The silver tray burned into my trembling fingers. Two hundred dollars. That was what this corrupt catering agency promised to pay me for pulling a double shift at the Fortnight Ball tonight. It wasn't enough to cover my overdue rent, but after my boss cruelly fired me yesterday, it was the only thing keeping me off the freezing streets. "More champagne, miss," a wealthy man grunted, not sparing me a glance as he grabbed a crystal flute from my tray. I forced a polite smile and resumed moving. My feet throbbed inside my cheap, regulation black flats and the apron felt tight. Around me, women in million-dollar silk gowns and men in custom tuxedos laughed, lost in their worlds, completely oblivious to my desperation. If I dropped a single glass, I would be fired on the spot without a dime. Just like yesterday. I spotted Ruth, my best friend, also dressed in our server uniform. Her face was pale with panic. "Don't go into the VIP lounge. Alec Rivera just arrived, and he's already furious." I froze at the name of the city's most ruthless billionaire, but I couldn't move out of the way fast enough. A drunk guest lurched his heavy shoulder into my back, knocking me off balance. My silver tray tipped violently, and three crystal glasses flew through the air as I crashed into another solid wall of fabric. A scent of cedarwood and expensive cologne surrounded him, carrying the quiet confidence of a man used to being obeyed. I looked up, my breath catching in my throat as I stared into a pair of piercing, blue eyes. It was him. The hall fell into silence; even the band stopped playing. I could hear my best friend gasping behind me. "Did she just spill drinks on the host?" a guest rasped, shaking her head. "Oh, she's about to regret the day she was born." "These girls are always desperate, throwing themselves at him," another leered. Alec Rivera. CEO of Daston Airlines and heir to the Rivera Group. He looked down at his ruined suit with barely veiled contempt, before his gaze lingered on my face just for a second too long, like he was deciding my fate. "I'm so sorry, sir." I clasped my hands together. "I never meant for any of this to happen." My heart had never pounded so fast. "Mabel Parker!!" The manager called as he stormed over. "What have you done?" "It was a mistake," I stuttered. "I'm calling the police right away." "There's no need for that," Alec Rivera spoke, his deep voice cutting through the tense silence of the room. The manager blinked, his eyes darting frantically to the shattered glass on the floor and the dark puddle of champagne pooling around Alec's expensive shoes. "Sir? Your suit... and the drinks-" "Clean the place," Alec said, finally looking at the chubby man. "And give her a fresh tray." Then, those piercing blue eyes snapped back to me. A sudden wave of heat rushed through my chest, and my skin flushed beneath my cheap uniform. My lungs forgot how to take a breath until he stepped away. The hall buzzed back to life as Alec vanished into the crowd, but the heavy, curious stares of some guests remained pinned to my skin. Ruth rushed to my side the moment the manager scurried away to find a broom. Her hands were shaking as she grabbed my arm. "Mabel. Oh my god. Why did Alec Rivera just protect you?" I couldn't answer her. My chest was still tight, my skin still tingling from how close he had been. I looked down at my empty, trembling hands. Men like Alec didn't want women like me. A B.Sc. graduate who couldn't land a decent job. A daughter still grieving her mother nearly five years after her death. The child of a deadbeat father who never hesitated to bring his debtors to her doorstep. "Here," the manager shoved another cold tray into my hands, sneering as he wiped a speck of dust off his own lapel. "Don't get any ideas, Ms. Parker. A man like Alec Rivera doesn't even see people like you. This isn't Pride and Prejudice, sweetheart." His words stung like a physical slap. I forced my chin up, refusing to let him see the tears pricking the corners of my eyes. He was right. This wasn't a Cinderella story where the billionaire swoops in and saves the miserable server girl. And I needed that two hundred dollars. Alec was now dancing with one of the guests, a blonde in a beautiful red dress. I tried not to notice the way he held her waist, the way they laughed and waltzed across the dance floor, the crystal chandelier catching the sparkles in their eyes. Why did it bother me seeing him smile at another woman? He spun her mid-turn, and his gaze found mine. It held for the briefest moment, then he looked away. The last note of the music faded, and they parted. Alec picked up a drink from a passing server. He gulped a mouthful and glanced at his drink. His face turned pale, and one hand drifted to his stomach. I was no detective, but I could sense something was wrong. Alec turned and started toward the door. "Hold this for me, Ruth." I shoved my tray into a shocked Ruth's hands. "Where are you going?" she hissed, her eyes widening as I backed away. "Mabel?" "Just cover for me for five minutes," I whispered, already slipping through the heavy velvet curtains of the main hall, leaving the booming classical music and the chattering elite behind. The VIP corridor was a stark contrast-silent, dimly lit, and lined with marble pillars. My cheap flats made no sound against the thick plush carpet as I hurried forward, my heart hammering against my ribs. Why am I doing this? I chided myself. He's a billionaire. He doesn't need help from a server. I turned to leave and ran into an older woman. She grabbed my shoulder. "You're just in time."

