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Chapter 2

The elevator ride to the fifteenth floor is smooth, silent, and lined with mirrors. I always study myself in them, just enough to remind myself who is in control. Tonight, the silk dress clings perfectly, the lipstick is daring without being desperate, and my eyes say i am not here to play, i am here to win.

The elevator dings, Suite 1502.

Daniel opens the door with that easy, well-practiced smile; the kind men wear when they have spent decades getting everything they want. He kisses my cheek lightly, his cologne wrapping around me in warm, expensive notes of cedar and citrus. The room is everything I expected; champagne chilling by the window, a view of the city that feels stolen from a dream.

We talk, we laugh, we drink. Daniel is generous with compliments and quick to reach for the bill. He likes control, most men like him do, but i have learned to let them think they have it; That is part of the game.

Halfway through dinner, there is a knock at the suite door. Daniel excuses himself, and when he opens it, another man steps in.

He is younger, mid-thirties maybe tall, with sharp cheekbones and eyes that scan the room like they are cataloging every detail. He is dressed in a dark suit, no tie, the top button undone.

“Stella,” Daniel says, gesturing between us. “This is Adrian Cole, Business associate; Adrian, this is… a friend.”

Adrian’s gaze lingers on me a beat too long. “Pleasure,” he says, but his voice is low, deliberate, like he is testing the word.

I offer a polite smile. “Likewise.”

We exchange a few harmless sentences, but it is the way he is looking at me as if he already knows I’m not just Daniel’s “friend” that makes my pulse quicken.

Daniel disappears into the adjoining room to take a call, leaving me with Adrian. He leans back in his chair, watching me the way a chess player watches a dangerous opponent.

“So,” he says, swirling his glass of whiskey, “how long have you and Daniel been… Friends?”

“Long enough to know he is good company,” I reply, my voice even.

Adrian smiles, but it is not a warm smile. It is the kind that says he is filing away every word for later. “Good company can be expensive.”

I take a slow sip of champagne, keeping my eyes on him. “Some things are worth the cost.”

Daniel returns, and the tension in the room shifts back to polite conversation, but I can still feel Adrian’s gaze on me, measuring, assessing.

When I left that night, I caught him in the hallway, leaning casually against the wall. He does not speak, just gives me that same unreadable smile before turning away.

I know that look, it is not a desire. It is an interest.

And interest, in my world, is almost always dangerous.