Chapter 1 - Friday Night

Los Angeles

“Aria! Table six has been waiting ten minutes! Are you asleep?”

The voice cracked like a whip across the noisy bar. Mona, the manager, glared at her from behind the counter, arms crossed.

“I’m on it,” Aria called back, forcing her voice to stay even. She balanced the tray on her aching arm and wove through the crowd, flashing her best fake smile.

She placed the cocktails on the sticky table with a soft, “Sorry for the wait.”

The man didn’t look up from his phone. The woman with him rolled her eyes. “Finally. What were you doing, sleeping in the back?”

Aria swallowed hard, biting back the words clawing at her throat. Smile, Aria. Always smile. “Enjoy your drinks,” she murmured and left.

As she headed toward the bar, Jenny, her only friend on the night shift, joined her with two empty glasses in hand.

“You okay? You look like you’re ready to drop.”

Aria laughed without humor. “I’ve been ready to drop since last week.”

Jenny smirked. “Girl, you need a new job. This place will kill you before the rent does.”

Aria gave her a wry smile. “Tell that to my lovely foster family. If I quit, who’s going to keep sending them money?”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “Seriously? They’re still bleeding you dry?”

“Yeah,” Aria sighed. “Apparently, feeding me at sixteen came with a lifetime contract.”

Jenny shook her head. “They’re using you. You know that, right?”

“Of course I know. But what choice do I have?” Aria muttered, brushing crumbs off her apron. “If I don’t pay up, they’ll kick my stuff out. Everything I own is in that house.”

Jenny was about to reply when the door opened and for a second, the bar seemed to hush.

He walked in.

Tall, broad-shouldered, wearing a suit that fit like sin. Dark hair slicked back, jaw sharp enough to cut glass, eyes that could burn through steel. He looked like a man who didn’t wait in lines... ever.

Jenny let out a low whistle. “Holy molly... who is that? Looks like he owns this place.”

“Probably owns the whole block,” Aria muttered, pretending not to stare.

Jenny nudged her. “You’re not blind, right? Look at him. He’s… damn.”

Aria chuckled softly, shaking her head. “Rich men like him don’t even see girls like us.”

“Wanna bet?” Jenny grinned.

Before Aria could respond, Mona appeared behind them, shoving a notepad into her hand. “VIP booth. He asked for service. Go.”

Aria blinked. “What? Why me?”

“Because you’re standing here, and I said so. Now move before he gets bored and leaves. We need customers like him.”

Heart hammering, Aria smoothed her hair and walked toward the corner booth. He was seated alone, phone in one hand, a glass of water untouched in front of him.

“Good evening,” she said softly, clearing her throat. “What can I get you?”

He looked up.

God. Those eyes. Dark, piercing, with something unreadable lurking in them. For a moment, he just stared and she felt stripped bare, like he could see every secret she carried.

Finally, his deep voice broke the silence. “Whiskey. Neat.”

She scribbled it down, forcing herself to stay calm. “Anything else?”

He tilted his head slightly. “Your name.”

The question caught her off guard. “My… name?”

“Yes,” he said, like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. “What do they call you?”

“Aria,” she answered after a pause.

“Aria,” he repeated slowly, like savoring the taste. “Pretty name.”

Heat crept up her neck, and she hated herself for it. “Thanks,” she murmured and fled to the counter.

Jenny was waiting with wide eyes. “Girl, what did he say? Does he have a brother?”

Aria rolled her eyes. “Just wanted whiskey.”

“And your name,” Jenny teased, smirking. “He’s definitely looking at you.”

“Stop it,” Aria hissed, though her heart wasn’t listening.

When she returned to the booth with the drink, he was still scrolling through his phone. She set the glass down carefully. “Here you go.”

His eyes flicked up again, pinning her in place. “Sit.”

Aria blinked. “I—I can’t. I’m working.”

“Just for a minute,” he said smoothly. “Consider it part of the tip.”

She hesitated. “If Mona sees—”

“I’ll take care of Mona.” His voice carried a quiet authority that made her stomach twist.

Against her better judgment, she slid into the booth—keeping a careful distance. “You, uh… come here often?” she asked awkwardly.

One corner of his mouth curved in something like amusement. “No.”

“Okay… so, what brings you here?”

“You.”

The word hung between them, heavy and electrifying. Aria’s breath caught. “You don’t even know me.”

“Not yet,” he said, voice low. “But I’d like to.”

Her pulse quickened. This was insane. Men like him didn’t notice girls like her not unless they wanted something.

As if reading her thoughts, he leaned in slightly, his cologne wrapping around her like smoke. “What do you need, Aria? Money? A way out of… this?” His gaze swept the bar, then returned to her.

She swallowed hard. “Why do you care?”

He smiled faintly. “Maybe I like giving people what they want.”

Before she could respond, Mona’s shrill voice cut across the room. “Aria! Back to work!”

She jumped to her feet, cheeks flaming. “I—I should go.”

“Wait,” he said calmly, pulling out a sleek black card and slipping it toward her. “Come to the Royalton. Tonight. Room 807.”

Aria stared at the card like it was a snake. “What… what are you asking?”

His eyes didn’t waver. “One night. No strings. You’ll be well compensated.”

Her heart stopped.

He slid out of the booth, towering over her, and buttoned his jacket. “Think about it.” And just like that, he walked away, leaving her rooted to the spot, clutching a card that suddenly felt heavier than gold.

Jenny appeared seconds later, whisper-screaming. “What the hell did he say?!”

Aria could barely breathe. Her world had just tilted on its axis.