. I hated it. I hated the desperate place I was in, the way I was forced to consider something I

e partners, supposedly trusted friends, swooped in. They used my disgrace, the "cyberbully" scandal, as leverage, claiming my reputation had damaged the company's standing. They bought out my shares for pennies on

d to a shark. I couldn't afford to be squeamish. Not anymore. I had to be s

lighting, the pulsating bass of the music, the clinking of glasses – it was a familiar environment, a carefu

weary cynicism, met me at the staff entrance. She held a garmen

replied, my

garment bag into my hands. "Change into this. And remember, Elle, anything he asks, wi

gown in a deep emerald green, with a plunging neckline and a dangerously high slit. It was

barely a whisper. "This... t

ric. He likes a certain... aesthetic. And he specifically requested you. Said he saw you on the floor last week and was 'captivated by your resilience.'" She gave me

cold shower. Jalen. My resolve hardened. "Fin

solely here for the client's entertainment and comfort. He's harmless, mostly. Just... particular. And wealthy enough to indulge every whim." She

merald dress clung to every curve, making me feel exposed, vulnerable. It wasn't me. Not the Elle who stu

could breathe a little easier, know that I was one step closer to getting Jal

like a second skin. Brenda was waiting outside. She gave me a once-over, a critica

e was silent, the anticipation building in my chest. What kind of "unconventional requests" awaited me

e cologne. Soft jazz played from unseen speakers. The room was dimly lit, bathed in the warm glow of strategically place

en I s

e couches, laughing and sipping champagne, were two of Aspen Watkins's closest friends from college – the very same ones who had testified against me, corroborating Aspen's lies about the cyberbullying.

his wasn't just a jo