3. Here Goes Nothing

Loriah’s PoV

I was rummaging through my tiny closet, biting my lip as my hands sifted over the same three blouses for the tenth time. Nothing felt right. Nothing felt… special enough. My heart was already a chaotic drum, and I hadn’t seen him yet.

The doorbell rang.

“Loriah, it’s me—Claire!”

I yanked the door open, and she breezed in like she owned the place. Her heels clicked against the floor, impossibly tall and sharp, matching her confidence. She wore a leopard-print crop top so tight it looked painted on, with black jeans that hugged her curves like a second skin. Her brown hair was pulled into a sleek ponytail, her makeup flawless, and her eyeliner sharp enough to kill. She looked like she belonged on the cover of a magazine.

“You look stunning,” I muttered.

Claire smirked, holding up a shopping bag. “I came here to rescue you.”

She dumped the bag on my bed and shook out a handful of dresses. Fabrics in every color spilled across my quilt like treasure. My eyes caught on one—a pistachio green dress, soft and feminine, with delicate straps. My fingers grazed the fabric.

“I… like this one,” I said cautiously.

Claire’s grin widened. “Of course you do. That color with your sapphire eyes? Perfection. Draco won’t know what hit him.”

“I’ll pay you for it,” I blurted, because guilt pricked me. I had never been the type to take things without offering something back.

“Girl, stop.” She flopped onto my bed dramatically. “I’ve had that dress forever. Couldn’t fill out the chest to save my life. At least you can give it justice.”

I laughed, tension easing, and we were just two girls playing dress-up for a second.

Claire got to work, pinning my unruly curls half-up, half-down, soft tendrils framing my face. She dusted my cheeks with blush, brushed something subtle over my eyelids, and painted my lips the lightest shade of rose. “Not too much,” she said firmly. “You want him staring at you, not your makeup.”

“I don’t even know if I should go,” I admitted as I adjusted the dress over my shoulders. “Draco… he’s—”

The sharp sound of a car horn cut me off. Claire darted to the window, yanked the curtain aside, and froze.

“Oh. My. God.”

“What?” I rushed over, my stomach dropping.

“That’s a Bugatti.” She turned toward me with wide eyes, practically vibrating with excitement. “Do you know how much that car costs?”

I shook my head, my palms going clammy. “Expensive?”

“Like… ‘I could buy your entire apartment building,’ expensive.” She spun me toward the mirror. “Go. Don’t overthink. Don’t make him wait.”

I hesitated, Sister Nora’s voice echoing in my memory: Stay away from charming men with easy smiles. They only bring heartbreak.

But then, like a devil on the other shoulder, was the thought of Draco’s green eyes and how his voice had lingered when he said my name.

Claire shoved my purse into my hands. “You’re going, end of story.”

I took a breath, squared my shoulders, and stepped outside.

Draco was leaning against the car, sleek sunglasses perched on his nose. When he saw me, he straightened and tugged the glasses off. For a heartbeat, he just stared. His jaw flexed like he was holding something back, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“Godde—” He cleared his throat quickly. “I mean, you look like a goddess, Loriah.”

Heat shot to my cheeks. Before I could respond, he stepped forward, close enough that I caught the faint scent of his cologne—something warm, expensive, and intoxicating. He kissed my cheek softly, lingering just long enough to inhale. The strange, almost hungry way he did it sent me shivers.

He opened the door, steadying me with one hand as I slid into the buttery leather seat. His fingers brushed my arm when he leaned in to buckle the seatbelt for me, his touch sparking warmth across my skin. Then, with a slight smirk, he shut the door and rounded the hood, slipping behind the wheel like he’d done it a thousand times.

The car purred to life, smooth and powerful, and soon the streets blurred around us.

I fiddled with the hem of my dress, nerves clawing at my stomach. “Draco… I didn’t know you had this much money. I don’t think—”

He cut me off, his voice gentle but firm. “Don’t worry, baby girl. I borrowed it. Just wanted our first date to feel… special.” He glanced at me, a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re worth that, and more.”

The words melted me, but a small alarm rang in the back of my mind. Borrowed? From who? Why? But my questions tangled and died on my tongue when his gaze lingered on me, hot and unyielding.

Instead, I asked softly, “So… what’s your name? Your full name?”

He chuckled, like the question amused him. “Draco. Draco Thomas.”

It sounded so ordinary, so normal. Nothing about him felt ordinary, though. The car, the attention, the roses that mysteriously appeared on my desk every morning.

But here I was, sitting beside him anyway.

Here goes nothing, I thought. Today, I’d find out who Draco really was—if he was the dangerous kind Sister Nora warned me about, or the kind I’d give my heart to.