A Night with Mr Bryan

Chapter 2: The Bargain

Mrs. Banks’ living room pressed in on me. I blinked several times, refusing to believe what I was hearing. Was this real? My mind wanted to deny it, to tell me it was a mistake, but the longer I stared at her cold eyes, the heavier the truth settled in my chest. My mother… accused of stealing?

Her eyes bored into me like I was a stain on her perfect floor. “Your mother,” Mrs. Banks said, her tone sharp and cold, “was caught red-handed with my necklace. A family heirloom.

My throat tightened. “That’s not true,” I whispered, then louder, my voice cracking. My mother has worked for your family for ten years without stealing a single pin. She ironed your clothes, polished your silver, cooked your meals-why would she suddenly steal your necklace?”

Mrs. Banks raised a brow, unbothered, sipping from her porcelain teacup. “Sentiment doesn’t erase evidence. She had it in her possession. That’s enough.”

My throat ached. I wanted to scream, to shake her until she admitted the lie, but the image of my mother in handcuffs silenced me. If Mrs Banks pointed at the sky and called it noon night, the world would agree with her. And my mother would still be guilty. Begging was the only language left. “Please. She’s innocent. Please, ma'am.”

Her lips pulled back, not quite a smile, more like a wolf showing its teeth. “If you want her released, you’d better speak to Naomi. She has… a solution.”

The way she said “solution” twisted my stomach.

I stumbled out of the mansion, half-blinded by tears, clutching my bag like it could hold me together. By the time I reached the hotel where Naomi had summoned me, my whole body felt numb.

*****

Naomi sat in her hotel suite, calm and unbothered, like she had always owned the world. I blinked, trying to steady myself, trying to process the impossibility of what she was asking. How could she demand this? My mind raced, every thought tangled in fear and disgust. My mother’s freedom… hanging by a thread. And I was the one who had to pay for it.

“I’m only doing this to save my mom,” I said, my voice shaking. “Don’t act like I’m doing you a favor, Naomi Banks. I’m not helping you. I’m helping my mother.”

“That’s your business,” she replied coolly, brushing imaginary dust off her thigh. “Whether your mother gets out or not doesn’t concern me. I just want the job done. My fiance is mine, Celina Williams. And you will make sure of it.”

Her words pressed down on me. Every instinct screamed to run. But the thought of my mother alone in a cell kept me still. My anger was useless against her leverage.

I clenched my fists at my sides, desperate not to cry. “Please, Naomi. There has to be another way. My mother didn’t..…”

“She was caught with my mother’s gold in her possession,” Naomi snapped, leaning forward.

My heart pounded painfully against my ribs. “You set her up,” I whispered. “You… you planted that gold on her. You’re doing this just to hurt me…”

Naomi’s lips curved into a smirk. “Believe whatever you want. But the fact is, I’m the only one who can get her out. And my condition stands.”

My throat closed up. “Why? Why me?”

“Because,” Naomi said, swirling her wine like this was casual. “he wanted a virgin.”

I recoiled. “Who?”

“My fiance,” she said, her smirk deepening. “Do you know what happens to women in jail, Celina? The misery, the stench, the guards who look at them like prey…” She tilted her head. “Would you like your mother to learn that lesson?”

The polished marble floor beneath me felt suddenly cold. “No. You know what she means to me. That’s why you’re using her. Just so I can do what you can’t. You should be ashamed,” I said.

Naomi chuckled without humor. “Ashamed? Of what? Using what I have to get what I want?”

She moved to the window, her silk robe dragging along the floor. Then she added, “No, honey. I’m strategic.”

I stared at her, my chest tight.

“If you say another word,” she said, the playful smile sliding from her face, “if you breathe too loud or act too smart, I’ll cancel the deal. I’ll get someone else. And your mother will stay where she is.”

Tears burned behind my eyes. My mouth opened, but nothing came out. I turned away before she could see my face break. The room spun for a second. My head pounded.

I reached for the door, my fingers trembling around the icy metal knob. When I opened it, I hesitated. She called after me, her voice sharp.

“Don’t forget, when you’re done, come back here. I’ll be waiting. And don’t mess up. He’s already drunk enough to believe anything.”

The hallway seemed endless, each step toward Suite 715 felt like walking toward execution. My heart thudded against my ribs, my body urging me to run, but my mother’s face held me hostage.

It was a five-star hotel, luxurious and intimidating. I didn’t belong here.

I took a deep breath, pressing my hand to the cold brass handle. My fingers shook as I knocked.

Nothing. My stomach twisted. Knocked again, louder this time. Each knock returned to me like a question I couldn’t answer. Running will be easier, but abandoning her would be betrayal. I would walk into fire for her, even if it burned away everything I was.

The door opened.

A man stood there.

Tall. Shirt half-unbuttoned. Eyes red. Staggering slightly.

He smelled like whiskey and regret.

It was Mr. Bryan Drake.

The billionaire.

Naomi’s fiance.

And he was looking straight at me like I was the only thing in his blurred world.