Work the next day was dead. The kind of slow where the champagne flutes stayed full, the lights felt too dim, and I could practically hear the clock mocking me with every tick.
I leaned against the bar, tapping my nails on the counter, bored out of my mind. Lila slid in beside me, her tray balanced against her hip, smirk already in place.
"Well?" she whispered, eyes gleaming. "Did he call? Did you call? Did anyone call anyone?"
I rolled my eyes, but the heat already crept up my neck. "He didn't call. But he… came to my apartment."
Her jaw dropped so fast I thought I heard it click. "Excuse me?"
I winced. "Not like that. He just—showed up. Said he has something I want."
"And what's that?" she asked, leaning in like she was starving for the details.
I huffed. "Riches, obviously."
Lila slapped the counter. "I knew it. Girl, that man is dangerous, but he's loaded. Don't tell me you're saying no."
I crossed my arms. "He asked for three dates. Then if I like him…" I swallowed, the weight of his words echoing in my head. "Marry him."
Her squeal nearly shattered the martini glasses. She grabbed my shoulders, shaking me like a ragdoll. "You're going shopping. Tonight. No excuses."
---
A few hours later, I was regretting letting her drag me downtown. Lila was flitting from rack to rack, holding up dresses that cost more than three months of my rent.
"Try this one—oh, no, this one screams tempt me, daddy."
"Lila!" I hissed, shoving the hanger back at her, though my laugh betrayed me.
We were halfway through a heated debate about whether I could pull off red when a deep voice cut through the store.
"Miss Hayes."
I froze. Turning, I found one of Damien's guards—the one who'd been outside my apartment. Dark-skinned, buzz cut with sharp waves, shoulders like a tank. His presence filled the boutique so thoroughly that even the salesgirl stuttered.
"Uh…" I blinked. "CJ, right?"
He gave a curt nod. "Mr. Blackwood sent me. He thought you might need assistance preparing for your… date."
My stomach twisted. "He told you about that?"
CJ didn't even blink. "He tells me everything I need to know." He reached into his jacket, pulled out a sleek black card, and held it out to me. "His card. Buy whatever you need."
For a moment, I just stared at it. Black. Heavy. The kind of card that whispered unlimited power. My fingers trembled as I took it.
Lila's squeal could've cracked glass. "Scarlett. He gave you the black card. Oh, baby, we're not just shopping—we're ascending."
And ascend we did.
---
The rest of the day blurred into indulgence I'd only ever dreamed of. Dresses draped in silk and sequins. Heels that made my legs look like they went on for days. Lila forced me into a salon chair for hair and nails, then straight into a makeup studio where artists brushed and painted me into something unrecognizable.
"Girl, you look like sin in human form," Lila whispered, practically fanning herself.
By the time we collapsed into a restaurant booth for dinner—bags piled around us like trophies—I was exhausted, buzzing on adrenaline, and drowning in the scent of Chanel clinging to my skin.
CJ, silent and patient as stone, stood outside the whole time, waiting. When we finally emerged, he loaded every single bag into the black SUV like it weighed nothing.
"Home?" he asked simply.
"Yeah," I said, sinking into the backseat.
Lila squeezed my hand before we parted. "Remember, sis, tomorrow isn't just a date—it's destiny."
---
The drive home was quiet, just the hum of the engine and the ghost of Damien's shadow stretching over me even though he wasn't there. By the time CJ dropped me off, the adrenaline had faded into a jittery hum.
I unpacked nothing. I just lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, my mind replaying the day.
His card. His guard. His reach.
He hadn't just touched my waist in that bar. He'd touched my life, my choices, my freedom.
My phone buzzed on the nightstand.
I grabbed it, heart in my throat.
Damien: Are you asleep yet?
I stared at the screen, pulse racing.
The man didn't even knock. He just walked into my life and made himself at home. And now, he was crawling into my thoughts, my bed, my night.
My thumbs hovered, trembling. Do I play coy? Do I sass him? Do I ignore him and risk whatever that might mean?
Either way, I knew one thing.
I wasn't getting any sleep tonight.
Damien: Are you asleep yet?
Scarlett: Bold of you to assume I sleep at all.
Damien: That explains the attitude. No rest makes for a fiery temper.
Scarlett: Don't act like you don't like it.
Damien: I like watching you try to bite.
Damien: Keyword—try.
Scarlett: Oh please. Keep talking and I might actually sink my teeth into you.
Damien: Promise?
Scarlett: Don't flatter yourself.
Damien: Too late. I'm already picturing it.
Scarlett: 🙄 You're impossible.
Damien: Yet, here you are. Wide awake. Texting me.
Scarlett: Only because you won't leave me alone.
Damien: Admit it, Red. You'd miss me if I stopped.
Scarlett: …Maybe. A tiny bit.
Scarlett: But don't let it get to that giant ego of yours.
Damien: Too late again. My ego is already writing its acceptance speech.
Scarlett: You're insufferable.
Damien: And yet, you're smiling right now.
Scarlett: I'm not.
Damien: Liar.
Scarlett: …Fine. Maybe a little.
Damien: Thought so.
Damien: By the way, don't stay up too late. You'll need your energy for tomorrow.
Scarlett: Tomorrow? What's tomorrow?
Damien: Your date with me.
Scarlett: Oh, right. That thing.
Damien: That thing? Careful, Red. I might just have to make it unforgettable.
Scarlett: Big words. Don't disappoint.
Damien: I don't disappoint. Ever.
Scarlett: Cocky.
Damien: Confident.
Damien: You'll see. Sweet dreams, Red.
Scarlett: Goodnight, Mr. Too-Sure-Of-Himself.
Damien: Dream of me.
Scarlett: In your dreams.
Damien: Exactly.