Groomed For The Billionaire

For Your Sake, You should Leave

The clock over the bar read 2:07 a.m. The club’s lights were softer now, the last of the customers thinning into the night like leaves falling from a tree. Sofia slipped out from behind the bar with her bag slung over her shoulder, the familiar ache in her feet a stubborn reminder that hours of work had just passed. Her makeup was dimmed from the night, her uniform smelled faintly of spilled wine and perfume. She felt both exhausted and strangely electric the way you do after the world has whirled around you for hours and you’ve somehow stayed upright through it.

She found Jasmine in the dressing room, tugging a robe over her shoulders and rubbing at what was left of her eyeliner. The room smelled of hairspray and cheap perfume.

“Leaving already?” Jasmine asked, not looking up.

Sofia hesitated at the open door. “Going for a drink.”

Jasmine glanced at her, mouth twisting. “Who with?”

“Henry.”

“Oh.” Jasmine’s face folded into something that read like confusion, that name doesn't sound familiar. “Okay, be careful,” Jasmine mumbled, then turned her face away, busy with her own mirror.

Sofia left through the staff exit and the morning air felt like a clean slate. Ahead, under the pool of the streetlamp, someone stood with his hands shoved into the pockets of a dark coat. He was exactly where Henry had said he’d be.

He straightened when he saw her, a small smile appearing as if relief had been held in his chest and finally exhaled.

“You waited,” she said, half laughing.

“Of course I waited.” He pushed his hands into his pockets and stepped forward. “I told you I would. I’m not in a rush.”

Sofia let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Up close, Henry looked neat, deliberate, a little worn at the eyes but steady. He offered his hand.

O

“Ready?” he asked.

“Ready,” she answered.

They began to walk toward where his car was parked. The night felt softer away from the club’s bass, conversational instead of performative.

“Hey,” a voice cut across the sidewalk before she could get more than three steps. “Sofia?”

She turned. Scott stood in the club doorway, his coat pulled on, the club behind him a warm blot in the night. He’d expected to be home by now. In the dim light his face was a little tired, but he straightened when he saw her.

“Hey,” she said, her voice steady, and a little weary.

Scott looked at Henry and then back to her. “I thought you were heading home.”

“I’m meeting someone,” she said. She glanced up. “This is Henry.”

Scott extended his hand, the automatic politeness of a businessman meeting a client. Henry took it. And she introduced Scott.

“Good to meet you, Mr. Millhone,” Henry said, his handshake firm and polite.

Scott’s voice was even. “Likewise.” He tilted his head toward Sofia. “You okay? Looks like you need to rest.”

Sofia shrugged. “I’m all good.”

Scott’s eyes softened slightly. He reached into his pocket and then, unexpectedly, took out his phone.

“By the way,” he said, meeting her eyes, “I told Marcus you could take the day off tomorrow. Take some rest. Call me if anything.”

Sofia’s chest did a small, confusing flip. “You… told Marcus?”

Scott gave a quick nod. “You’ve been working too hard.”

“Thank you,” she said, not looking impressed.

Scott’s gaze lingered on Henry for a beat too long, then returned to Sofia. “Alright. Be careful.”

“I will,” she said.

He watched them walk away, shoulders squared like he wanted to step forward and say more, but he only gave a small nod and went back into the club.

Henry watched Scott go, then looked at Sofia with a curious tilt to his mouth.

“Who’s that?” he asked.

“He’s my boss,” she said, and paused, she noticed the weird look on his face, like something wasn't adding up. “We’re not dating.”

“Noted,” Henry said with a short laugh that chased away something tense in his face.

They reached his car, a modest black sedan. He opened the passenger door for her like it was a courtesy he believed in.

“Where to?” he asked simply.

“There’s a café two blocks away that’s open all day,” she said. “It’s quiet.”

“Perfect.” He took the next left and slipped into a lane that led them under a string of low streetlights. In less than five minutes they parked outside the Cafe.

The waitress arrived with menus and the casual habit of someone who works the graveyard shift. Henry ordered black coffee and water. Sofia asked for tea. They didn’t order food, their plan was to talk. It was already too late or early to eat anything.

…………..

Jasmine grabbed her keys and walked to the front door, she was too exhausted to notice a dark figure on her front door. She was looking forward to throwing herself on the bed and just zone out.

“Hey baby,” she almost jumped out of her skin, she didn't see him.

“You f*****g i***t, you almost killed me,” she was breathing fast clutching her chest.

“I'm so sorry about that, I thought you saw me standing here.”

“No I didn't, especially since you're not supposed to be here. Why are you here?”

“That’s a very disrespectful question, and the only reason you'll be asking me such a question is if you already have another man inside.”

“Can you hear yourself?”

“Yes, I know you f**k other men for money. But I'm a good man, I'll always forgive you.”

Jasmine laughed. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Without saying another word, she unlocked the front door and stepped inside, closing the door behind her but Denzel pushed the door open and forced himself inside the house.

“Denzel, I need you to leave my house, and for your sake you should go now.”

“Or what?” He said, stepping closer to her.

“Or I'll call the police.”

“Then call them,” he whispered into her ears. “I want you to tell them that my only offense is coming over to see the woman I love.”

She was too exhausted for all these, so she turned and made her way towards her room, but he grabbed her and kissed her hard. She kissed him right back, with the same hunger in her eyes.

Denzel picked her off the ground and dropped her on the table, kissing her neck, his fingers already inside of her wet love hole. Jasmine moaning filled the room.

Denzel knew just how she liked it. She hated her body answered him, when her mind was screaming stop.