If I thought the wedding party was luxurious, then what could I even say about the place Christian took me afterward?

A ridiculous penthouse on top of Rosemont Hotel, with a panoramic view of the city, a private pool, and a kind of décor that screamed, "I'm rich, and I don't even bother looking at the prices on the menu."

And me… well, I was completely dazzled. But also stunned, like the whole night had been a movie where I didn't belong in the main cast.

"Heavens…" I breathed, spinning around in the middle of the room, taking in every detail. A massive minibar, a sofa bigger than my entire bedroom, and a chandelier that probably cost more than my car. Well, I didn't even have a car. But if I did, it would still be worth less than that chandelier.

And of course, there was an illuminated infinity pool that looked straight out of a movie.

"This is insane! How can you afford something like this? If you spend this much on every client, you must be running at a loss, you know?"

Christian laughed, that deep, amused laugh that, for a moment, made me forget the hollow weight crushing my chest ever since I saw Alex and Elise together.

"I know someone who lent me the room," he said simply.

I frowned immediately, suspicious. A gigolo with access to a penthouse in the most expensive hotel in the city? Was he really keeping up the act even now?

"Oh, sure. You 'know someone.'" I made air quotes with my fingers, rolling my eyes. "Still playing the well-connected role even when we're alone? You're really committed to your job, huh?"

He just gave me a mysterious smile, saying nothing, which only made me more doubtful. I was starting to wonder what kind of gigolo felt this comfortable in such luxury.

It intrigued me for half a second. But honestly? There was a private pool right there, and I desperately needed something—anything—to push away the thoughts haunting me. The images of Alex kissing Elise, the memories of all those broken promises.

I didn't think twice.

I kicked off my heels, slid down the zipper of my dress, and let it fall to the floor, the night breeze brushing against my bare skin. The black lace lingerie now in full view stood out beautifully against the blue glow of the pool.

Christian let out a low whistle, his eyes trailing slowly over every inch of my body.

"Wow."

I shot him a look that tried to seem playful, though it probably failed to hide the storm raging inside me.

"What?"

He tilted his head slightly, his eyes gleaming with a mix of appreciation and something else… understanding?

"I'm starting to think I'm the one who made the real investment here."

I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway. A smile that never reached my eyes.

And then, without hesitation, I dove into the water. As if I could drown for a few seconds, as if the water could wash the pain away.

The impact was gentle, the temperature perfect. The hot water slid over my body like a luxurious embrace, loosening every muscle. I spun around, letting myself float for a few moments before resurfacing.

From where I was, the starlight reflected on the sea, painting a vision straight out of a dream.

"This is amazing!" I exclaimed, forcing a laugh as I ran my hands through the water.

But the truth? I didn't feel amazing.

The warmth wrapped around my body like a hug, but it couldn't melt the frozen knot lodged in my chest.

Because even there, in that perfect setting, surrounded by luxury and with a man who looked like he'd been sculpted for sin… I was still thinking about him.

Alex, standing at the altar. Elise by his side, glowing in the dress I had sold her myself.

The way he looked at me at that wedding. The surprise. The doubt.

He expected me to have crumbled. To have hidden away. To still be crying over him.

And the truth was, I was. Not in public, not where anyone could see. But alone, in my old teenage bedroom at my parents' house, where I had to move back after catching Alex and Elise together. Crying myself to sleep every night, feeling like the failure they believed me to be.

I loved that man. I trusted him. I made plans for an entire life with him.

And in the end, I was discarded as if I meant nothing. "You were always so boring." Elise's words echoed in my head like a cruel mantra. I was boring. I was ordinary. I was replaceable.

The worst part? If he apologized today, if he said it was all a mistake and that he wanted me back…

I'd probably run straight into his arms. And I hated myself for it.

My throat tightened, a different kind of heat burning behind my eyes. This time, I couldn't hold it back. A tear slipped out, blending into the pool water. Then another. And another.

I dove deep, letting the water hide my weakness. When I came back up, I took a deep breath, trying to pull myself together.

When I looked at Christian, hoping he hadn't noticed my moment of vulnerability, I found him still lounging on the chair, watching me with a serious, almost concerned expression.

"What?" I asked, swimming to the edge, trying to sound casual. "Never seen a woman enjoy life before?"

He gave me a crooked smile, though his eyes stayed serious.

"It's just funny to see someone so excited about a penthouse."

I frowned.

"What do you mean, so excited?"

He shrugged, his shirt already unbuttoned, offering a glimpse of his firm, perfectly sculpted chest.

"You act like you've never seen anything like this before."

I scoffed, splashing water in his direction, hiding my pain behind irritation.

"Because I never have. I don't know what kind of rich, bored women you're used to dealing with, but where I come from, the only thing that shines in my house is the overdue electric bill." I paused, studying him. "But you do play your role well. I almost believed you really were an heir. How does a gigolo learn to talk about investments and wineries so naturally?"

