"Shh, my head." Phoebe massaged her throbbing temples. Feeling a stifling heat, she instinctively kicked off duvet, only to be met by a sudden, biting chill that swept over her skin.
"Ah!" a sharp gasp escaped her. Her eyes flew open as she realized she was completely bare. Stunned, she stole a quick glance under the sheets to confirm her fears, and her breath hitched. It was true.
"Finally awake, I see?"
The deep, gravelly voice sliced through the silence. Phoebe's head snapped toward the sound. In the corner of the room, sitting leisurely on a leather sofa, was the man. His gaze was fixed on her, heavy and unreadable. As he stood up, his presence seemed, to shrink the room.
His eyes raked over her, heavy, and unreadable prompting Phoebe to clutch the silk duvet against her chest, her knuckles turning white. "I thought you weren't going to wake up on your own," he remarked, his tone vibrating with authority. "I was just about to call an ambulance, if you stayed under much longer."
"Who are you? And what are you doing here?!" Phoebe demanded. Her memory was a blurred haze, but her nudity told a story she wasn't ready to accept. "Where are my clothes?"
"Your clothes were … past saving," he replayed casually. He gestured toward a nearby table. "I've had new ones prepared. Everything you need is there."
Phoebe wanted to bolt, but her pride pinned her to the spot. "Don't you dare look at me. Turn around and close your eyes!" Phoebe commanded, her voice regaining its sharp edge.
A slow, dangerous smirk played on his lips. He didn't move. "Actually, I don't see the need to close my eyes. I've already seen everything. And I must say, you have a magnificent body."
"Arh! Fuck it! Go to hell!"
Phoebe didn't wait another second. Wrapped in the duvet like a shroud, she snatched the clothes and retreated to the bathroom. The silk felt expensive—to expensive. This isn't just anyone, she thought, looking the designer tag in the mirror. But she didn't care. She composed herself, donned the dress, and stepped out with her "Queen" mask firmly back in place.
The man turned, his eyes raking over her. She looked even more breathtaking than he had imagined when he picked the dress. He stepped closer, swirling the liquid in his crystal glass.
"The fit is perfect, isn't?"
Phoebe ignored the trivial question. "How much is your rate for the night?"
The question caught the man off guard. A stunned silence followed. "Do you truly believe I am some hired escort who spend his nights entertaining drunken women?"
"More or less, " Phoebe replied indifferently, barely acknowledging how devastatingly handsome he looked.
The man laughed, a short, dry sound. He felt a sting of insult, yet the attraction he felt for this woman only intensified. He held out this hand, expecting a formal introduction. "Raymond Rodriguez."
Phoebe scanned him from head to toe. The watch, the suit, the aura … he was dripping in luxury. He clearly wasn't a gigolo, but Phoebe wasn't in the mood to be impressed.
"Your name?" he prompted. "I think we should get to know each other. I'd like to prove I'm not a 'paid man'. In fact, if you wish, I could make this entire establishment yours."
Phoebe exhaled sharply. She realized she had nothing, no cash, no phone. She was stuck with nothing but the jewelry on her body. Raymond was still waiting for a handshake, his hand outstretched.
Instead of taking it, Phoebe reached for her ear. With a cold, metallic click, she unfastened her heavy diamond earring and dropped it into his open palm.
Raymond's brow furrowed as he stared at the glittering stone in his hand instead of the soft touch he had expected.
"I don't have cash on me, and I don't know where my phone is," Phoebe said cooly." Consider that more than enough to pay for your time and the 'service' you provided last night."
Raymond's grip tightened on the diamond. "I'm not a paid man. Usually, I'm the one paying woman just to hear them scream melodiously while I take my pleasure."
"Whatever," Phoebe cut him off, unfazed by his dark boast. "I don't have time for this I'm leaving!" She straightened her hair and walked past him, her steps still slightly heavy from the hangover, but her posture resolute.
Raymond didn't chase her. Instead, he watching her retreat, a slow, predatory smile carving its way onto his face as he looked at the diamond earring.
"Most women do everything to sleep with me, hoping a payout," he murmured to the empty room. "And yet, she proudly pays me?"
He pulled out his phone and made a call. "Find out everything about the girl from last night, now!"
"Understood Boss!"