Married To My Richest Client

Chapter 2

Ysa was shocked when her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, half-expecting it to be the hospital, or the doctor, or bad news.

But it was Elena. She smiled. Elena. The only friend she’d ever had from that life. The one who was still in it. Still there, every night, same way of surviving. She hadn’t spoken to her in two years. Not since she’d walked away. Not since she’d told herself she was done.

“Hello?”

“Ysa?” Elena’s voice was loud, music thumping faint in the background. “Sh*t. Is that really you? I thought I’d never hear from you again.”

“Elena. It's Ysa. ” She gasped

“Girl, where you been? You vanished. Everyone asking. You got a new life now? Some rich guy swept you off your feet?” Elena laughed.

Ysa swallowed hard. “Something like that.”

“Doesn’t sound like it. You sound like sh*t.”

She let out a breath that shook. “I feel like sh*t.”

“Hey, you wanna come by? Just to talk. No work. Just… we haven’t sat down in forever. I miss you. This place is dead tonight anyway.”

The club. That club. The one she’d sworn she’d never step foot in again. Her stomach turned over. She could smell it already, sweat, smoke, expensive cologne, cheap perfume. She could feel the bass thrumming through her bones, the way men’s eyes would drag over her like they owned her before she even said a word.

“I don’t know, Elena. I —”

“Come on. You sound like you’re about to break. Don’t do this alone. We can sit in the back. Have a drink. Or not. Whatever you want. Just… come see me. Please?”

She thought of Dior. The bill. The three days. The man in the car who’d looked at her like he knew her, then didn’t stop. The feeling that she was falling and no one was catching her. “Okay,” she said, quiet. “Okay. I’m coming.”

The line was long when she got there. Girls in dresses too small, guys in suits, bouncers checking IDs. She walked past all of it, head down, and the bouncer just nodded. He remembered her. Of course he did. You don’t forget the girls who used to stand right out front every night.

Inside, the music was too loud. Lights flashed red and blue and gold, blurring faces until everyone looked the same. It was exactly how she remembered it. Exactly the way she’d hated it.

Elena was waiting by the bar, leaning against it, one leg crossed over the other. She looked the same, long black hair, red lipstick, eyes that had seen too much too young. When she saw Ysa, her face softened.

“Ysa.” She pulled her into a hug.

“God, it’s so good to see you. You look… different. Stunning.”

“Thanks.” Ysa sat on the stool, hands gripping the edge of the bar like it might float away.

“You too.”

“Water or beer?”

“Water please.”

Elena slid a glass over.

“So. Talk to me. What’s going on? You don’t just disappear for two years and then show up looking like someone died.”

Ysa stared into the water. “My son’s sick. Hospital bill. Sixty thousand. Due in three days.”

Elena went quiet. “Sh*t, Ysa."

“Yeah." She was tired.

“And you got nothing?”

“Nothing. I quit my job when he was born. No one will hire me.” She laughed, and it sounded broken. “I’m f*ck*d, Elena. I’m actually f*ck*d.”

Elena reached across the bar and squeezed her hand. “Hey. Hey, listen to me. You’re not. We’ll figure it out. There’s always —”

“No.” Ysa pulled her hand back.

“Don’t. I’m not doing that again. I can’t. Not after —”

“After what? After him?” Elena’s voice dropped. “The guy? The one night? You still thinking about him?”

Ysa looked away. “It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t even know I exist.”

“Men like that always know who exists.” Elena sighed, leaning her elbows on the bar. “Look. I’m not gonna push you. I’m not gonna tell you what to do. But if you change your mind… I got regulars. Good ones. Decent pay. No weirdos. Not that you’d ever have a problem getting work anyway. You know how it is, you walk in here and every guy in the room stops talking.”

“I don’t want them to look at me.”

“I know. But sometimes we do things we don’t want to do so the people we love get to live. That’s just how it goes, Ysa. You know that better than anyone.”

Ysa closed her eyes. She knew. She’d known it her whole life. The world doesn’t care if you’re good. It only cares what you’re willing to sell.

They sat there for a long time after that. Not talking. Just watching the crowd. Girls dancing on tables, men handing over bills like they were nothing, the bass so loud it rattled the glass in her hand. It felt like home and hell all at once.

The only place she’d ever belonged, and the place she’d been running from the longest. Then a man stepped up beside them. He was older, gray at the temples, expensive watch, the kind of guy who thought everything had a price tag. He didn’t even look at Ysa. He looked straight at Elena, hand closing around her arm, not rough but not gentle either.

“Ten thousand,” he said, like it was nothing. “For the night. Come with me.”

Elena didn’t even hesitate. She didn’t ask him what he wanted. Didn’t negotiate. Didn’t check his hands or his eyes or anything. She just nodded and smiled.

“Okay,” she said. “Give me a minute.”

Elena turned to Ysa, grabbing her bag. “I’m sorry. I —”

“Go.” She cut her. Ysa's voice was flat. Empty. “It’s fine. I get it.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? We’ll figure something out.”

“Elena —” Ysa reached out, stopped her.

“Is it worth it? Any of it?” Elena looked at her, and for a second all the toughness fell away. She looked small. Tired. Scared.

“It pays the bills, Ysa. That’s all it ever is. That’s all it ever will be.” And then she was gone. The man’s hand on her elbow, leading her through the crowd, and Ysa watched her go, chest tight, because that could be her. That would be her, in three days, if she didn’t find a way. She’d be exactly where Elena was taking whatever was offered, whoever it was, because the alternative was losing everything.

She stood up, suddenly sick of it all. Sick of the lights, sick of the noise, sick of the way this place swallowed women whole and called it opportunity.

She was about to leave, to walk out the door and never come back, when she saw him. He was standing near the entrance, half in shadow, so still she almost didn’t notice him. Broad shoulders, dark suit, everything about him quiet and expensive.

He wasn’t drinking. Wasn’t looking at the dancers. Wasn’t looking at anyone but her. Her breath caught in her throat. It was the same face. The same jawline. The same dark eyes that seemed to see right through everything, the noise, the lights, the dress she was wearing, every lie she’d ever told herself.

It was the man from the car. The man from three years ago. The one who’d paid her five times what she asked and then vanished. But he was farther away now.

The lights were dim. People were moving between them. She couldn’t be sure. She wanted to be sure more than anything, but she couldn’t, not with certainty, not yet.

He didn’t move. Didn’t come closer. Just stood there, watching her, and for one heartbeat the whole club fell silent around her. She stood frozen, unable to walk toward him and unable to look away, her heart hammering so hard it drowned out the music.

Is it you... she asked in the air.

He tilted his head, just slightly. Like he heard her. Like he knew exactly what she was asking. And then someone stepped in front of him, a group of men, laughing, shoving each other — and when they cleared, he was gone.

She ran to where he’d been. Pushed through the crowd, breathless, searching every face. But he wasn’t there. Nowhere. Like he’d never existed at all. She stood there, in the middle of the chaos, trembling all over.

Had it been him? Or was she so desperate, so broken, that she was starting to see him everywhere? She didn’t know. She couldn’t know. But one thing was certain, he was here. In this city. In this life. And she was walking straight toward him, whether she was ready or not.