The shrill ringing of her phone jolted Alison from her spiraling thoughts. She took a deep breath, wiping away the tears that had pooled in her eyes, before glancing at the caller ID. It was Jayden. Wrong timing. She knew he had already discovered her plan to perform as a stripper, and she was well aware that he was vehemently opposed to it. Alison stared at the screen for a moment, then disconnected the call and switched her phone off. She had to do this... for Riley. "I'm so sorry, Jay," she whispered.
Just then, the door burst open, making Alison jump in surprise. She turned to see a tall blonde woman hurrying in. She wore blue designer glasses, and her hair was pulled back into a sleek ponytail. Recognizing her, Alison let out a sigh of relief. "Oh, it's just you... You nearly gave me a heart attack, Kaira."
"Did something happen?" Kaira asked, her voice tinged with alarm. When Alison didn't immediately respond, Kaira's eyes widened in realization. "That son of a bitch... I'm not going to spare him next time. Did he hurt you?"
Alison shook her head, forcing a smile. "No, it's fine," she lied, "but how did you—"
"I saw his car pulling out of the driveway when I came in."
Alison shrugged. "He came to warn me."
"Sick fuck."
"How's Riley doing?" Alison asked, trying to steer the conversation away from her own problems.
Kaira's expression darkened, a look of hesitation crossing her face.
"Is something wrong?" Alison's voice trembled slightly.
"Yes... actually," Kaira began, her tone uncertain. She paused, her eyes full of concern as she searched for the right words. "Riley's condition has worsened," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "His doctor told me he has only a day left to live."
Alison inhaled sharply, the news hitting her like a freight train. This can't be happening, she thought, feeling the tears threatening to spill over once more. But she knew she couldn't break down now. "I'll get the money soon. He'll have the surgery," she said, her voice more determined than she felt.
Kaira shook her head, her eyes pleading with Alison. "Come on, Alison. There has to be another way, besides putting your dignity on the line."
"This is the only way I can get the money in time," Alison insisted.
"No, this can't be the only way," Kaira argued. "We could ask our friends... Riley's friends... Jayden. He'd be able to help too—"
"There's no time left, Kaira," Alison interrupted. "Jayden's already done so much."
The room fell into a heavy silence as Alison stared at Kaira, silently begging for her to understand. Kaira gazed back, torn, knowing full well that this decision could ruin Alison's life. She desperately wanted to help but also knew that Alison wouldn't let her.
"Are you sure you want to go through with this?" Kaira finally asked, breaking the silence.
"Yes," Alison replied, her voice resolute.
Kaira took a deep breath, realizing there was nothing more she could say to change Alison's mind. "Fine... do what you have to do, but be careful, Alison."
"Look after Riley for me," Alison requested softly.
"I will," Kaira promised.
Alison glanced at her watch. It was 5:29 p.m. "Holy shit..." Her eyes widened. "Fuck, I'm going to be late. I have to go."
"Alright, take care of yourself," Kaira said, her voice filled with concern.
"Okay... see you later." Alison enveloped Kaira in a tight hug. "Thanks for everything."
With that, Alison grabbed her purse and phone and rushed out of the room. She hurried out of the apartment and flagged down a taxi. "Just drive straight ahead as fast as you can," she instructed the puzzled driver as she climbed in.
He nodded and sped off without question.
In less than twenty minutes, Alison found herself striding down the grand halls of the hotel, her heart pounding in her chest. She mentally prepared herself for what was to come. All she had to do was entertain the men at the bar, just for one night. It can't be that hard, she told herself, clinging to the hope that she could handle it.
She was in such a rush and so deep in thought that she didn't notice where she was going. Before she could react, someone harshly bumped into her, causing the glass of tequila he was holding to spill over the floor and onto Alison's dress, staining it. Alison recoiled, drawing a startled breath. She snapped back to the present and took a step back. "I'm so sorry," she stammered.
"Excuse you," a deep voice cut through the air, laced with a harsh undertone.
Alison looked up and stepped back again, shocked. She had half-expected to see a waiter or some drunk pervert, but the reality was far different. The man standing inches from her was tall and strikingly handsome, with features that seemed almost unreal. His face was smooth and clean-cut, with a perfectly shaped jawline. His intense golden eyes were unique and mysterious, and his thick, shiny jet-black hair was styled to perfection. He looked like an angel... an impossibly perfect angel... too good to be true. Alison felt small under the weight of his piercing, emotionless gaze.
His lips curved into a sly smile, more of a smirk. "What's a lowly girl like you doing here... Are you lost?" he sneered.
Lowly? Alison's mind reeled. No one had ever referred to her as lowly before; it was absurd. She mentally scanned herself and swore under her breath at her hasty choice of clothing. She had been in such a rush that she had grabbed the first thing she could find, and now, looking at herself, she realized just how worn-out and plain her outfit looked. She forced herself to relax, deciding that it was no use sulking over it now.
Meanwhile, he continued to observe her, his eyes scanning her from head to toe. After a moment, his fiery gaze softened slightly, and he spoke again. "You must be one of the strippers performing tonight... Jasmine, right?"
Alison didn't reply, her mind at war with her body, feeling utterly speechless.
"Right?" he repeated, his tone more insistent.
"Y-yes," she managed to stammer, mentally kicking herself for stuttering. "Why do you care?"
"I don't," he countered coldly.
Ouch. Harsh.
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a black handkerchief, and tossed it to her nonchalantly. "That's a cheap dress... but here, wipe the stain off it."
Alison felt her blood begin to boil at his condescending tone and the way he looked at her like she was nothing more than trash beneath his feet. His smug expression only added to her growing distaste. Who does he think he is? she fumed silently.
Before she could muster a fitting retort, he was already gone. She huffed in frustration. Jerk.
Glancing down at the handkerchief, she noticed the initials embroidered on it in gold thread:
Alexander Allan
So that was his name. She tossed the handkerchief aside, swearing to herself that she would make him pay dearly the next time their paths crossed.