First Paycheck

Axel

Did she just say… how much?

I blinked, almost certain I’d misheard. But no, the stunning woman standing before me had indeed just looked me dead in the eyes and asked how much I charged.

A slow smirk spread across my lips. “Do you think you can afford me, sweetheart?”

She giggled softly, and I could tell she’d had far too much to drink. Still, unlike most women I’d met in clubs, she wasn’t throwing herself at me.

She stood there, chin high, eyes bright and filled with confidence and mischief that was… interesting.

I’d noticed her earlier on the dance floor. She wasn’t just dancing; she was feeling the music, free, alive, lost in her own world.

And that dress… hell, that red dress was a crime in itself, hugging her every perfect curve. Those heels only made it worse, showing off her long, toned legs that could make one's imagination run wild.

She winked at me, leaning slightly closer.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said teasingly. “But I wouldn’t mind spending my life savings in one night on a Greek god like you.”

From the corner of my eye, I saw Derek, my right-hand man, step forward, ready to escort her away. I raised my hand subtly to stop him.

He gave me a questioning look but nodded and retreated.

I wasn’t sure why I stopped him, but there was just something about her that pulled me in. And the funniest part? She thought I was a gigolo.

Me — Axel Reynolds, billionaire and CEO of Reynolds Enterprises — mistaken for a gigolo? The universe must be playing one of its jokes tonight, but I still welcomed the distraction.

The beautiful woman before me tapped her heel impatiently. “If you’re not interested, I’ll just go find someone just as handsome as you are.”

As she turned to leave, my hand shot out as my fingers wrapped around her wrist. Just the mere thought of her walking into another man’s arms stirred up a strange kind of jealousy I didn't expect.

She had willingly walked into my den and now wanted to leave just like that? Definitely not going to happen.

“I didn’t say I wasn’t interested,” I said.

Her teasing smile returned as she slipped her hand into mine… it felt unexpectedly soft and warm. Without another word, she led me out of the club.

Outside, the night air was cool. She shivered slightly, wrapping her arms around herself. I noticed the way her lips trembled, the way her eyes darted around as she muttered to herself, “Now where is that damn car?”

Without thinking, I took off my coat and draped it around her shoulders. She looked up, slightly startled, and as she did, her lips brushed lightly against mine.

The air suddenly stilled.

Her breath hitched, and those soft lips parted slightly as she slowly licked them. My pulse kicked up, and a low growl rumbled in my chest before I could stop it.

God, was she doing that on purpose? The tip of her pink tongue gliding over those lips made my mind go blank. The more I looked into those wide, innocent looking eyes, the more I was certain of one thing… I wanted her.

Without another word, I grabbed her hand again and led her back inside the club, straight to the private VIP suite upstairs.

The door shut behind us, and instantly, our lips crashed together in a fierce, hungry kiss.

It was fire. Pure, consuming fire.

She tasted intoxicating… like whiskey and sin. The kiss was hungry, desperate, like we were trying to drink each other in. My hands found her waist, pulling her closer, and she melted into me.

She suddenly pulled back, her breathing ragged. “Do you have protection?”

I stepped to the side drawer, grabbed one, and turned, only to see her sprawled across the bed, watching me with that same teasing, seductive look that had started all this.

I tore the foil open and paused beside her. “Are you sure about this, sweetheart?” I asked. “I wouldn't want any sort of drama in the morning.”

She smiled lazily, leaning forward until her lips brushed my ear. “Then stop talking and show me why you’re worth every penny.”

And then, she pulled me down into another kiss.

That was all it took.

***

Morning came too soon.

I stirred when the sunlight hit my face, blinking my eyes open. The room smelled faintly of perfume and wild rounds of sex.

I turned and saw her curled up beside me, sleeping peacefully. The wild, fiery woman from last night now looked like an innocent angel.

Her hair was fanned out across the pillow, her lips slightly parted, her breathing soft and steady. I found myself staring longer than I should’ve.

Who was she?

It was insane how much she’d captured my attention in just one night. Hell, I didn’t even know her name.

A dangerous thought suddenly crossed my mind — what if she’d been sent by one of my business rivals? It wouldn’t be the first time someone tried to get close to me for the wrong reasons.

I reached out to brush a strand of hair from her face, but the moment my fingers touched her, she stirred.

I shut my eyes, pretending to be asleep. I wanted to see what she’d do when she woke.

A few seconds passed before I heard her gasp softly.

“Oh my God,” she whispered to herself. “Olivia! What the hell did you do last night?”

Olivia.

So that was her name.

I listened as she scrambled out of bed, muttering under her breath. “You slept with a gigolo… a really hot one, but still a gigolo. God, you’re so hopeless!”

I nearly burst out laughing but managed to control myself.

She paced around, searching for her clothes, grumbling to herself. “He’s probably used to this. God, Olivia, you need to stop drinking…”

I cracked one eye open slightly.

She was adorable.

Once she’d gathered her things, she tiptoed toward the door, clearly trying not to wake me.

The door clicked softly as she slipped out.

Slowly, I opened my eyes fully and chuckled, shaking my head. “She’s something else,” I murmured, standing up.

As I reached for my shirt, I noticed a small pile of crumpled dollar bills on the table counter.

I stared at it for a second… then burst out laughing.

She really thought I was a gigolo. And to top it all off… she’d actually paid me.

“Well,” I murmured, smiling to myself, “looks like I just earned my first salary as a gigolo.”

I turned the bills over in my hand, the faint scent of her perfume still clinging to them.

“Olivia,” I whispered softly, her name tasting oddly familiar on my tongue.