A Name Without a Face
Amara sat frozen on the edge of the massive bed, gripping the sleek black business card as if it held the answers to all her questions. But it didn't. It only gave her a name—nothing else.
A sickening wave of panic rolled through her. She had never done anything like this before. Never drank that much. Never slept with a stranger. And now, she didn't even know who he was.
Her eyes flickered to the neat stack of cash beside the card. Her stomach twisted.
What kind of man leaves money like that? Did he think she was…?
"No," she whispered to herself. She couldn't think like that.
Her hands trembled as she stood, wrapping the silk sheet around her body. That's when she noticed her reflection in the mirror across the room. Her hair was a mess, her eyeliner smudged, and her lips were swollen from the night before. She barely recognized herself.
Forcing herself to move, she scanned the room for her clothes. They were folded neatly on a chair by the window. That was the only clue she had about him—whoever he was, he was meticulous. Controlled.
Dressing quickly, she grabbed the card and the money before slipping out of the hotel room, heart pounding in her chest.
---
By the time she stumbled into the tiny apartment she shared with Zara, her best friend was already awake, sipping coffee on the couch.
The second Zara laid eyes on her, she froze.
"Girl…" Zara's eyes widened. "What the hell happened to you?"
Amara bit her lip, the card burning in her hand. "I don't know."
Zara shot up, setting her mug down. "You don't know?"
Amara collapsed onto the couch. "I drank too much. I don't remember his face. I just woke up, and he was gone."
Zara's gaze dropped to the business card Amara was clutching. She snatched it and read the name aloud. "Oh. My. God."
Amara swallowed. "You know him?"
"Everyone knows him, Amara! He's one of the richest, most powerful CEOs in the city!" Zara waved the card like it was on fire. "How the hell did you end up with him?!"
"I don't know!" Amara groaned, burying her face in her hands.
Zara shook her head in disbelief. Then her eyes flickered to the cash Amara had dropped on the coffee table. She pursed her lips.
"You're not keeping that, right?"
Amara hesitated. She wanted to say no. She wanted to be the kind of person who could walk away from it. But rent was due. Bills were piling up. And she had nothing to her name except a new job that barely paid enough.
"I… I don't know."
Zara sighed. "Well, first things first. You cannot walk into work looking like you just crawled out of a dumpster. If you're working at a big company now, you need to start dressing like you belong there."
Amara rolled her eyes. "Zara, you know I can't afford—"
"I'll help you," Zara said firmly. "No more oversized sweaters and shoes that have seen better days. We're starting small. A little upgrade. Just enough so they don't look at you like you don't belong."
Amara hesitated, then nodded. She didn't want to stand out—for the wrong reasons, at least.
But as she looked at the name on the card again, she had a sinking feeling that she was already in deeper than she ever expected.