroe stood behind his massive desk like some kind of corporate general, newspapers spread out like evidence in a crime scene. And wow, the headlines were brutal.
"HEIRESS GONE WILD: Ariella's Latest Crash"
"DADDY'S LITTLE DISAS*TER STRIKES AGAIN"
"MONROE MONEY CAN'T BUY COMMON SENSE"
Ouch. But also... fair.
"You crashed a million-dollar car, Ariella." His voice had that controlled fury thing going on. "On Sunset Boulevard. While high. Do you have any idea what that does to our family's reputation?"
She pulled off her sunglasses and looked at him with eyes that felt like sandpaper. "But I'm alive, right? That's gotta count for something."
His palm hit the desk so hard she jumped.
"Barely alive! You could have killed someone. You could have killed yourself."
And there it was. The tiny crack in his composure that showed he actually gave a damn about her. It lasted about two seconds before the business mask slid back into place.
"Rehab clearly isn't working," he said, straightening his tie. "So we're trying something different this time."
Ariella raised an eyebrow. "What, prison? A convent? Ooh, are you shipping me off to military school?"
"I'm getting you a driver."
She blinked. "A... what now?"
"A full-time, personal driver. Someone to make sure you don't destroy any more of my property. Or yourself."
The laugh that bubbled up was half hysteria, half disbelief. "You're giving me a babysitter?"
"I'm giving you supervision." He slid a thin file across the polished desk. "His name is Leo Cruz. Former military, worked as a mechanic. He's very quiet and professional."
Ariella stared at the file like it might bite her. "He won't last a week."
"He will." James leaned forward, and his voice went ice-cold. "Because if he quits, if you drive him away, I will cut you off. Completely. No more credit cards, no more apartment, no more cars....nothing at all"
The words hit like a slap. Ariella sat back, genuinely speechless for the first time in... well, maybe ever.
Leo Cruz.
She'd never heard of him, but something told her he was about to become a very big problem.
And she had a feeling she wasn't going to like it one bit.