CHAPTER 3: Hot Devil's Chauffeur

CHAPTER 3: Hot Devil's Chauffeur

Mia's Point Of View:

“You don’t have to say yes,” Rihanna added softly. “But if you walk out that door, your mother dies.”

The words landed like a blow. I stopped in my tracks. My vision blurred. I couldn’t tell if it was fear or shame burning behind my eyes.

The doctor's words rippled in my mind…. “We can't keep her in this condition anymore, I'm sorry. She needs the surgery, or….”

“Or what?”

“The deadline is a week,”.

I swallowed hard, closing my eyes as my nails dug into my palm so deep I could almost feel it rip.

I hated that I was still standing here. Hated that life had cornered me this far, that I even had to consider this.

Something I swore I’d never do was now flashing in my mind as a possible solution.

A possible solution? Who am I kidding? It was the only one.

I swear, I hated myself at that moment. The sound of Mom’s breathing machine filled my head again. The look in her eyes, that dry, helpless cough, haunted me.

My nails dug deeper into my palm.

Then came the flash, the black car, the hospital room. Mom’s shallow breaths blending with the steady beep of her machine until everything went quiet. Too quiet. Dark.

Deeper. My knuckles cracked.

Now, all I could hear was the ticking clock in our empty apartment. The knock of the landlord on the door I always locked, pretending I wasn’t home. And Rihanna’s manipulative smirk in my head.

Her words cut me out of my thoughts, “If you walk out that door, your mother die—”

I sucked in a sharp breath, my eyes snapping open. Before she could finish, I turned toward her.

“I’ll do it,” I said. I regretted almost immediately, not because I would do this, but because I had to.

Her eyes lit up. “Perfect. You know what’s good for you.”

She stepped closer, her hands landing on my shoulders like she was claiming me as a property. “I’ll arrange a one night stand with one of my best clients. Tonight. 10 PM sharp.”

My throat tightened, but before I could say a word, she cut in again.

“Oh, and—” her gaze swept down my body, “You can’t show up like this. You have so much potential under all….. that. You’ll need a new outfit. Something sexy. Light underwear too, light enough to be snatched off with canine.”

Her nose wrinkled slightly. “I can see the thick outline of the ones you’re wearing. Looks cheap.”

Her tone carried irritation, like she was speaking to a thing, not a person.

She turned, approaching the bed, already reaching for her phone. “You’ll go with my assistant, he’ll drive you. I’ll let him know you’re coming.”

The phone rang once before she pressed it to her ear.

“Hey, I’m sending one of the girls to you now,” she said.

One of the girls? One of? My mouth went dry.

“Drive her to a boutique. Let her pick anything she wants, sexy only, as usual. Make sure she returns any ugly shit. She has no taste.”

She looked at me from head to toe again, like she was checking what else to fix.

“I have another appointment. Take her, then bring her back. And get her a seductive deodorant, she doesn’t smell inviting enough.” She then nodded before taking the phone away from her ear, and tossing it on the bed.

She walked closer, her perfume cutting through the air between us before she brushed past me. I turned, my eyes following her to the door.

From her pocket, she pulled out a key card, tapped it on the card reader. It beeped almost immediately, before the lock cracked open.

She looked back at me without saying a word, not even a light smile, and tilted her head toward the door, like she was telling me to go make myself useful.

I walked closer to the door and pulled it open. Before I could take another step, she spoke.

“You'll meet him downstairs. He's brown skinned, with cornrows, taper fade, and ear piercing. You'll recognize him immediately with these details.”

I nodded and walked out. The elevator waited ahead. The door was elegant and polished, reflecting a version of me I barely recognized.

I still couldn’t wrap my head around the fact that I had agreed to sleep with a man, to sell my virginity, to trade my body for money. All because it was the only option left if I wanted my mother to live.

God, it hurt so much.

But again, it was the only option I had left.

I got outside the building quickly. Just like she said, I spotted him right away, standing beside a sleek black car.

My jaw almost dropped. Not because of him, though he was impossible to ignore, but because of the car itself. It was the same one from yesterday. The same one that had been haunting me.

Still, my eyes flicked to him. Brown skinned, tall, the kind of build that looked more like quiet strength than gym freaks. His cornrows were neat, taper fade sharp, and a small silver earring glinted on his ear.

Great. The devil’s chauffeur was hot.

He opened the door for me.

I got in, and he drove us to a boutique that looked so expensive I was half convinced they’d charge for breathing inside.

Trust me, I fucking kid you not.

I picked the clothes I wanted, but he kept switching each one to something more revealing.

In his thick british accent…. “This is sexier.”

It felt like he was dressing me for the beach, only titties covered, everything else barely mattered. I might as well have stayed naked, because at this point, that seemed to be the goal.

Even the thong. Bloody hell.

It looked like it could slice my pussy lips off if I dared to take three steps.

We spent longer than I’d ever expected, testing, changing, switching, and arguing over clothes.

By the time we were done, we didn’t even have the energy to argue over deodorant. I just let him pick whatever he wanted. Anything that wouldn’t make me smell like an ass crack.

It was already 9 PM when we left.

As soon as I got back to the hotel apartment, Rihanna greeted me with a smile that looked almost too wide.

“How was it?” she questioned, her voice sweet, but fake.

I groaned, collapsing onto the bed without caring about manners. “It was the worst. The clothes are uncomfortable, literally painful. I have to keep adjusting them just to be human. Why do they even exist?”

“Don’t worry,” she blurted out, her teasing tone evident in her voice. “They won’t be on you for long fanyway.”

I fought the urge to scoff at her.

“Your client will be here soon,” she continued. “My time in this hotel is almost up, but you’ll stay here, in another room your client booked. He already paid for the night, by the way.”

Then she tossed a small notebook on the bed. “Write down your bank details here for your ninety percent.”

My eyes widened in joy. For once, I felt a small relief that made everything feel worth it.

Rihanna checked her phone, smiled, and said, “He’s on his way. Start getting dressed.” My heart skipped.

This was really happening.

In a few hours, I’d no longer be the same Mia I was when I walked in.