Chapter 3

• “This is the venue?” I ask Monique, looking out the tinted window of her Maserati.
• “Yup. Doesn’t look like it, right?” She asks as she unfastens her seatbelt. “The real shit happens at the top. Come on.” She tilts her head to the left as she unlocks the door.
• I expel a breath as I open my side door and step outside. I shut the door after me as I try to balance my clutch under my armpit while pulling down my bodycon dress. Tonight I made sure not to over-dress. I’m wearing a red corset dress, with a Vneck and a spaghetti strap, with matching white heels and a white clutch. Monique wears a strapless dark blue sequin dress that stops mid-thigh. Her black heels are with straps that are perfectly wrapped around her toned legs, matched with a black bag. Her braids are securely wrapped in a perfect bun.
• Damn, she looks really pretty.
• We walk into the lobby side by side as we head to the elevator.
• “Are you nervous?” Monique asks as we ride the elevator.
• “I’m not.” And that’s the truth.
• I’m familiar with parties like this, all thanks to my parents.
• “Great.”
• “Are you gonna get drunk?”
• “Probably.” Monique winks at me.
• “Meaning you’re planning on getting some tonight.”
• “God, you’re smart. You should too.”
• “We’ve been over this topic, Monique. I don’t want a man.”
• “And I get it. Trust me.”
• I turn to look at her. “You do? That’s a first.” I say as I turn to look at my reflection on the elevator wall.
• Monique rolls her eyes at me. “I just mean you should let off some steam tonight. Just tonight. No regrets.”
• “Please don’t tell me this is like a sex party.”
• “It’s not. But rich people are capable of anything.” Monique says with a grin as the elevator opens and we step into a well-lit space.
• This place looks like a club but with fewer lights and colors. There are no strip poles, so definitely it’s not a strip club. There’s a bar at the corner with a counter and barstools where you can sit and order different alcoholic beverages. There are a few couches scattered around with wealthy men and women already occupying them as they talk and laugh.
• There’s a stage and Lora Reign, the RNB pop star, mounts it as she sings into a mic. She looks better than the last time I saw her. Dad brought her to Italy six years ago, during my parents' wedding anniversary.
• “This place is lit,” I mutter.
• “Right?” Monique giggles.
• “You’re a child.” I smile at her.
• She nudges my side. “I’m just glad you like it.”
• “Monique Palmer.” A female voice calls as we turn to the source of the voice.
• It’s a woman, a blonde, actually, dressed in a red floor-length dress with almost half her cleavage popping out. She’s hot. And I feel like she tried too much.
• “Lenore, hi.” The woman wraps her arms around Monique for a brief embrace before they pull apart. She gives Monique a quick once over and smiles.
• “You look stunning. I’m glad Margot invited you tonight. I’m sorry I didn’t invite you myself.”
• Monique waves her off. “It’s okay.”
• The woman turns to look at me, trying to picture me if I belong here or not. I get it, most of the people here are models, actresses, actors, popular and wealthy businessmen and women and I don’t fit into any of the categories.
• “This is my best friend, Robyn. My plus one.”
• “Right. I’ve heard so much about you. I’m Lenore.”
• “Nice to meet you.”
• “The pleasure is all mine.” She gives me a fake smile. What a bitch.
• “Have fun.” Lenore waves at Monique and walks away.
• “What a phony,” I mutter.
• “Yeah, I fucking hate that bitch.” Monique says as she expels her breath. “You wanna go grab a drink?”
• “Yeah,” I say as we walk toward the bar.
• “How did you two know each other?”
• “We work for the same company. Shawty thinks we’re in a competition or some shit.”
• “Damn. That must be hard for you.”
• “It’s not. I just have to avoid her and pretend like she doesn’t even exist. It works well.” Monique says as we both occupy the vacant barstools.
• “What are you getting?” I ask Monique, going through the drink menu.
• “A Negroni.”
• “Great. I’m going with Sex On the Beach. I can’t remember the last time I ever got drunk. I’ve been working my ass off.”
• “Last week.”
• I turn to look at Monique. “What?”
• “You said you can’t remember the last time you got drunk. So I said last week. We got drunk last week.”
• I chuckle. “You’re a bitch.”
• Monique chuckles as she smiles. “And about working your ass off, you need to wind down a little. If you don’t get to secure a spot as a registered nurse at St. José, you could always work someplace else.”
• “It’s not easy. I mean it’s easy but I just love working there.”
• “What are you scared of? You’re good. You’re good with the patients and people love you.”