And how do you make me forget, even briefly, that I cry myself to sleep every night? I almost added, but bit it back.

He looked at me for a long moment, like he could see right through the façade I was trying so hard to hold up.

"You know, Zoey, I like the way you are."

"And who doesn't?" I shot back, but my voice cracked at the end, betraying me. Alex didn't like it. Elise didn't like it. No one ever really did.

Christian gave a crooked smile, tilting his head as if analyzing my answer.

"Modesty seems to be one of your talents too." He paused, then added, "But I wonder what you're trying to prove. Or forget."

His words hit me like a slap. For a second, I considered climbing out of the pool, grabbing my things, and leaving. But to where? Back to that bedroom in my parents' house? To hear my mother's pitying sighs every time I came out of the shower with red eyes?

"I'm not trying to prove anything," I lied, my voice quieter than I intended.

Christian studied me for another long moment, as if deciding whether or not to believe me. Then, without a word, he started unbuttoning his shirt.

And, dear God.

If I thought he looked good in a suit, shirtless was worse. Golden skin glowing under the soft deck lights, every muscle perfectly defined, tattoos scattered across his arms and torso, a sharp contrast to the polished, sophisticated image he usually carried.

My body reacted before I even realized it. Lord forgive me, but that man was walking sin. And just maybe… he could make me forget, for one night, how empty and insignificant I felt.

He rolled up the cuffs, tossed the shirt onto a chair, and began unbuckling his belt.

"Wait…" I raised an eyebrow, trying to claw back a little control. "You're coming in?"

"Didn't you want company?" There was something in his eyes, a softness that didn't match his job, or the act we were supposed to be playing.

"I figured you'd be the type to pretend you can't get your hair wet."

"And I figured you'd be the type to have invited me in a long time ago."

Because I'm desperate for some kind of connection, anything to make me feel wanted again, I thought, but only said, "Then get in." I invited him, fully aware of exactly what was about to happen. One night with a stranger, to dull the loneliness that had been eating me alive since I lost everything.

My heart pounded harder.

He unbuckled his belt, opened his pants, and let them drop, revealing tight black briefs clinging to his body. And I swear, I almost forgot to breathe. Every muscle, every line of his body looked sculpted for sin. And he knew it.

He swam toward me slowly, as if he had all the time in the world. But his eyes said something else. He was hungry. For me.

For a moment, I hesitated. A stranger pretending to be rich by day, now looking at me like I was something special. What was I even doing? But then I remembered Alex, the way he looked at me at the wedding, the way Elise smiled with pity, like I was too pathetic to ever find someone like Christian on my own. I needed this. I needed to feel wanted again, even if it was by a man I was paying.

When he was close enough, his hands slid around my waist under the water, his fingers tracing a slow path across my tingling skin.

"You're trembling," he murmured, his mouth dangerously close to mine.

"I'm not."

He smiled. That damned, seductive smile.

"We'll see."

His hands drifted lower, gliding along my back, over the curve of my hip, until they stopped between my thighs.

And then, he touched me.

I let out a sharp breath, clutching at his shoulders.

His touch wasn't impatient. It was torturous.

His fingertips moved like he was mapping me, studying my skin, savoring every little reaction. Like he wanted to prolong every second.

And I was trembling.

He knew it.

But he didn't give me time to think.

He lifted me effortlessly into his arms, my legs wrapping around his waist without a thought. And that was when I felt his arousal pressed firmly against me, hard, hot, pulsing. And it was big. Very big.

A part of me, the rational part, screamed that he was only doing his job. That every calculated touch, every intense look, every teasing whisper was just part of his act. But right then, I didn't care. I needed to feel desired. I needed to drown out those cruel words that still echoed in my head, 'You were always so boring.'

"You like it when I tease you, don't you?" he murmured, his mouth trailing along my neck.

My nails dug into his shoulders when I felt his warm tongue trace a slow path across my skin.

"Christian…"

He let out a low laugh, the sound vibrating against me, making me gasp.

"You'd better hold on."

And then, he really kissed me. It wasn't gentle. It was deep, demanding, hot.

His hands slid over my wet body, exploring, gripping, claiming. Every touch felt deliberate, like he knew exactly where to place his fingers, how to press against my skin at just the right angle, how to make me lose control.

And I did.

I lost control, lost track of time, lost the memory of the pain that had been haunting me. For those moments, there was only him and me, and the electric sensations shooting through my body every time he touched me.

My fingers tangled in his wet hair, pulling, guiding, demanding more.

He pressed me tighter against him and moved, swimming with me to the edge of the pool, where he trapped me against the wall, his strong, hot body pressing into mine.

"Now there's nowhere to run," he whispered against my lips.

I let out a short, breathless laugh.

