CHAPTER 2: THE HUNT BEGINS
1513 Words
There it was.
The Crescent.
The biggest and most exclusive club in the Gold District.
The place practically screamed money.
Its massive glass entrance was surrounded by expensive cars, sharply dressed men, women in designer outfits, and enough security to make it look more like a private bank than a nightclub.
Sam pressed her face closer to the window.
“Damn. It’s even bigger and fancier than they described.”
Stacy smirked.
“Told you the thirty-minute drive was going to be worth it. Now just wait till we get inside.”
She reached into her purse and pulled out three VIP tickets.
Amara's eyes widened.
“Wait…”
She grabbed Stacy's arm.
“Are those VIP tickets?”
Stacy proudly held them up.
“Mm-hmm.”
“Stacyyyyy!”
Amara practically squealed.
“I didn't know we were going VIP! Ughhh, you're the best!”
She threw her arms around Stacy, nearly choking her.
“Okay! Okay! Get off me!” Stacy laughed, trying to push her away.
Sam burst out laughing from the passenger seat.
“You two are embarrassing.”
“You're just jealous,” Amara said, finally letting go.
“Very.”
Stacy rolled her eyes.
She had pressured her old fling into getting the tickets for them after he told her about the club.
That was, of course, before he chose his wife.
The memory made her roll her eyes.
Whatever.
Tonight was about finding a replacement.
And judging by the cars parked outside The Crescent, she had a feeling it wouldn't be difficult.
“Come on,” Stacy said, opening her door. “I have a feeling tonights gonna be interesting.”
Amara stepped out of the car and adjusted her dress.
“Please. Let's just hope your replacement has more money than the last one.”
“I'm not asking for much.”
Sam raised an eyebrow.
“You literally rejected a man last week because his car wasn't the newest model.”
“It was ugly.”
“It was a Mercedes.”
“Exactly. Ugly.”
Sam stared at her.
“You're impossible.”
“I know.”
Amara smiled proudly.
The three girls headed toward the entrance.
They barely made it past the first set of security before one of the bouncers stopped Amara.
“ID, please.”
Amara stared at him.
Then at the massive VIP ticket in her hand.
Then back at him.
She sighed and pulled out her ID.
“Seriously? Do I look twelve?”
The bouncer glanced at her face.
He didn't answer.
Amara snatched her ID back.
“Rude.”
Sam covered her mouth, trying not to laugh.
“You're the one who said your cute face was useful.”
“It is useful.”
“Clearly not tonight.”
Amara rolled her eyes.
“Let's just go.”
They were immediately ushered into the VIP section.
The atmosphere changed the moment they stepped inside.
The club was loud, crowded, and alive.
Music shook through the walls while colorful lights swept across the dance floor. People laughed, danced, drank, and disappeared into dark corners where privacy was apparently worth a fortune.
The regular section was filled with wealthy people looking for a good time.
The VIP section?
That was where the truly rich came to make sure nobody important saw them having one.
Men who looked perfectly respectable during the day were now drinking excessively, surrounded by women in barely-there outfits, acting as though money had somehow exempted them from common sense.
The Crescent wasn't just a club.
It was a place where Bellmont's wealthiest people could forget their reputations for a few hours.
And the girls knew exactly how to play the game.
Almost immediately, drinks began appearing in their hands.
One after another.
Some came from bartenders.
Others were sent by men across the room.
A glass would arrive.
A quick glance would follow.
Sometimes a smile.
Sometimes a nod.
Sometimes nothing at all.
The girls sat together at a section of the bar, sipping their drinks and watching.
They weren't there to drink.
Not really.
They were bait.
And sooner or later, some fish always took the hook.
Sam leaned closer to Amara.
“That guy has been staring at you for like five minutes.”
Amara didn't even look.
“Which one?”
“The one in the gray suit.”
“The one with the bald spot?”
Sam nodded.
Amara took another sip.
“Absolutely not.”