"Who are you?" I blurted. The corners of her lips curved into a smile. Something about it sent a chill down my spine. She snapped her fingers and two hefty men emerged from the corner. They seized my arms and dragged me toward the elevator. I tried to fight back. But I was no match for them. "What do you want from me?" I rasped. The older woman didn't answer. She simply pressed a button on the elevator, and the two men shoved me inside the moment the golden doors opened. "Consider this your lucky night, sweetheart," she said. My lucky night? What was that? Before I could dash forward, the doors slid closed and opened with a soft chime, revealing the breathtaking luxury of a penthouse suite. The room was vast, lined with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the midnight skyline of Washington, D.C. My eyes locked onto Alec Rivera. He had discarded his ruined suit jacket on the plush rug. His crisp white dress shirt was halfway unbuttoned, his chest rising and falling in ragged, uneven breaths. He was slumped against the edge of a massive king-sized bed. His face was flushed and a heavy sweat glistened on his forehead. "Mr. Rivera?" I scurried to his side. His eyes were bloodshot, fever-bright, and clouded with confusion that sent a shiver down my spine. "What's happening to me?" "I don't know. I saw you leaving the party." "I feel-" He sucked in a breath, his jaw tightening. "Different." I touched his forehead. "You're burning up." His fingers brushed my arm, and he flinched like even that small contact sent something sharp through him. "Everything feels wrong." "We need to get you to the hospital." I reached for my pocket and froze. Of course, the manager had asked every staff member to submit our phones. "Are you with your phone?" He gave it to me. There was no signal. I checked the room's telephone, silence. My pulse quickened. A luxury penthouse like this wasn't supposed to lose every line of communication. "I need to go and get help." "Don't go," he stuttered. "I- don't really trust anyone else." My eyes watered. It felt surreal hearing a billionaire say they trusted me. "Okay. I'm not leaving." I rushed to the bathroom and soaked a clean towel in cool water. Adrenaline rushed through my nerves as I dashed back to the room and pressed the towel on his forehead and the back of his neck. It didn't give him relief. Instead, his breathing accelerated as if his body couldn't decide between collapsing and fighting. He planted a hand on the mattress and forced himself to his feet. The moment he straightened, his balance deserted him. I caught him, my fingers gripping his forearms as I guided him back on the bed. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his voice hoarse. "For what?" "I don't... lose control." "It's fine." I offered a polite smile. "Sometimes, things can get out of control." He shook his head. "No. This is different. I feel str-ange." Quickly, I grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge, rushed back to his side and helped him drink. He stayed silent for several long breaths, the frantic rise and fall of his chest gradually slowing. "Why are you helping me?" I closed the bottle and lowered it on the bedside table. "Because nobody else is." He rested his head on my shoulder. I could feel the tension slowly leaving his body, even though his breathing remained uneven. "Thank you," he whispered. "You don't have to thank me." He lifted his head and looked at me. There was something different in his eyes now. The arrogance I'd seen downstairs was gone. So was the coldness. He looked... vulnerable. "Most people in my world only stay because they want something." "Well, I don't." His gaze lingered on my face. "You're kind." I smiled faintly. "I'm just doing what anyone would do." "No." He shook his head. "Not anyone." The vulnerability in his voice caught me off guard. For the first time that night, I stopped seeing the billionaire everyone downstairs had been talking about. I saw a man who was scared. A man who needed someone. And perhaps that was why I stayed. Another silence stretched between us. He reached for the bottle and took another long drink of water. Color had begun to return to his face. "The pounding in my head is easing." I smiled, relieved. He finally looked like himself again. His eyes dropped to my lips. "Can I?" My heart pounded. I should have said no. Instead, I gave the smallest nod. Maybe because I wanted to know what it felt like to be wanted, not because of my appearance, my job, or what I could offer someone, but simply because I was me. He leaned closer and kissed me. It was gentle at first. Almost hesitant. Nothing like the man I'd imagined him to be. When he pulled back, he tucked a loose strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was unexpectedly gentle and electric, sending heat down my spine and somewhere I couldn't dare mention. My heart raced. "Tell me to stop if you want me to." I swallowed. "I will." He kissed me again, slower this time, lowering me on the bed, then moved on top of me. This time, I didn't feel like I was helping a stranger. I felt like I was making a choice. One I knew I might regret. A moan escaped me as he kissed my jaw, my neck, his hands kneading my legs, my thighs. Slowly, he pulled away and stood. I watched him rip off his tie. His waistcoat. His shirt revealing an intricate tattoo on his chest, then his shoes... one piece at a time, his eyes never leaving mine, until he stood naked before me. He was massive. Overwhelming. Trembling. "Are you okay, Mr. Rivera?" "Yes," he whispered as he removed my shoes and kissed my feet. He peeled off my cheap uniform, my pantyhose and panties, and dropped to his knees. His tongue found me, deep long strokes that had me gasping and grabbing his hair. My whole body tightened. I came embarrassingly so fast, chest heaving, my back arching off the bed. He straightened, and our lips met again, intense and passionate. He joined me again on the bed and parted my thighs with his. He entered me with one, hard thrust. Pain shot through me despite how much my body had welcomed him. He was my first. He had no idea. Of all the people in the world, my first time had somehow happened with a man I barely knew, a man I had met only hours ago. Yet lying beneath him, I didn't feel ashamed. He looked at me for a long moment, as though searching my face for something he couldn't quite understand. "Will I see you again?" he asked. "I–I don't know. It depends on you." "I want to see you again." Something inside me softened. I searched his eyes wondering if he meant those words or if he was still under the influence of whatever he took this evening. Our lips met again. We moved as one. When it was over, he collapsed onto the bed beside me, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. We panted. I stole a glance at him. His eyes were closed. He looked asleep. I turned to leave and his hands caught mine. "Stay...please," he pleaded, his voice rough.

