Chapter 3

I leaned against the marble wall, my palm burning with excruciating pain. Looking down, tiny glass shards were still embedded in my flesh.

"Vivian."

Carter's heavy footsteps echoed behind me.

I didn't turn around. "Something else, Mr. Hayes? If you're looking for that monthly package, please take it up with the front desk."

He stepped in front of me, blocking my path, his gaze an unreadable storm. "Was what you said in there true?"

"I have the voice memo saved on my phone. Want to hear it?" I unlocked my screen. "Though, listening to it will cost you another three grand. Strictly business, no credit."

Carter stared at me for a long time. Suddenly, a dry, humorless chuckle escaped his lips.

"You've changed, Vivian."

"People change," I said, putting my phone away. "Haven't you changed, too? Back then, you hesitated to buy a two-dollar bottle of water. Now, you smash thousand-dollar bottles of wine on the floor just to humiliate people. Having money is great, isn't it?"

He went dead silent.

I stepped around him, heading for the staff elevator.

"I heard about your father," his voice came from behind me, tight and strained. "Back then, if only..."

"There are no 'what ifs'," I cut him off, not bothering to look back. "Carter, let the past stay dead. You're the billionaire CEO of Hayes Enterprises, and I'm a club hostess. We're even."

"Even?!" His voice dropped to a dangerous rasp. "How could we ever be even for what you did to me?!"

I stopped, turned around, and looked right into his eyes.

"What do I owe you, Carter? Youth? Love? Don't be so childish. I dumped you seven years ago, and I own that. But today, I don't owe you a single damn thing."

"Then why are you working in a dump like this?!" he demanded, his voice cracking with frustration. "With your education and talent, you could easily—"

"Easily what?" I laughed bitterly. "Apply for a desk job at your company? Don't make me laugh, Mr. Hayes. We don't walk the same path. We didn't back then, and we sure as hell don't now."

I tugged at the thin strap of my revealing dress. "See this? This is the path I chose. I made bad choices, and I'm paying for them. But you have no right to look down on me. Because..."

I stepped right into his space, dropping my voice to a sharp whisper:

"When your lovely fiancée begged me to carry your baby, she looked a thousand times more pathetic than I ever will. At least I've never dropped to my knees to beg."

Carter's face turned completely gray.

Satisfied, I turned and walked away. This time, he didn't follow.

The next morning, gossip about the incident had already spread like wildfire through the club.

My general manager called me into his office, looking grim. "Vivian, do you have any idea who Carter Hayes is?"

"I do," I replied flatly. "CEO of Hayes Enterprises, net worth in the billions, our biggest potential corporate client."

"And you still dared to humiliate him in front of his peers?!"

"He humiliated me first."

The manager let out a long sigh. "I know you've got pride, Vivian, but pride doesn't pay the medical bills. Mr. Hayes called this morning. He specifically requested your exclusive presence in his private suite tonight."

I raised my head. "I'm not going."

"Not going?" The manager slid an envelope across the mahogany desk. "This is a fifteen-thousand-dollar cash advance from Mr. Hayes. Just show up tonight, and it's yours. What's more, he said if you serve him tonight, he'll sign our three-million-dollar annual corporate membership."

I stared at the thick envelope.

Fifteen thousand dollars.

My mother's psychiatric care fees for next month were due in three days. Exactly fifteen thousand.

"Vivian, I know about your mother's condition," the manager's tone softened. "In this city, you have to learn when to swallow your pride."

I stared at the envelope for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, my trembling fingers reached out and picked it up.

"What time?"

"Eight tonight. The usual suite."

At eight o'clock sharp, I pushed open the heavy doors of VIP Suite 8 once more.

This time, Carter was the only person inside.

He sat casually on the leather couch, an uncorked bottle of Domaine de la Romanée-Conti sitting on the marble table.