CHAPTER 1

It was February 14th and The Grand Ballroom of The Valentino Grand Hotel was decorated with red and white ribbons and balloons floating in the air. The room looked like a sea of crimson and gold, a cathedral of wealth built to honor the day. Of course! It’s Valentine’s Day… the very day Julian Valentino loathed with every fiber of his being.

But to the elites of Manhattan and the hotel's stake holders,it was a night of pure romance, while to Julian, it was a reminder of a betrayal that had turned his heart into ice. 

Julian was sat in a corner with his best friend, Damian. "You’re still looking like a carved stone on a day like this?, this is a day meant for celebration crying out loud man.” Damian remarked, leaning against the velvet curtain. He held two glass of wine "Smile, Julian. Smile… You’re the man of the hour. Don't look like a statue." He said through gritted teeth.

Julian adjusted his cufflinks, his expression cold. "I’m the man of the company, Damian. The hour is actually irrelevant."

"Always business," Damian chuckled. "everyone knows you’re the man of the company. So cheers to that." Clicking his glass against Julian's. "Drink up. It’s a 1945 Romanée-Conti. Even a saint still needs a vice at this time.”

Julian took the glass, eyes scanning the crowd through the curtain gap. "To five years of the Valentino International."

"And also, five years of being the most unreachable man in New York City," Damian added, clinking his glass against Julian’s. “Proud of you man.”

Julian drained the wine down his throat in a single gulp. He was about saying something when the announcer’s voice boomed through the loud speakers.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let’s welcome the number one business tycoon in the United Kingdom, the CEO of Valentino International... Mr. Julian Valentino!"

The applause that followed next was loud and cheering.

“It’s time.” Damian said dropping his glass of wine as they both stood heading for the stage.

Julian stepped into the stage light, his black tuxedo absorbing the flash of numerous cameras. He reached the podium, and his deep voice, he began;

“Five years ago, I stood on a patch of dirt and promised y’all a vision. Most of you called it an impossible dream, you said a man couldn't build an empire this fast without cutting through the corners. Forgetting that in this city, determination is all that matters." 

He paused, a smirk playing across his lips. 

"But look around you today, The Valentino's empire isn't just a proof of hardwork, it's a testament to what happens when you treat your emotions as a liability. In this city, Love is a distraction, and at the Valentino international, we don't believe in luck, we prioritize discipline, integrity over..." 

He stopped half way through the sentence as a sharp electric pulse shot up his spine. The podium suddenly felt hot… no, his whole body was turning hot. A drop of sweat broke at his hairline.

"Julian?" Damian whispered urgently from the side of the stage.

Julian gripped the microphone hard until his knuckles turned white. "We... we prioritize integrity over..."

The faces in the crowd began to blur into red and white. His heart wasn't beating at the normal anymore… it was thundering, a frantic rhythm that made his lungs suddenly feel too small. At first, he thought it was the Valentine's Day trauma… the ghost of his ex- fiancée betrayal coming to humiliate him one more time.

Beneath his shirt, his skin felt like it was being electrocuted by a live wire.

"Is he okay?" a voice whispered from the front row.

Then the voices began whispering.

“What’s going on?

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Somebody help him.”

“This is strange.”

Damian rushed to his side to hold him by his shoulder. “Julian what’s wrong you?”

“I… I need to go out.” He stammered.

He looked at the audience one more time, using all his strength to say one final word,

"Excuse me," Julian choked out. He didn't wait after that. He turned and strode off the stage with heavy steps. The Holy Billionaire was practically running while Damian ran after him.

He made it to the private elevator, his breath coming in jagged, with desperate gasps.

Damian stepped in just as the doors clicked shut.

"Julian, talk to me. You're shaking,… and you look pale.” Damian said, his voice laced with concern.

"The wine..." Julian rasped, slamming his hand against the elevator wall. "What... what was in it? I’m burning, Damian. My blood is on fire."

He yelled.

Finally, they got to the hotel’s private suite and Julian stumbled out, collapsing against the edge of his glass desk.

"I need a doctor, NOW!" Julian groaned, tearing at his tie away and ruining his shirt buttons. His pupils were so dilated that his eyes looked like black pits. He fell to his knees, a guttural groan echoing through the room. 

"Wait... no doctor," Julian gasped, his hand clutching his groin in agony. The drug was peaking, a possessive, clawing hunger. "I need... I need to let this out."

