Chapter 4

Lila’s heart pounded as the stranger’s sharp eyes flicked over her, one brow arched like he was solving a puzzle.

He thinks I’m a street girl. That realization hit her like a jolt—and oddly, it was her way in.

If she played this right, this rich guy could be her ticket out. And at least he was cute, her stomach flipping despite herself. If Carla was going to sell her like a cheap toy, then Lila would play the game on her terms.

Then her eyes widened, recognition flooding her.

Nate Cole. One of the wealthiest self-made millionaires in the country. He’d built his fortune importing luxury cars from Germany before branching into construction and other high-stakes investments. She’d watched him on Shark Tank, even celebrated his Forbes cover. Ethan had called him her celebrity crush, and they’d argued more than once because of this very man.

This wasn’t just any man. This man had money. If anyone could hand her fifty grand, it was Nate Cole.

“Did you get hurt?” he asked, snapping her back to reality.

“I’m fine,” Lila murmured, struggling to rise.

“Let me take you to the hospital,” he said, gesturing toward his car.

She hesitated.

His expression cooled. “Alright, I get it,” he said flatly. “I’ve seen this before. If you won’t get in, sign this—” he pulled out a slip of paper “—saying you won’t sue me for anything.”

“Nate,” she said suddenly, using his name. “I need fifty thousand dollars. I’ll do anything for it. Anything. Even give my life. Just… help me.”

He froze. His eyes locked on hers like he’d seen a ghost.

“Elise…” he breathed. “What the hell?”

She saw the storm behind his eyes—confusion, grief, something deeper. He had buried Elise. He’d attended her funeral.

Without another word, he grabbed her arm and pushed her gently into the car.

The leather interior was warm against her soaked clothes, rainwater seeping into the seats. He didn’t even flinch. She stole a glance at his chiseled jaw, his tailored suit, his quiet command.

This might actually work, she thought.

At the hospital, doctors treated her for shock, but the main advice was to get dry and warm. Nate waited quietly, but when they left and pulled up to an extravagant hotel—gleaming marble floors, chandeliers like stars—she knew he had heard her plea.

Her wet sneakers squeaked across the lobby floor as her reflection in the mirrors screamed out of place. Still, she walked beside him, heart thudding, nerves twisting.

At the front desk, a perky receptionist lit up. “Good evening, Mr. Cole!” her name tag read Clara. “Your suite’s ready—fresh sheets and all!”

She was practically glowing. Lila rolled her eyes inwardly. Please, girl, keep your cool.

“Thanks, Clara,” he said smoothly. “Call me Nate.” He winked.

Lila snorted to herself. Total player.

Clara giggled like a schoolgirl. Nate led Lila toward the elevator, and her stomach somersaulted with every step.

This is it, she told herself. Fifty grand or nothing. Sink or swim.

The hotel suite was pure opulence—white couches, golden fixtures, a room straight out of a movie. She clutched her soggy bag like a lifeline.

“Relax,” Nate said, kicking off his shoes. “No one’s stealing your junk.”

He tossed her a towel. “You need a shower. Go clean up.”

The bathroom looked like a royal spa—golden tiles, fluffy robes, scented soaps that probably cost more than her rent.

Lila stood frozen, heart pounding. What am I doing? She was about to sell herself for money. Just like Carla tried to do—but this time, it was her choice.

“Hey!” Nate called from outside. “I don’t hear water. What’s the holdup?”

The door creaked open. Nate stepped in, frowning. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I… don’t know how to use the tub,” she admitted, cheeks flaming. The knobs and dials looked like spaceship controls.

He sighed, stepped close, and reached past her to turn the water on. His arm brushed hers, sparking something electric.

“Have fun, princess,” he said with a teasing grin before stepping out.

Once alone, Lila peeled off her wet clothes and sank into the warm water. It washed away the cold, the grime—and some of the shame.

But her thoughts spiraled. You’re just like Carla… using someone for money. The guilt stung, but this was her only way out. Better this than being married off to Mr. Watkins.

After the bath, she wrapped herself in a robe and caught her reflection. She didn’t look broken anymore. She looked… determined.

“Don’t fool yourself,” she whispered. “You’re selling yourself for cash. Fifty grand. What are you doing, Lila?”

She stepped out. Nate sat on the bed, shirtless, every inch a magazine cover.

“Come here,” he said, voice low, controlled. Her feet wobbled as she walked closer.

He grabbed her hand, pulled her forward—and in one swift move, tossed her onto the bed. She lay breathless, staring up at him. Close. Too close.

“You still playing shy?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “Some guys love that act. I don’t. I saw you checking me out.”

“I…” Her voice broke. Fear and adrenaline surged through her, but so did something darker—excitement.

“I’m not kissing you,” he said firmly. “This is just a deal, yeah?” His lips brushed her ear, and her body lit up.

“Right,” she whispered. “Just a deal.”

He doesn’t care about you. And you don’t care about him. She repeated it like a mantra.

But then his face changed. The flirtation slipped, replaced by something tender. Haunted.

“Elise…” he murmured, barely audible. “Baby…”

Lila froze.

Before she could speak, he kissed her. Fierce. Hungry. Consuming. Her breath caught. For a second, she wanted to fall into it.

But then—You said no kissing.

She pushed him away, gasping. “You said no kissing!”

Nate blinked, breath heavy, gaze dazed.

“Who is Elise?” she asked softly.

He cupped her face, but his eyes hardened. Cold.

Then—

Bang! Bang!

A loud, violent knock.

“Lila!” Carla’s voice screamed through the door. “You little brat, I know you’re in there! Open this door, or I swear I’ll drag you out myself!”

Lila turned to the door, blood draining from her face.

This moment—this fragile, impossible moment—was about to collapse