• “You mean the men love me. The women think I’m a phony. They think I do too much.”
• “They just jealous. You’re pretty, you’re hardworking, you’re easily likable, so they scared. So they go about talking shit just because they are scared of you, sweetheart.” Monique says as she smiles at me. “So I want you to wind down a little. You’re stressing yourself too much.”
• “Thanks. Where’s the bartender anyway?”
• Monique waves at one of the bartenders as he approaches us.
• “Ready to order?” He asks, eyeing me for a quick second before turning to look at Monique.
• “Yeah. One Negroni and One Sex On The Beach. Thank you.” Monique says to the bartender. He nods, eyes me for another second as he walks away to prepare our drinks.
• “Did you see that? The bartender was just eyefucking you.”
• “No, he wasn’t.”
• “Of course, he was. He looked like he wanted to rip your clothes off and eat you. Well, I’ve noticed a few men throw glances at you. You look hot.”
• I glare at Monique. She smiles and giggles.
• “I’m not interested. I’m not ‘getting some’ tonight.”
• “Your loss. There are a lot of hot men tonight. I’ve seen a few.”
• “I wish you luck.”
• The bartender comes back with our drinks and places them in front of us, once again staring at me longer than I’d want.
• “Is there something on my face?” I ask the bartender, grabbing my glass of drink and bringing it to my lips while maintaining eye contact with the bartender.
• He fakes a cough and asks, “What?”
• “I said, is there something on my face? You’ve been staring.”
• The bartender blushes as he rubs his nape. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m just… you look really beautiful.”
• I raise my eyebrows and flash him a small smile. “Thanks.” I pull out my credit card from my purse and give it to him. “For our drinks.”
• “Oh, sure.” He nods once and walks away, looking disappointed.
• “You just hurt his feelings.”
• “Well, fuck you very much,” I say as Monique chuckles, grabbing her drink and taking a sip.
• “I’m gonna be right back. I just sighted someone.” Monique says and stands up. She grabs her glass of drink and scurries away.
• I watch her walk toward a man and a woman who looks like they’re having a friendly chat. The man is definitely trying to coerce the woman into his bed.
• “Your pin, ma’am.” A voice says as I turn around. It’s the bartender, stretching the POS machine at me.
• I input my PIN as he processes my payment and hands me my card.
• “Thank you.” I give him a small smile as he nods and walks away.
• I roll my eyes, opening my purse to toss my debit card in. I take several sips from my drink as I scan the room filled with wealthy people. This party brings back memories, memories I don’t want to remember.
• My eyes fall on a familiar face as I nearly choke on my drink.
• It can’t be.
• I stare harder, trying to lie to myself that there’s no way the universe can make us meet again after I hit his car. But, fuck no. The universe has other plans because he raises his head and our eyes lock for a long second, recognition embracing his facials.
• Fuck. It’s him. It’s definitely him.
• Just when I thought I was going to have a normal life, I hit a rich man’s car and ran away and then I had to run into him at a celebrity’s party.
• Aren’t I the luckiest girl in the world?
• With our eyes still locked in an intense battle, he raises his eyebrows, scowling at me like I’m a rebellious child. I look away, knowing nothing good is going to come out of that look as I throw my head back and gulp my entire drink.
• I need to get out of here.
• “Wow, now slow down, lady.” A masculine voice says beside me. I place my empty glass of drink in front of me and turn toward the source of the voice.
• Omar Sharif. He’s a Hollywood actor, a hotshot for a while until someone new and hotter overtook his throne. He’s dressed in a dark blue suit, brown skin glowing. Well, at least he’s hotter in real life.
• Omar puts up a flirtatious smile that I’m already used to as he stretches his hand to me for a handshake.
• “I’m Omar. Now, who might you be, beautiful lady?”
• I look down at his hand, refusing to shake it. Omar looks disappointed as he pulls his hand away.
• “I’m Robyn.”
• “Robyn.” He tests my name on his tongue as he smirks. “Rare but unique. You look stunning, Robyn.” Omar says, slowly bringing his gaze down my body.
• Fuck, I hate that look.
• I hate it when men look at me like that. There is nothing pure about that look. They’re simply telling you they don’t give a shit about you, they just want you on their sheets. No pun intended.
• What an asshole.
• “What do you want?” I blatantly ask. Omar looks offended as he raises his eyebrows for a second.
• “Um… I don’t think you know who I am.”
