When Pride Meets Desire

Pride Has a Price Los Angeles was a city of masks glittering illusions painted over grit. Aidan Cole knew that better than most. The sun was merciless that morning, casting sharp lines on the cracked pavement of East Hollywood, where his boots pounded the sidewalk, each step echoing frustration. He’d just finished a night shift at the club. Another night of spilled drinks, leering rich men, and backdoor brawls. His shirt clung to him with sweat and cheap cologne, his knuckles bruised from breaking up a fight that wasn’t his. The hundred-dollar tip in his pocket felt like blood money. His phone buzzed. He ignored it. Buzzed again. This time, he checked. Marcus: Bro. You need to come to the apartment. Now. It’s serious. Aidan frowned and stuffed the phone into his jacket, turning the next corner. Marcus wasn’t the dramatic type paranoid, yes, but never careless with words. When he shoved open the door to their cramped third-floor apartment, the smell of cheap coffee and computer heat smacked him. Marcus sat cross-legged in his usual corner, surrounded by screens. "Took you long enough," Marcus muttered, not looking away from the monitor. "I worked ten hours dealing with entitled assholes and vomit. Say what you have to say before I pass out." Marcus turned. "You’ve got an offer. A big one." "Unless it involves five grand wired into my account by tomorrow morning, I’m not interested." Marcus just smirked and opened a file. "How about fifty grand upfront and a million over a year?" Aidan blinked. "d*******l? Arms? k********g?" "Marriage." Aidan stared. "Look," Marcus continued, "Some hotshot lawyer dropped this earlier. Said it was urgent. Confidential. From the Moretti state.