Chapter 3 A Gigolo

• Narrator
• Countryside Bar.
• Serena slumped over the bar, empty bottles lined up in front of her like trophies of her downfall.
• She blinked slowly, the world revolving as she reached for another drink, but her fingers barely wrapped around the glass before she let out a breathless laugh.
• The last time she had alcohol was on her 18th birthday. She had been pressured into drinking back then, bullied into taking her first shot.
• She was never the alcohol type.
• "Good girls don’t drink," she had told herself for years.
• But what was the point of being good if life still threw her away like trash?
• She laughed again, the sound dry and hollow.
• "Infertile, huh?"
• She clutched her stomach, her vision blurring.
• "Thrown out."
• Her laugh came out sharper this time, bitter.
• Her mind replayed the scene—George standing there with that smug look, Sophia leaning into him, her mother-in-law tossing money at her like she was nothing.
• She squeezed her eyes shut.
• "He never loved me."
• Her throat tightened, and suddenly, everything inside her twisted. Her stomach churned.
• She was going to throw up.
• Serena wobbled to her feet, gripping the edge of the bar for support. "Restroom," she muttered, fumbling in her bag for cash. She slapped a bill on the counter, blinking up at the bartender. "Where is the restroom?"
• The bartender, a middle-aged man with a gruff face, looked at the money and then at her. His mouth pressed into a line before he turned to the younger bartender beside him.
• “She’s been spending all night,” the older bartender muttered under his breath.
• The younger one chuckled, shaking his head. “Rich girl problems.”
• Serena heard them, but she didn’t care.
• "Restroom," she repeated, her voice unsteady.
• The older bartender sighed and jerked his head toward the back. "Down the hall, second door on the right."
• Serena nodded and pushed herself forward, one shaky step at a time.
• Serena staggered down the dimly lit hallway, her vision unfocused as she counted the doors. Second door on the right. Or was it the third?
• Her fingers fumbled with the handle, and she pushed inside without a second thought, too drunk to realize the room was much too spacious to be a public restroom.
• She barely registered the luxurious interior, the soft glow of ambient lighting, or the faint scent of expensive cologne. The only thing on her mind was making it to the bathroom before she collapsed.
• The moment she found it, she rushed in, gripping the sink as her stomach churned. Moments later, she threw up everything she had consumed.
• She groaned, splashing cold water on her face, her mind spinning. What a night.
• After a deep breath, she steadied herself and pushed the bathroom door open—only to freeze.
• Standing before her was a tall man, broad-shouldered, his muscular torso glistening slightly with moisture. A white towel hung loosely around his waist, and his damp dark hair dripped onto his sharp, chiseled features.
• His gaze locked onto her, a mix of confusion and disbelief flickering in his deep, stormy eyes.
• Serena blinked at him, unfazed.
• Her hazy mind pieced things together in the most absurd way possible.
• A ridiculously handsome man. In a towel. In a private suite.
• She scoffed. "Wow… they really do look this good in real life."
• Adam Black, the richest billionaire in town—the famous "Grumpy Black"—stood speechless for the first time in his life.
• His jaw tensed as he processed her words.
• Did she just…
• Serena sighed, pulling out a handful of cash from her bag, slowly . She tossed it onto the bed before turning back to him, her eyes slightly glassy.
• “I don’t care how much you charge," she said, her voice slightly slurred but laced with determination. "Make me pregnant, make me moan ,Fuck me hard."
• Adam’s brows shot up, his lips parting, but no words came out.
• No one had ever mistaken him for a gigolo.
• Ever.
• For the first time, the mighty Adam Black was utterly and completely speechless.
• Serena took a slow step toward him, her bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. The alcohol in her system made her bold—reckless even. She tilted her head, her lips curling into a small, knowing smirk.
• "You don’t talk much, huh?" she mused, letting her gaze trail over his toned chest sprawled with tattoos. "I like that."
• Adam Black—one of the most powerful men in the city—stood frozen, watching her with narrowed eyes. His grip tightened around the towel at his waist, but he didn’t move.
• Serena mistook his silence for hesitation.
• She reached out, her fingers grazing his firm chest, her touch featherlight. His skin was warm, solid beneath her fingertips.
• "You’re expensive, aren’t you?" she murmured, running her nails down, tracing the defined lines of his abs. "That’s why you’re in a private suite. Only the best for rich women, I bet."
• Adam’s jaw clenched.
• He could have stopped her. One word, and she would have known who he really was.
• But for some reason—maybe amusement, maybe curiosity—he didn’t.
• He let her believe it.
• Serena exhaled, her warm breath fanning against his skin. "I don’t care how much it costs," she whispered, her fingers slipping lower almost touching his manhood. "Just do your job."
• Adam’s lips twitched. This woman…
• "You sure you can handle it?" he finally spoke, his voice low, rough.
• Serena grinned, unbothered by his arrogant tone. "I’m paying, aren’t I?"
• Adam chuckled, the sound deep and dark. He leaned down slightly, his face inches from hers.
• "Then let’s see if you get your money’s worth."
• "You’re playing with fire," Adam murmured, his voice a deep rumble.
• Serena tilted her chin up. "Maybe I want to get burned."
• A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips. "You don’t know what you’re asking for, sweetheart."
• "Then show me," she challenged, stepping closer until she could feel the heat radiating from his bare skin.
• Adam let out a low chuckle, his hand sliding to the back of her neck, fingers threading through her hair. He tugged just enough to tilt her head back, exposing the soft curve of her throat. His lips brushed against her skin, teasing, barely touching, but enough to send a shiver down her spine.
• "You smell like trouble," he murmured against her pulse.
• Serena let out a breathy laugh, gripping onto his towel as if to keep herself steady. "And you smell like expensive whiskey and bad decisions."
• Adam’s chuckle turned into a low, approving growl. "Then we’re a perfect match."
• Before she could say anything else, he closed the distance, his lips capturing hers in a slow, deep kiss—one that stole the air from her lungs and left her melting against him.
• And Adam ? He made sure she never forgot the night.