Rays of sunlight spilled through the floor-to-ceiling windows and landed on my face. I swiveled on the bed and peeled my eyes, smiling as memories of last night played in my head. It was passionate. We'd given ourselves completely to each other, without holding back. Even the sheets still carried the scent of our sweet lovemaking. I turned and found the space beside me empty. Cold. But I sat up and saw him standing before the window, already dressed, with his back to me. "Good morning." He glanced over his shoulder and resumed staring across the window. "What's your name?" he asked. "Mabel." I swallowed. "Mabel Parker." Slowly, he turned around and faced me, his eyes cold as winter's breeze. "Who are you working for, Mabel?" I blinked. "What?" He walked to the table and picked up a glass, his drink from last night. He shook it gently and looked at me again. "Last night, my drink was spiked. I managed myself to my penthouse and suddenly you showed up." "Excuse me?" My brows pulled closely as I tried to decipher what he was saying. "I–I do not understand." His jaw tightened . "I don't have time for this. If you don't want me calling the police, I suggest you start talking, Ms. Parker." Police? What did the police have to do with the one-night stand we had? My heart pounded. "Why would you think I did that?" I stuttered. "I-I wasn't even the one who served you last night." "I've seen this before. There's a strong chance you conspired with whoever spiked my drink." "No!" I shook my head. "I did not!" "What's in it for you? Money? Is someone trying to blackmail me?" Tears gathered in my eyes.. "I will never do such a thing!" He lowered the drink and took a cautious step toward the bed. "You will never do such a thing?" "Yes." "How did you suddenly know where I was?" My lips parted and closed. "It's true I noticed you leaving the party. But someone grabbed me in the hallway and threw me into the elevator, and the next thing, I was in your suite." "Trust me," I begged. He smirked. "Who?" I realized I didn't even know anything about the stranger last night. "A woman." I blinked. "S-she was in her mid-fifties, I think... had green eyes and blonde hair." Silence stretched between us. His eyes softened as though he was believing me, only to harden again. His phone rang. With his eyes still locked on mine, he answered. "Hello, sweetheart." Sweetheart? He had a sweetheart? His heart belonged to someone else yet I had given mine completely to him without holding back. "Yes, I'm in my suite," he said, and slipped the phone back into his pocket. We stared at each other. Just then, a knock sounded on the door. Our eyes drifted to the door and met again. Warmth pooled in my belly. No. I shouldn't still feel this way toward him. Not after his accusation and what I knew now. Alec hesitated for a split second, then he stepped away from the bed and answered the door. My heart sank as I took in the slender figure. A beautiful brunette in designer clothes, and a woman in her eighties. "Oh, thank goodness you're safe, Alec," the older woman rasped and hugged him. "Mama Emelda. I'm fine," he said and straightened. "So you're cheating on me?" the model-looking lady asked, bursting into tears. "Angelina!" He stepped toward her, but she stepped back. It hurt my heart seeing him put so much effort toward another woman. My fingers instinctively tightened on the sheets. "I swear, I had no idea. My drink was spiked." Angelina suddenly stopped crying, and her furious gaze darted to me. "No you didn't. You low-life!" Before I could say jack, she was upon me on the bed, hitting me at everywhere possible, and dragging my hair. "No. I did not!" Pain exploded across my scalp. My vision turned white as hot tears filled my eyes, but pride kept them from falling. "Angelina. Stop!" they rasped and pulled her away from me. "Leave me. I am calling the police right away," she threatened. "She's not worth it," he whispered, and pulled her into his arms. My heart broke-and this time, I couldn't stop the tears. They rolled freely down my cheeks. "I didn't do it." "Oh, you're still talking?!" Angelina shrieked. He pointed at the door. "Leave before I involve the manager." "Yes. Dress up and get out, you whore!" she spat. Without hesitation, I climbed down from the bed and stepped into my clothes. Never have I felt so ashamed and small. He was at least decent enough to turn around and give me the privacy I needed, his hand still wrapped around Angelina's waist. I finished and scurried to the door. "I'm sorry-" "Get out!" she shrieked. Bowing my head with shame, I ran like never before, without looking back. I jumped into the first taxi I could find, and literally bit down on my lips to keep myself from crying until I was in the safe space of my apartment. I collapsed right in the doorway and let it all out. My phone kept ringing. Ruth. No. I couldn't continue to burden her with my miserable life. First an overdue rent, my father's inherited debts, and now a disgraceful one nightstand with a billionaire. Slowly, I pushed myself back on my feet and gathered all my stuff into a single bag. With one last glance at my apartment, I shut the door and headed out.