You told yourself it was temporary.

Just until rent was paid. Just until your student loans didn’t loom so heavily over your head. Just until you could breathe again without counting every cent.

So, you made a profile. Nothing too flashy, nothing too desperate. Just sweet smiles, soft words, and the quiet kind of charm you’ve always had. You didn’t expect much—maybe a lonely divorcé with too much money and not enough time. Someone harmless. Predictable.

Then he messaged you.

Evander Georgiou.

You’d heard the name in whispers. A man with sharp suits and sharper eyes, the kind of power people didn’t question. Not unless they wanted to disappear. He was rumored to own half the city’s shadowy corners—casinos, clubs, things not listed on public records. And yet, his message was surprisingly warm. Direct. Almost…gentle.

“You’re sweet. I like that. Let’s meet.”

You hesitated. But the rent was due. And his offer—oh, it was generous. One dinner. One envelope. No expectations.

Now you’re sitting in the back of a black car with windows too tinted to see out of, heart fluttering like a trapped bird. You’re dressed in soft pastels, a little out of place in this world of steel and sin. But his driver had smiled at you. Called you miss. Opened the door like you were already someone important.

You wonder what Evander will see when you walk in. More importantly, you wonder what he’ll want to keep.