CHAPTER 1
Olivia
My body is taut with exhaustion, the sun causing sweat to trickle down my skin. I never imagined this would be my reality—juggling between jobs that are barely enough to survive. Nothing has been the same since their passing.
"You're back home early. What's wrong?" I hear Maya's voice from the bathroom.
"I got fired from work for no reason at all—other than 'orders from above,'" I reply, making my way to the bed.
"What the hell does that even mean? There's no 'order from above' coming to that run-down accounting firm," Maya says, laughing.
"It's not funny. I really needed that job. Being jobless is the last thing I can afford right now."
"I know, chiquita. Sorry about that," she says, pulling me into a hug.
"Did you wash your hands?"
"No."
"That's gross, man. I really don't know what's wrong with you."
"You still love me either way," she says matter-of-factly.
"On a serious note, I need to get a job now. We can't let your father pay the house rent every single time. It was supposed to be different this time around."
"He doesn't mind at all," Maya says, trying to reassure me.
Knowing Mr. Brown, he wouldn't complain. Ever since my parents died, Maya's parents have treated me like a daughter—something I'll forever be grateful for.
A certain name lingers in my mind.
"I could go to Grandma Anna," the voice in my head pushes me to say out loud before I can stop myself.
"Grandma Anna? Your grandmother, to be precise—the same one who cut your father off for marrying your mother against her wishes just because of her poor background? And after your parents died, she suddenly shows up to tell you you're to be engaged, then proceeds to blacklist you for refusing?" Maya replies hotly, pacing across the room.
"It was a foolish thought. I know that now."
"It's going to be fine. We'll sort out your situation later. But right now, we're going to a club—I need inspiration for my show."
"How thoughtful of you," I deadpan
"It sucks that you're rich, yet here you are."
"Hey, what do you mean by that?" I fire back, narrowing my eyes at her.
Maya doesn't even bother answering at first. She just stares at me while undressing, completely unbothered. "Never mind. What are you wearing?"
I blink at her. "So this whole strip tease was just to ask me a question?"
She smirks, tossing a dress onto the bed.
"I'm trying to set the mood for you to bag a rich guy tonight."
"I don't need a rich guy."
"Correction—you need money. A rich guy is just a convenient solution."
I scoff. "You're unbelievable."
"And you're broke," she shoots back easily.
"Let me help you fix at least one of your problems tonight."
"I am not going to a club to 'fix my problems.'"
"No, you're going because you've been sulking all day, and I refuse to live with a sad version of you."
I hesitate, folding my arms. "And what exactly is your plan for me in this club?"
Maya grins, eyes sparkling with mischief, I'm already regretting why I even asked in the first place "Simple. You wear something dangerously pretty, walk in like you own the place, and let the night surprise you."
"That sounds like a terrible plan."
"It's the only plan you've got," she shrugs. Then, eyeing me critically, she adds, "Also, you're not wearing that. You look like you're going to a job interview."
"I would be, if I still had a job."
"Exactly why we're fixing your energy tonight," she says, pushing a dress into my hands. "Go on. Try it."
I glance down at the dress, then back at her. "If this goes wrong, I'm blaming you."
Maya laughs. "If it goes right, you'll be thanking me."
What is wrong with her? I honestly don't know. Maya has always been the carefree one between the two of us—bold, loud, and completely unfiltered, might I add - doesn't give a fuck.
And somehow, she always drags me into her chaos, which sometimes I want to steer clear of.