Damian froze. "What are you saying?" 

“Get me a girl.Now!” 

“A girl? What do you need that for?” Damian asked looking confused. 

“To help with this!” Julian cried out in pain. Squeezing his pants.

Damian eyes opened in shock "What? Julian, your vow... You’re the Holy Saint of the boardroom," Damian reminded him, pacing the room.

"To hell with the vow!" Julian roared, lunging forward to grab Damian’s collar, his skin radiated heat like a furnace. "I’m losing my mind! Damian. Get someone here. Anyone. I don't care about the price. Pay whatever it takes. Triple it. Just get me a woman in this room before I tear my own skin off!"

Without a word, Damian pulled out his phone. His thumb hovering over his contact list, then stopped at: TEE.

"I know just one girl, but she doesn’t work on Valentine's." 

"I don't care!" Julian screamed, collapsing onto the floor "please... get her here." 

Damian stood over him, his phone already in his hand, he stepped toward the window and hit the call button and waited and prayed for her to pick up. It rang once. Twice. Three times. And on the fourth ring, a voice picked up.

"Damian," Thalia’s voice crackled through the speaker. "I told you yesterday. My phone is off and I’m off the radar for today. Unless the city is burning down, you shouldn’t call me."

"The city is fine, Tee," Damian said, glancing back at the shivering billionaire friend on the floor. "But a very high-profile friend of mine is currently in need of your service... he’s in a bad condition right now.”

"Not my problem," Thalia snapped. "I don’t do charity work for junkies, no matter who they are and you know that.”

Damian chuckled. “And who said you’re working for free? Come on Tee, he’s going to pay you better than me.”

“I don’t care Damian… I’ve just 30mintues to spare. Infact just find someone else.”

"Ten thousand," Damian said firmly.

“Ten thousand for?” Thalia asked sharply.

“Ten thousand dollar for your service. 30 mintues for 10 thousand dollar. You walk in, get him out of his misery, and walk out with a bag that’s fully loaded. How about that?" Damian asked with a smirk.

A long silence stepped in.

"Ten thousand? Who is this guy, Damian? Is he a king or a criminal?"

"He’s a man who has more money than time. You in?"

"For ten thousand? I’m already putting on my shoes. Just make sure to tell him I’m not staying a second more than that.”

“I promise you. Please be here in a jiffy.”

The line went dead.

Few minutes later, the address was sent to her.

The Big Girls Lounge

Across town, stood the most busiest place to be in the city. A factory made of the most beautiful women… a place where women were transformed into goddesses just for the city’s elite.

Thalia was sat at her dressing table, staring at her reflection looking all tired, but the moment she picked up her contour brush, the exhaustion vanished immediately, leaving her with her new fully baked face.

"I thought you were taking the night off to look at those old hospital records," a voice chirped.

Gigi leaned against the doorframe, her own golden dress shimmering under the lights. She was holding a glass of cheap cider, the only thing they could afford to drink while the clients got the vintage stuff.

"The records aren't going anywhere, Gigi," Thalia said, her voice steady as she applied a layer of red lipstick. "But a ten thousand dollars for thirty minutes? That’s the deal."

"Ten thousand?" Gigi’s eyes widened. "Who’s the whale? A Senator? A Saudi Prince?”

"Damian’s friend," Thalia whispered, leaning in to check her eyeliner.

Gigi nearly dropped her glass. "Wow… he must be stinky rich to pay that much for a 30mintues session.”

“ I guess so," Thalia said, she stood up, and shrugged into her silk trench coat. Underneath, the red dress hugged her curves like a second skin, dangerously short and unapologetically bold.

Gigi walked over with a smile. She reached out and helped her smooth her hair. "Be careful, Tee," Gigi said. "Guess it’s that time of the day again, where the other girls would have their eye’s almost bugging out.” She laughed.

Picking her mini purse, “they can stare all they wants. I’m going in for the bag, Gigi. And In thirty minutes, I’ll be back here, and a ten thousand richer.”

Thalia pulled her hair over her shoulder, masking the tattoo birthmark on her neck. She stepped out majestically out of the lounge, commanding the air as usual as she walked into the cold New York night. Then she spotted a taxi coming her way, she hailed for it to stop and got in the moment the taxi driver was parked in her front.

“Valentino's Grand Hotel.”