• “Omar Sharif. You were Hollywood’s hotshot for a while. Heard you got yourself a Bentley. You won’t even shut up about it on social media. I know you, Omar, I'm just not interested.”
• “You don’t have to be a fucking bitch, you know that?” Now, he’s being paranoid. “You should be lucky I’m here talking to you.”
• “Yeah, because you’re a god and I’m a fucking nobody,” I say with sarcasm. “Kindly fuck off, Mr. Hotshot.” I roll my eyes and look away, turning my head toward the direction I saw him earlier but he’s not there.
• Is my mind playing a trick on me?
• “You’re gonna regret this.” Omar’s voice draws me out of my head as I turn to look at him.
• He stands, giving me a stink eye as he buttons his suit jacket and walks away.
• Yeah, I definitely bruised his ego.
• My eyes meet the bartender from earlier as he looks away, pretending to wipe clean one of the cocktail glasses. I stand up, desperately craving for fresh air, but the last person I expected to be standing in front of me, is standing in front of me, towering over me with his hands in his pants pockets.
• “Look who it is. The car smasher.” He says, with a strange underlying tone that I can’t recognize.
• He gives me a quick once over, bringing his eyes down my body to check me out before he locks eyes with me. His ocean eyes stare into my soul as I look for words. He’s wearing a black custom-made suit paired with a white dress shirt. His skin, golden. His dark brown hair is slicked back, with a few stubborn strands on either side of his perfectly shaped face. I’d be lying if I said this man doesn’t look attractive and good-looking. Right now, he looks like a god, watching me, scrutinizing me.
• “You should close your mouth, anything could sneak in at this point.” Wow, he’s a fucking asshole.
• I clamp my mouth shut, not realizing until he mentioned that I’ve been staring at him with my mouth wide open.
• “Leaving so soon?” He asks, taking his hands out of his pants pockets.
• I open my mouth to say something, but then I decide against it and clamp my mouth shut. Worst case scenario, I’m just going to have to pay for his car that I hit.
• “Not really. I wanted to get fresh air.”
• He nods. “Enjoying the party then?” He asks like we’re friends.
• “I am.”
• “So she can talk? For a second I thought you were mute.” He says. I hate the fact that he’s fucking rude but yet his baritone voice sends chills down my spine.
• “Look, I’m sorry. I know I hit your car but I didn’t mean to run away. I wasn’t looking and I didn’t mean to hit your car.”
• “Twice.”
• “Yeah. I may have not passed my driving lessons.”
• “Right.” He nods once, bringing his eyes down my body for a second before locking eyes with me.
• I do not understand that look. But I’m pretty sure the reason behind his look is not a good one. One look at him from my driver's window earlier today and I know he’s a powerful man. I had to leave the scene of the crime as fast as I could.
• “I’m guessing you didn't think we would ever meet again.” True.
• “Why did you run?” He asks, slipping his hands into his pants pockets.
• “Look, it doesn’t matter. I’m gonna pay for it. If you want, I can send you the money for the cost so you’d understand I’m sincerely sorry.”
• “Alright. It’s $25,000 for the cost. And an extra 10k for repairs.”
• “What?” I want to pull at my hair and yell at him for being annoying.
• I stare at him, with so much anger running through my veins. I’m angry that he has to be so calm and collected while I’m trying so hard not to throw a tantrum. I can’t read his looks because there’s nothing to read. Not one ounce of emotion is sketched on his handsome face. It’s just blank.
• “35k for a scratch?” I’m trying not to yell, but it’s so hard not to when he’s being a jerk on purpose. “Your car wasn’t totaled. It was a scratch, a little scratch and it wasn’t on purpose. There’s no way a scratch would cost $35,000.”
• He expels a breath and takes a step forward until we’re a few inches apart. He looks me in the eye and I don’t back down either, matching his gaze.
• “You know what? Whatever. I don’t have cash with me right now but I can do a transfer.”
• “I don’t need your money, sweetheart.” Sweetheart?
• “You just told me the repairs for your car that I scratched is $35,000.”
• “That’s correct and I’ve fixed it. You’re gonna pay for it but I don’t need your money.”
• Is he kidding me? How the fuck am I supposed to pay for it?
• “Keep it at the back of your mind that you owe me.” He voices out, his voice calm and soothing.
• For the millionth time tonight, he slowly brings his gaze down my body, taking his time. Then slowly he smirks, a reaction I didn’t see coming.
• “Nice dress by the way… Robyn.” Then he winks and walks away, leaving me standing there looking like an idiot and stunned.
• How the fuck did he know my name?