Bella
Guests are beginning to arrive. Each step they take makes a sound, not because of their expensive shoes, but because of the confidence they carry into every room. And among all that glitter, I am just one small part of the performance—a living decoration, wrapped in a fake, practiced smile.
As usual, I stand near the bar, adjusting my slightly sagging stockings. Our uniforms are a symbol of what Ted really wants from all of us: short dresses, tops with necklines that plunge too low, and high heels that feel like they're designed to crush my feet. I take a deep breath and tie my hair up. Stay calm, Bella. Do your job. Don't think about anything else.
"Doll Face."
My body tenses slightly as I hear the voice behind me. I turn to find Ted standing there, his crinkled mouth smiling, feeling more like thorns. He looks me up and down, as though I'm a piece of art he owns.
"You look captivating as always," he says.
I try to hide the disgust creeping up my throat.
"Make sure to give our special guests some extra attention tonight, alright?" Ted adds, his tone too sweet to be genuine.
I nod obediently, suppressing the urge to push back. I know the consequences of challenging him in this place. Ted doesn't shout or cause a scene; he just takes you to his small office upstairs, speaks quietly, and threatens you in that fucking chilling way of his. His threats don't have to be loud to make me feel like the ground beneath me is about to crumble.
When Ted leaves, I exhale in relief and pick up a tray from the bar, heading toward the table the bartender indicates—a group of men in suits speaking in low voices.
In the middle of serving guests, I notice him. He sits in the corner of the room, slightly removed from the crowd, his posture straight like someone who knows exactly who he is. His dark, beautiful eyes scan the room like a king surveying his domain. He wears an expensive suit that clings to him like a second skin. But that isn't what makes me notice him—there's something different about this man.
He is the only businessman I've ever known who looks attractive. Sharp jawline, trimmed beard, he's handsome even though his expression seems devoid of compassion. His body is athletic, unlike most of the businessmen Ted assigns to me, whose stomachs are fat and round. Unlike the other guests, who always watch servers like me with hungry gazes, he seems… calm. Unhurried.
When his eyes finally meet mine, my heart skips a beat. A faint smile appears on his lips, and I quickly look away, feeling like I've just been caught doing something wrong.
Don't be stupid, Bella. Men like him always have hidden agendas. But there's a small part of me—the part that has longed for genuine warmth for far too long—that wants to believe that maybe his smile is different.
I try to distract myself by working harder, keeping my smile in place, speaking politely to guests who don't see me as a person but merely as a server. Yet every time I glance over, I can feel his eyes lingering on me. The curiosity in his gaze pierces through the walls I've built over the years.
When I finally walk to his table to deliver his drink, I have to remind myself to remain professional.
"Your order, sir," I say, placing the glass in front of him.
He looks up, and the air around us feels heavier. "Thanks, Bella."
"Sure, anytime," I reply curtly, trying not to show that his attention unsettles me.
I give him a last polite smile and return to the bar, trying to shake off the brief exchange. But my mind remains stuck on him—on the way he says my name, on the way his eyes study me as if trying to understand something unspoken.
From the corner of my eye, I see him talking to Ted. It isn't an unusual sight—Ted speaks to all the important guests—but there's something about the way they interact that sends a shiver down my spine.
Ted seems too polite, too sly, like a snake trying to hide its fangs. And Jonathan? He looks completely unfazed. In fact, there's a glint in his eyes that says he knows exactly how this game is played.
Who is he?
I try to ignore it and continue working, but the curiosity only grows.
As the night wears on and the guests begin to thin out, I finally allow myself a moment of relief. I'm cleaning the last table when Ted's voice stops me in my tracks.
"Bella, wait a moment," he says.
I turn to see him standing with the man. Ted smiles, but I know better than to trust that smile.
"This is Mr. Jonathan Harper. He's one of our VVIP guests tonight. Make sure he gets everything he needs."
Ted doesn't know we've met before.
VVIP guests. That's the term for the men Ted schedules to sleep with me.
I nod, though a small part of me wants to scream. Jonathan Harper—the man who, without realizing it, has been etched into my mind all night.
Ted walks away, leaving the two of us alone, and I try to stay calm.
"You don't seem to like him," he says, breaking the silence.
I stare at him, unsure how to respond. No one has ever said something like that about Ted before—at least not to me.
"I'm just an employee," I finally say. "My personal opinions don't matter."
"Yours matters," he says, his tone firm yet gentle. "You're just not used to being asked."
There's something about the way he speaks that makes me want to trust him, even though I know I shouldn't.
"What if I want to know more about your opinions, Bella?" he asks, his voice lower now. "Or should I say, I want to know more about you."
I give a small dry chuckle. "You better don't. See you tonight, Mr. Harper." I walk away.
But as I walk, I can still feel his eyes on me, as if he's trying to read all the secrets I've kept hidden for so long.