Stacy laughed.
“You didn't even look at him!”
“I saw enough.”
“You're actually insane.”
“I have standards.”
Sam glanced toward the man again.
“He looks rich.”
“So does a bank.”
Stacy nearly choked on her drink.
“Girl!”
“What?” Amara asked innocently.
Sam shook her head.
“Sometimes I genuinely wonder what happened to you.”
“Nothing happened to me.”
Amara smiled.
“I just know what I want.”
And she did.
Money.
Beauty.
Luxury.
A life where she never had to worry about bills or working herself into exhaustion.
That was the dream.
Love could wait.
Eventually, both Sam and Stacy found men they considered worthy of their attention.
After a considerable amount of searching, judging, whispering, and one particularly brutal rejection from Stacy, they disappeared into the crowd with their respective catches.
Amara was left alone.
She didn't mind.
This was normal for them.
And if she wanted to leave, she could.
She actually had more admirers than either of them.
Sixteen, to be exact.
Sixteen men had already tried to get her attention.
She'd rejected every single one.
Some were too boring.
Some weren't attractive enough.
And some simply didn't have enough money to make them worth her time.
Amara loved money.
But there was something she loved almost as much.
Her trophies.
The men she chose said something about her.
And she wasn't about to walk around with an average-looking trophy.
She was too pretty for that.
“Your eyes are really beautiful.”
Amara blinked.
She'd almost forgotten the man sitting beside her.
He looked to be in his early forties.
Not bad-looking.
Not good-looking either.
Average.
“I know.”
Her response was absent-minded as she continued swirling her drink.
The man laughed awkwardly.
“You're confident.”
Amara finally turned to look at him properly.
He actually looked rich.
Very rich.
His watch alone probably cost more than her apartment.
His shoes were expensive.
His suit was perfectly tailored.
Even the way he spoke screamed money.
Amara mentally assessed him.
Maybe as rich as admirer number two.
Possibly even richer.
Not bad.
She took another sip.
If nobody better showed up soon, she might let this one take her home.
After all, her friends had already caught their fish.
“Hey.”
She ignored him.
“Hey, are you listening?”
Amara finally looked at him.
He smiled.
“You don't have to be shy, princess.”
There it was.
The confidence.
The moment she gave a man the smallest hint that he was affecting her, they became putty in her hands.
She lowered her eyes and gave him a small, shy smile.
The man's confidence immediately returned.
“I'll take care of you.”
Amara smiled sweetly.
Inside, she was laughing.
Men are so easy.
She took another sip of her drink.
Then something caught her attention.
The VIP doors opened.
Two men stepped inside.
Both were dressed in suits that looked expensive enough to pay someone's rent for several years.
They weren't loud.
They weren't trying to attract attention.
They didn't need to.
Something about them made people move aside as they walked through the room.
Amara's eyes followed them.
She couldn't make out their faces clearly beneath the dim lighting.
But she could see enough.
One of them was wearing a black suit and the other a grey One.
The other carried himself with a quiet confidence that made him stand out even without trying.
They walked toward one of the private booths.
Amara's attention shifted completely.
The man beside her was forgotten.
She narrowed her eyes, trying to get a better look.
“Interesting…”
The man beside her frowned.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
Amara didn't take her eyes off the two strangers.
The one in a Black suit said something that made the other Nod.
Then they reached the booth.
One of them sat down.
The other turned slightly.
And for just a second—
the lights shifted.
Amara finally saw his face.
Their eyes met.
Everything around her seemed to disappear for a heartbeat.
The music.
The laughter.
The people.
Even the man sitting beside her.
Gone.
Those eyes were fixed directly on hers.
Dark.
Calm.
Intense.
Amara slowly lowered her glass.
For the first time that night, someone had piqued her Interest.
She was thinking about one thing.
Who the hell is that?
And across the room, the stranger continued looking at her.
Neither of them looked away.
Not yet.
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