Chapter 3

Conrad's POV

"I want my lawyer! Do you hear me? My. Fucking. Lawyer!" My voice bounces off the concrete walls of the holding cell, but the officer standing guard outside doesn't even flinch.

He just sits there behind the desk, chewing his gum like I'm background noise, just another day for him.

The fluorescent lights above flicker faintly, the tang of paper filling the air. Fuck, this is bad for me.

The billionaire's son in a holding cell. My reputation is ruined enough as it is.

"I said I want to make a damn call!" I slam my hand against the metal bars.

"Sit your rich ass down, Mr Beaumont," the officer drawls without even looking up from his paperwork. "You'll get your call when we're ready."

When they're ready? Is he out of his fucking mind?

I let out a bitter laugh. "When you're ready? You've just arrested the son of Andrew Beaumont, and you think you can just sit there..."

"Yeah, yeah," he interrupts. "You people always think your daddy's name can buy you out of anything. Unfortunately, we have a protocol here. I don't really care who you are. I'm trying to treat you with the utmost respect, but you're acting like a spoiled brat."

I freeze mid-pace. The jab lands harder than I expect. My jaw clenches, and I force myself to breathe. Not here. Not now.

Just pretend you didn't get put in your place by a middle-class prick who doesn't understand how much this cell is messing with me.

I'm not supposed to be in this kind of mess. I came to that club for one night; to forget, to disappear, to not think about the stacks of documents in the office. This was my first time trying this. A few hours of distraction. And now I'm sitting in a fucking holding cell.

The universe has a twisted sense of humor. I must have offended someone in my past life or some shit.

The door to the main corridor bangs open, and a guard saunters in, mutters something to the officer, then nods toward the cell. "Got another one for you."

I turn, annoyed. Now what?

Suddenly, I freeze as my cell door creaks open.

She stumbles in as the officer gives her a rough push, the faint jingle of her handcuffs cutting through the air. Her angel mask is gone and her perfect hair is messy.

The stripper.

"Hey!" I bark, stepping forward instinctively. "Don't shove her like that!"

Why did he shove her that hard? Seriously? No respect for women either?

She stumbles, catches herself on the rail, and glares at me like I'm the one who pushed her. "Don't," she snaps, her voice low and venomous when I try to touch her. "Don't talk to me. Don't come near me."

Oh.

I blink, confusion clouding my expression. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm just... are you okay?"

She backs away, pressing herself against the far corner of the cell.

The harsh lights illuminate her features, and I stare at her. She's really pretty, and very much familiar. Older, with sharper features, but still familiar.

That's when it hits me.

"Diane?" I gasp.

Her eyes flick toward me for half a second before she scoffs and turns her head away.

Holy shit.

"Diane?" I say again, half hoping I'm wrong, half praying I'm not.

No way.

She doesn't answer, just folds her arms and glares at the wall. "You trying to summon me or something?" she finally mutters under her breath.

"Unbelievable," I mutter, dragging a hand down my face. "You were... You worked for me."

"Years ago," she says flatly, turning to me with a glare. "Before you fired me."

I take a step back, disbelief cutting across my features. She really is the one.

She got into a scandal regarding my stocks at the office, and I fired her without listening to her pleas. I needed the perfect staff, not someone accused of random things in the company. And now? No way. I slept with an ex-employee.

Fuck, what is wrong with me?

"You... you knew I was the one and you still went ahead and slept with me. You knew what you were doing!" I hiss at her, my voice cracking.

"Right. Whatever helps you sleep at night, sir." She rolls her eyes.

I want to say something back, something biting, but before I can, the guard's voice cuts through the air, silencing us.

"Beaumont. Lawyer's here."

Finally.

A man in an expensive suit appears behind the bars, flanked by two other attorneys carrying files.

"Mr. Beaumont," he greets me curtly, then glances at Diane with a flicker of curiosity, probably wondering who the woman is and why she's glaring at him. "We're working on your release. The police raided the club because of an anonymous tip. Something about a cartel meeting and a potential drug exchange. You were just... caught in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Ironic.

"Just great."

"What were you even doing in a club like that? Your father..."

"Don't even," I cut him off. "How does it look right now?"

"Bad."

"Fantastic," I mutter, rubbing my temples. "Just what I need on tonight's headlines."

Diane scoffs softly from her corner. "Must be nice. Having a whole team of suits ready to clean up your mess."

I turn my head, eyes narrowing. "Excuse me?"

"Nothing," she says, but her tone is laced with bitterness. "Just saying some people have luck, others have... consequences."

I bite back a retort, watching as my lawyer turns back to the officer and starts negotiating my bail. The officer nods to his table at the other end, and they go off to discuss and sign papers while I pace, trying to wrap my head around all this.

Within minutes, the officer comes back and unlocks the door with a sigh. "You're free to go, Mr. Beaumont."

I don't move for a second. My gaze flicks to Diane, who's fidgeting with her nails and staring at the wall. "And her?"

The officer snorts, shaking his head. "No bail. No lawyer. She stays until morning at least. Club's under federal investigation."

"What? She didn't do anything. She works there."

He shrugs. "Not my problem."

I turn to my lawyer. "Get her out too."

"Sir," the man starts carefully, "that may not be advisable..."

"Do it," I snap. "Now."

He hesitates, but one look at my face is enough.

I'm not leaving her there. Not like that.

An hour later, after signatures, fees, and more legal bullshit than I care to listen to, the officer finally comes back, keys in hand, and opens the cell again. "You're free to go," he says, looking at Diane like she's an inconvenience.

She steps out of the cell, confusion flickering across her features when she sees me waiting outside.

"Why... are you still here?" she asks warily, her expression tired.

"Because I wasn't going to leave you behind," I say simply.

A slow scoff escapes her. "Please, I didn't need your help. I didn't ask you for it."

Stubborn.

"You didn't have to," I say, starting toward the exit. "Come on. You're out now."

She follows reluctantly, silent as I lead her out to where my car is waiting.

"I'll drive you home."

Her expression doesn't falter. "No."

Understandable. I probably ruined her life years ago. Must be why she isn't keen on me.

I turn to her, reaching into my coat pocket and pulling out a thick envelope. "Here. Take it."

She looks at it like it's poison. "What's that supposed to be?"

"Compensation. For the night. For the mess. For whatever the hell that was back there. You'll get your main money as promised."

Her eyes meet mine, and I can see the fire blazing in them. "I don't want your money."

I exhale, the muscle in my jaw twitching in irritation. "Fine. Then consider it something else."

"What?" She crosses her arms.

"A reminder that you owe me for helping you out tonight."

Her brows knit. "I don't owe you shit."

I press the envelope into her hand and smile. "You'll see soon enough. Take care of yourself, Miss Hall. I feel like we'll be seeing each other very soon."

With a final mock bow, I get into my car and zoom off.