Chapter 3: The Substitution
1195 Words
Kayla stared at the number on her phone for the fifth time that hour.
Annie (3 missed calls).
Her best friend never called more than once unless someone had died or landed a modeling gig with free heels. The last message from Annie had simply read:
“EMERGENCY. CALL ME BACK ASAP.”
She was on her break now, wedged between the industrial freezer and the humming vending machine in the cramped backroom of the snack joint. The smell of burnt fries clung to her uniform, and her sneakers squelched from where someone had spilled soda earlier and never cleaned it up.
She pressed call back and braced herself.
Annie picked up immediately. “Finally!”
“What’s wrong?” Kayla asked, rubbing her eyes. “You okay?”
“I need a huge favor. Massive. Possibly illegal.”
Kayla blinked. “Do I need bail money?”
“No! But I need you to be me.”
Kayla’s heart skipped. “Come again?”
Annie’s voice rushed out like a fire hose. “I got to the hotel early, like you said I should, and right when I was about to check in, my brother called. He got into a minor accident on the freeway. I need to go pick him up. But if I miss this shift tonight, they’ll blacklist me. I’ll never get another shot.”
Kayla leaned against the wall. “And you want me to... what? Pretend to be you? At an elite club full of billionaires?”
“Exactly,” Annie said cheerfully, as if it were a simple task. “Just greet guests, serve drinks, smile a lot. You won’t be alone. There are other girls. You don’t even have to talk much.”
“I don’t even own heels,” Kayla said flatly.
“There’s a pair in the bag I left for you at the front desk. With the dress. Just tell them you’re Annie Westwood. It’s all under that name. They won’t question it. Please, Kay. I’d ask someone else if I could, but you’re the only one I trust.”
“I’m not cut out for this,” Kayla muttered.
“You’re cut out for survival. You’ve done worse for less. This is four hours. You’ll walk out with enough to pay your rent and eat something with protein in it for once.”
Kayla hesitated. She thought of the debt piling up, of the food she skipped again today. She thought of her parents how hard they’d worked just to give her a shot, how ashamed they’d be to see her here. Or would they understand?
“Fine,” she said, swallowing her pride. “I’ll do it.”
“You’re a lifesaver. I owe you. Like, deeply. Forever. Go now. They’re expecting you at the employee entrance in twenty minutes.”
Kayla ended the call and closed her eyes. She had officially crossed the line. Whatever line there was between desperate and... whatever this was. But Annie was right.
She needed to survive.
---
Forty-five minutes later, Kayla stood in front of the X Hotel on Fifth Avenue, wrapped in a deep crimson sheath dress that clung to her curves like a second skin and heels that made her feet scream in protest. Her hair was slicked into a clean bun, and her makeup, compliments of Annie’s emergency beauty kit made her look older, sharper, and less like a broke college student pretending to be someone else.
The doorman barely glanced at her before waving her in. “VIP Staff?”
She nodded.
“Service elevator. Down the left hallway. Someone will be waiting to brief you.”
The lobby was dripping in gold and marble, a silent scream of wealth. Kayla tried not to gawk as she walked briskly toward the elevator. Chandeliers hung like ice sculptures above her, and the scent of expensive cologne and lilies clung to the air like mist.
She found the hallway, pressed the elevator button with a shaky finger, and took a deep breath as the doors opened.
No going back now.
---
“Name?” a tall, sharp-looking woman asked as Kayla stepped into the velvet-draped employee lounge.
“Annie Westwood,” Kayla replied, her voice firmer than she felt.
The woman, Veronica, according to her badge, eyed her for a bit, then nodded.
“You’re a bit late. But you clean up well. Stick to the VIP lounge. Smile, be attentive, and stay quiet unless spoken to. No personal questions. No lingering glances. No fraternization.”
Kayla nodded obediently.
Veronica handed her a tray of crystal champagne flutes. “Take these to the private suite. Room 1704. Only pour if asked. And remember” she leaned in “they’re not here for you. They’re here for privacy. Be invisible.”
Kayla murmured her agreement and stepped out of the room, heels clicking on marble.
As she walked down the gold-trimmed corridor, her heart thundered in her ears.
Room 1704. She found it easily, it had its own set of guards in discreet black suits.
One of them opened the door wordlessly.
Kayla stepped inside.
The room was dimly lit with low jazz playing, the scent of cigars and aged whiskey thick in the air. Plush couches lined the walls, and several high-profile-looking men were engaged in quiet conversations.
She tried to keep her eyes low as she walked forward, placing the tray on a nearby table.
But then…
“Excuse me,” came a low voice from behind her. “You’re new.”
Kayla turned and froze.
The man was tall, broad-shouldered, with black hair slicked back and icy blue eyes that pinned her like a target. He wore a navy suit that looked custom, and his presence... it was suffocating and magnetic all at once.
Liam Jones.
She didn’t know his name yet. But she would.
And he didn’t know her. Not yet.
But fate already had them tangled.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her.
“What’s your name?” he asked.
Kayla hesitated, remembering the rule.
“Annie,” she said quietly.
He smiled, barely. “Alright.”
He turned back to his drink without another word.
Kayla exhaled in relief, retreating toward the door but then someone else entered the room.
Zane.
Zane Knox.
She didn’t recognize him instantly, he was wearing a sharp charcoal suit, his hair styled differently than in school. But when he laughed, she knew.
Zane.
She ducked her head, hoping he wouldn’t see her. He looked directly at her tray and frowned, confused for a second. She turned, fast, before their eyes could meet.
Veronica had said this place was exclusive, what the hell was he doing here?
“Annie!” someone called behind her.
She turned on instinct.
Zane was walking toward her, and this time, there was no mistaking the recognition in his face.
“Kayla?” he said, loud enough for heads to turn.
She froze.
Liam glanced up.
Kayla's stomach dropped as she realized her biggest mistake wasn’t coming here, it was being recognized.
And now, both men were looking at her.
One was her friend.
The other… her future.
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