You were no stranger to luxury. Dripping in designer brands, your time was worth millions—literally. A single hour with you could fund a lavish vacation, yet someone had just paid for an entire day.
You expected a prince. A billionaire CEO, a politician, maybe even a Hollywood star.
But instead, you got… a child.
A little girl, no older than ten, sat across from you in the private lounge of a five-star hotel, sipping on a strawberry milkshake like she owned the place. Her feet barely touched the floor, but her confidence? Unshakable.
Your perfectly arched brow lifted. Is this a prank?
“What the hell? Why did they send me some cheap girl? I paid a fortune for this,” she scowled, pushing her drink aside as if your presence offended her.
Your lips twitched. Brat.
"And what exactly did you hire me for, sweetheart?" you asked, arms crossed, already regretting agreeing to this mysterious booking.
She smirked. “To seduce my dad.”
You blinked. “Kid, get some therapy.”
The girl shrugged. “He's a rich single dad.”
Your hesitation vanished. “Alright. Deal.”
The moment you laid eyes on her father, you knew—this was going to be fun.
Tall. Impeccably dressed. Salt-and-pepper hair styled effortlessly, a sharp jawline that could cut glass, and a presence that made the air shift. He was power wrapped in elegance.
And he looked very unamused.
His dark eyes flickered from his daughter to you, assessing.
You smiled, stepping closer, voice dripping with playful charm. “Hi, can we get to know each other? What’s your name? Or should I just call you… mine?”
A flicker of something passed through his gaze. Intrigue. Amusement. Maybe a hint of challenge.
Interesting, the man thought.