"And who said I want to run?"

He smiled, satisfied.

The wet bra vanished before I even realized it, his fingers far too skilled. And then his mouth was there. Heat. Tongue. Teeth grazing. I yanked his hair when his tongue circled my nipple and he sucked hard.

"Christian…"

"You have the sweetest way of saying my name."

'If that's even your real name,' I thought for a fleeting moment. How many times had he played this role? How many women had moaned a name that wasn't even his?

His fingers slid along the edge of my soaked panties, tugged—and then they were gone.

The water rippled around us with every movement, and when he positioned me exactly where he wanted, there was no going back.

He held me firmly, keeping me in place with one hand while the other guided himself to me.

And then, he thrusted into me.

I gasped.

My body arched into his.

"Fuck, Zoey…" he ground out between his teeth, his voice rough and dripping with desire.

Something in his tone felt too real to be an act. Like, just for a moment, he forgot I was just another client.

He moved slowly at first, his eyes locked on mine, studying every reaction.

I felt everything. The warm water around us seemed icy compared to the heat between us.

My fingers dug into his shoulders, my legs tightening around his waist.

I wanted more. I needed more. Needed to forget everything beyond this pool, beyond this moment.

And he knew it. His grip on my waist tightened. And then, he took me completely. Every thrust was firm, deep, deliberate.

The pleasure built in crashing waves, overwhelming, and my body met his rhythm, clinging, desperate for more.

The world disappeared.

There was only him.

The way he held me, the way he seemed to know exactly what to do to push me to the edge.

His rough groans mixing with mine.

The sound of water splashing around us.

The impact of our bodies meeting, harder, faster, more urgent with every thrust.

My breath caught in my throat as the tension inside me coiled tighter, past the point of no return.

I was close.

So close.

"Christian…"

"Come for me, Zoey," he whispered in my ear, his voice thick with pleasure.

That request was my undoing.

The shock of release ripped through me like lightning, tearing me apart from the inside, shattering every shred of control.

I unraveled completely in his arms, every muscle in my body trembling, convulsing with the force of it.

And the very next moment, he followed me.

With one last, powerful thrust, his body tightened and he groaned my name through clenched teeth, burying his face in my neck as he gave in fully.

The silence that followed was broken only by the sound of our ragged breathing.

I felt his arms still holding me, steady, almost like he refused to let me go.

He kissed my shoulder slowly, his lips warm and soft against my skin.

And when he lifted his face, that damned smile was there again.

"Best deal I've ever made," I muttered before I could stop myself.

But the moment the words left my lips, the emptiness crept back in. Deal. That was what this was. A financial arrangement. A transaction.

For a moment, I had forgotten none of this was real. That he was only following the script I'd paid him for. That tomorrow I'd be back in that cramped room at my parents' house, back to selling wedding dresses to women like Elise, back to crying alone at night over all the promises Alex had broken.

But that night, for a few hours, I wasn't the betrayed and abandoned woman. I wasn't the professionally frustrated one. I wasn't the pathetic girl who had to move back in with her parents at twenty-six.

I was a woman in control.

And Christian?

Christian was worth every penny.

The problem?

I was about to find out what that bill would really cost me.

I woke up slowly, stretching like a lazy cat after a night absurdly well spent.

The soft sheets caressed my skin, and my whole body ached deliciously. The good kind of ache. The kind that only comes after a night worth every second.

I let out a satisfied sigh before opening my eyes.

Then I rolled to the side, ready to curl back into the warm, muscular body that should have been there.

But what did I find?

Nothing.

The other side of the bed was empty. No sign of Christian. No steady breathing. No hand pulling me in for a morning round two.

Oh, wonderful. The gigolo ditched me.

I closed my eyes for a moment and drew in a deep breath.

Not even breakfast? Not even a sweet goodbye? Not even a note saying 'Had a great time, let's do it again'?

Cheap little seducer.

Well… not cheap. Very expensive.

I knew this would happen.

So why was that annoying sting of disappointment growing in my chest?

Maybe… maybe I could see him again. If I saved up a little, maybe I could afford another night…

No, no, no!

I shook my head, swatting the thought away like it was some irritating mosquito.

"You're losing it, Zoey. He's just a gigolo… He did with you what he does with all the others."

Was I seriously considering spending what little money I had on a gigolo?

God help me.

But still…

A 'you were amazing, baby, sleep well' would've been nice, right?

I got up, muttering under my breath, and wrapped the sheet around me before heading to the suite's living room. And that's when I saw it—

A breakfast spread fit for royalty.

I froze, blinking.

Golden croissants. Exotic fruit. Coffee served in porcelain so fine it was probably worth more than my rent.

I frowned.

"Uh… weird. Did I accidentally pay for some premium combo without noticing?"

Before I could question it further, my stomach made the choice for me. If the food was here, it was mine.

