The days after meeting Daniel were unlike anything I had ever experienced. It was as though a door had been opened—one I had only dared to imagine from afar. He called me the very next day, his voice rich and smooth like the whiskey he drank the night we met.
"Alis," he said, drawing out my name as if savoring it. "Join me for dinner tonight."
It wasn't a question, and I didn't treat it like one. "Where?" I asked, trying to sound nonchalant even as my heart raced.
"I'll send a car," he replied, his tone oozing confidence.
When the sleek black sedan pulled up outside our decrepit building that evening, I felt a pang of self-consciousness. My dress was borrowed, my shoes were scuffed, and my makeup was applied with trembling hands. But as I slid into the plush leather seat, those insecurities melted away. The driver didn't even glance at me—to him, I could have been anyone, someone important. And for a moment, I believed it too.
The restaurant was unlike anything I had ever seen. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, their light refracting into a thousand tiny rainbows. The clink of glasses and the murmur of hushed conversations filled the air, a symphony of wealth and indulgence. Daniel was waiting for me at a corner table, his tailored suit hugging his frame perfectly.
"You look stunning," he said as he stood to greet me, his eyes sweeping over me in a way that sent a thrill down my spine.
I smiled, tilting my head slightly. "You're too kind."
The dinner passed in a blur of decadent flavors and intoxicating conversation. Daniel had a way of making everything he said sound fascinating, even when he was talking about something as mundane as stock markets. But I wasn't here to listen. I was here to learn.
"You're different," he said at one point, his gaze piercing. "Most women I meet try too hard to impress me. You don't."
I took a sip of my wine, letting his words hang in the air for a moment before responding. "Maybe I'm not like most women."
He laughed, a deep, genuine sound that made heads turn. "No, you're not."
As the night went on, I felt myself slipping further into the role I had created for myself. I leaned in when he spoke, laughed at his jokes, and let my fingers brush against his hand just enough to send a message. By the time dessert arrived, I knew I had him.
When he suggested we continue the evening at his penthouse, I hesitated for effect, biting my lower lip as though weighing my options. "I don't usually do this," I murmured, echoing the words I had used the night we met.
"Neither do I," he said, his voice low and inviting.
The penthouse was everything I had dreamed of and more. Floor-to-ceiling windows offered a breathtaking view of the city, and the furnishings were so luxurious they seemed almost unreal. Daniel poured us both a glass of champagne, his movements deliberate and practiced.
"To new beginnings," he said, raising his glass.
"To new beginnings," I echoed, clinking my glass against his.
The rest of the night was a haze of silk sheets and whispered promises, of heat and power and a fleeting sense of control. For the first time, I felt like I was the one in charge, even if it was an illusion. Daniel's hands roamed my body, but it was his world I was exploring. And as I lay in his arms, staring out at the glittering skyline, I felt a hunger I had never known before. Not for him, but for everything he represented.
By the time dawn broke, I was back in the sedan, heading home to my one-room flat. The contrast was jarring, but I didn't let it bother me. Instead, I clung to the memory of the night before, replaying every moment in my mind like a favorite song.
Daniel had given me a taste of the life I wanted, but it was just that—a taste. And I wanted more.
When I stepped through the door of our flat, my mother was waiting for me, her eyes red from a sleepless night. "Where were you?" she demanded, her voice trembling with anger and worry.
"Out," I replied curtly, brushing past her.
She grabbed my arm, her grip surprisingly strong. "You can't keep doing this, Alis. People will talk."
"Let them," I snapped, yanking my arm free. "I don't care what they think."
But even as I said the words, a small part of me wondered if she was right. The world I was stepping into was full of whispers and shadows, of risks and rewards that could destroy me as easily as they could elevate me. But it was too late to turn back now.
As I lay on my cot that night, staring at the ceiling, I felt the whispers return. Louder this time, more insistent. They spoke of power and desire, of men like Daniel and the doors they could open.
And I listened.