Yours For A Price

Chapter 3

Slut Delivery

Bella's POV:

I should’ve felt ashamed, sitting in Lani's office at the hotel that didn’t advertise its second floor for what it really was. But shame left me the moment I buried my father. Along with my savings, my childhood, and any last bit of naivety I had about how the world works.

The place looked classy – gold trim on the molding, sleek marble floors, soft jazz piping in through hidden speakers. But I knew better. This wasn’t just a hotel. This was “Slut Delivery”, the whispered nickname that only those in the know ever used. My best friend, Lani, ran it. Officially, she was the general manager of the establishment. Unofficially, she was the boss b***h of the best escort ring on this side of the city.

And I was here to apply.

Rent was due in four days. And I have to fix the door that bastard Rico destroyed the other day.

Jackson, my baby brother, had outgrown his sneakers and needed a new backpack before school started next week.

And there was still the matter of the debt. My father’s unpaid sins are now glued to my name. The local loan shark, Rico - had made it clear at the funeral that sympathy didn’t extend to the dead.

“You’re not your father,” he’d said, running a finger along my arm. “But you can pay like he did. In your own way.”

I was already suffocating before the dirt hit the coffin.

“Bells?” Lani’s voice snapped me back to the moment.

“Hey,” I stood, nerves making me a little breathless. “Thanks for seeing me. I know you’re busy….”

“Cut the crap,” she said. “You could call me in the middle of a client’s c****x and I’d still answer, plus we haven't seen or spoken to each other in a very long time. What’s going on?”

I hesitated. My voice caught in my throat.

Lani pulled back, frowning. “Talk to me.”

“I want in.”

She blinked. “In what?”

“In this. The business.” I forced the words out before I lost the nerve. “I want to work for you. Be one of your… girls.”

Her face didn’t move. Didn’t change. But the air between us shifted.

“No,” she said simply.

I blinked. “No?”

“No.” She stepped back, arms folding tightly across her chest. “Absolutely not.”

“Lani….”

“I’m not discussing it.”

“You don’t even know my reasons.”

“You don’t have to say them. I can see it all over your face. You’re desperate. And scared. And drowning in the debt your father owed. But no, Bella. Not you. Anyone but you.”

The words stung more than I expected. My voice got sharp before I could control it.

“You think I’m too soft?”

“I think you’re not dead inside,” she snapped. “You still feel. You cry in animal movies and believe people change. My girls don’t get to feel. We perform. We fake. We survive.”

“I’m trying to survive too.”

“Not like this.”

I turned away, swallowing the lump in my throat. My eyes burned.

“You know I wouldn’t be here unless I was out of options.”

Lani sighed behind me. I could feel the war happening in her – boss vs. best friend. I hated that I made her choose.

Finally, she said, “I’m not going to let you sell pieces of your soul, Bella. Not to men who’ll forget your name the minute they zip up.”

I stared down at my scraped-up heels, whispering, “I was willing.”

“Then be willing to do something less permanent.” She touched my arm, voice softening. “Come out with me tonight. There’s a new place opening in the West Side. Exclusive crowd, high rollers. Just dance. Drink. Feel like yourself again.”

I hesitated.

“Please,” she added. “No one’s paying to touch you. You’re not on the clock. Just one night to breathe.”

I almost said no.

But something in me, maybe the part that still believed in magic whispered “Why not?”.

“What’s the dress code?” I asked.

She grinned. “Slut chic.”

***********

That night, I stared at myself in Lani’s mirror and almost didn’t recognize the girl I saw.

Short silver dress. Hair slicked back. Lips like blood.

I looked confident.

I felt like a fraud.

But maybe that was the point.

Downstairs, Lani waited in a car with tinted windows and champagne already poured. She looked at me and let out a low whistle.

“Damn, B. You clean up filthy.”

I smirked. “Let’s go slut it up.”

She raised her glass. “To no regrets.”

I clinked mine against hers. To new mistakes, I thought.

And then we pulled into the city’s neon mouth, toward the music, toward the madness….

Toward the man who would change everything.

The city swallowed us whole. Neon lights bled into the windows, painting my skin in electric pinks and blues, as though the night itself wanted to tattoo me with its sins and desires. The bass from some club we hadn’t even entered yet pulsed through the streets, rattling in my bones like a second heartbeat.

Lani leaned out the window to blow a kiss at a group of men stumbling out of a strip of bars. They howled back at her, drunk and hungry. She thrived on the attention. Me? I was just trying not to think about what tomorrow would look like.

“Where are we going again?” I asked, though my voice was more a murmur than a real question.

“Club Obsidian,” she said, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Rich men. Dangerous men. The kind who like their toys shiny and desperate.”

“Perfect,” I muttered, draining the last of my champagne.

By the time the car rolled to a stop, the street outside was a fever dream – lines of bodies pressed close, laughter slashed with screams of delight, and a velvet rope guarded by bouncers who looked like they ate steel for breakfast.

Lani grabbed my hand, tugging me into the chaos. “Head up, t**s out, and for God’s sake, don’t look cheap.”

I laughed, nerves sparking under my skin as we pushed past the line and slipped inside.

The club was alive. Smoke curled like ghosts under the strobe lights. The scent of expensive cologne and spilled whiskey clung to the air. Every corner throbbed with power and money, like the walls themselves were pulsing with secrets.