I sat down and started eating like there was no tomorrow.

After eating what felt like the GDP of a small country, I headed to the bathroom. At least Christian had left me with a five-star shower to enjoy.

And what a shower! The stall had more buttons than a spaceship, and I spent the first five minutes just testing water jets like a kid discovering new toys.

After the bath, my brain finally landed back on planet Earth. I needed to work.

My phone? Dead. My dignity? Almost dead. My commitment to my boss? Unfortunately, very much alive.

It didn't make sense to go home and then to the shop, so I stopped at a little store and bought some basic jeans and a comfy blouse. No way was I showing up to work in last night's party dress, thank you very much.

An hour later, I walked into the boutique, tired but alive.

At least, that was what I thought, until I saw who was waiting for me.

My eyes went wide. My heart jolted like I'd just been electrocuted. My bag slipped off my shoulder and hit the floor with a dull thud.

"Holy shit!" I blurted, a hand flying to cover my mouth.

Christian. Smiling. Polished. And absolutely shameless, standing there like he had every right to invade my real life.

"What are you doing here?" The words came out in a high, almost unrecognizable pitch.

He flashed a lazy grin.

"Missed you, babe."

"Don't call me that." My eyes darted frantically around the store, checking if anyone heard.

"You didn't seem to mind last night."

Son of a bitch.

I was in no mood for his little games. Not after he left me in bed like some cheap delivery order.

That's when my boss appeared, excited.

"Zoey! I'm so glad you're here! We have a very important client! He asked for you personally."

My eyebrow twitched.

"What?"

She just beamed, completely blind to the arrogant glow radiating off Christian.

"Mr. Kensington wants to buy a wedding dress, and he insists you're the one to help him."

I swallowed hard.

I looked at Christian. Then at my boss. Then back at Christian.

And that was when it clicked.

He was screwing with me.

He had to be.

"Oh, sure. Now you've got some weird fetish for wedding dresses?"

Christian smiled, clearly amused.

"Maybe."

I turned to my boss.

"Are you sure he… actually wants to buy a dress?"

"Absolutely! He's already looked at several, but he says he wants your opinion."

I swung back to him.

"What are you up to?"

He just tilted his head.

"Come on, Zoey. You sell wedding dresses. I need one. Where's the weird part in that?"

'Everything, Christian! The weird part is everything!'

But my boss was right there, looking like she was ready to fire me if I refused.

So, I shut my eyes and took a deep breath.

"Fine. Let's just get this over with."

I spent the next twenty minutes showing Christian different options. He rejected every single one. He was there to torture me. To watch me squirm. To amuse himself while I tried to stay professional and not shove a hanger through his face in front of my boss.

"And this one?" My voice came out sweet and professional, but in my head, I was stabbing him with the hanger.

"You look gorgeous when you're mad."

My brain short-circuited.

"Excuse me?!"

He shrugged, picking up another dress and holding it in front of me, like he was imagining me wearing it—or worse, taking it off.

"I'm trying to decide here…" he said loudly, clearly for my boss's benefit, then lowered his voice to a whisper laced with wickedness. "Whether you look prettier when you're mad… or when you're coming."

My entire body froze.

"Christian!" I hissed, my face burning hot.

He just gave me a devilish smile.

"Would be great to test it again. But in the meantime…" His eyes roamed over me slowly as he held the dress against me, tilting his head with that infuriatingly meticulous look of evaluation. "This one's good, but something bolder suits you more, don't you think?"

"Christian, do you actually want a dress, or did you just come here to ruin my life?" I asked, narrowing my eyes.

He tilted his head, thoughtful.

"Both."

Blood rushed to my head so fast everything turned red for a second.

"Now show me your favorite."

My patience jumped right off the balcony.

"My what?"

"Your favorite dress."

I blinked.

"You want to know my favorite dress?"

I grabbed an iconic Maison Deveraux design—one of the most exclusive, luxurious gowns in the shop—and ran my fingers down the flawless fabric, the silk gliding smooth against my skin. It was a dress made for royalty, the kind of piece any woman would dream of wearing as she walked down the aisle, glowing with glamour and sophistication.

And of course, it was ridiculously expensive.

I drew in a breath, lifted the gown, and looked at Christian, bracing myself for another one of his provocations.

He looked at me. Then at the dress.

And then he said the words that made my heart stop.

"I'll take this one."

I blinked, trying to process.

"Sorry… what?"

"I'll take this dress."

My stomach twisted with suspicion.

"For what?"

He arched a brow, as if my question was the dumbest thing he'd ever heard.

"For my fiancée." He let the pause stretch, then added with a playful smile, "Or do you think people buy wedding dresses to go for a stroll in the park?"

My brain melted.

"You're engaged?!"

Oh, shit. I'd slept with a taken man? A knot formed in my throat as guilt clawed through me.