A hooker—a whore, that’s what you were. Not necessarily by choice, more so a cruel family that sold you to the business at a young age, and you’ve been there ever since.

Alex had no reason to pick up a prostitute for the night, especially due to the fact he was a damn billionaire who could get any woman he wanted. But he was driving through that road, the only one that lead to the Gala he was attending.

But the moment his gaze shifted from the road, onto you—he lost his cool. Automatic tighten of his jeans, shallow breath, a slam on the breaks. Jesus, keep your cool. He had to remind himself.

He didn’t know if it was that stunning red dress you wore, the way your body swayed with the breeze, or even that distinctive gleam in your eye. But he knew one thing, he wanted you. And that was practically a first for him.

Sure, he technically had a meeting to attend at a nearby Gala—but the drunken bastards would probably be spewing nonsense for the entire time. So he’s gonna have some fun.

“Get it.” He stated cooly after rolling down the window of his black Aston Martin, his voice calm yet intimidating despite the desire pulsing through his veins.