Chapter 4

Proposition

(Layla)

I turned Samuel’s card over in my hands like I had been doing for the last hour. I sat on my bed, staring at the elegant black lettering until it blurred.

Call if you need anything. Money, protection—whatever.

The implications made my stomach knot. One night of angry, drunken revenge was one thing, but this…this would be calculated. Deliberate.

My phone screen lit up: HOSPITAL BILLING.

I ignored it and walked to my closet. If I was going to do this, I’d do it right. The red dress hung at the very back, tags still attached. I’d bought it months ago for a pack formal that I’d never been able to attend, before Mason had crushed my heart.

Tears spilled down my cheeks as I yanked it off the hanger. How has my life come to this? From respected Beta to potential mistress in less than a week.

“I am sorry, Mom,” I whispered, unzipping the dress. “I never wanted this.”

The silk slid cool against my skin. Perfect fit. The neckline dipped low, the hemline rode high. Exactly what you’d expect from someone selling themselves.

My makeup bag spilled across the bathroom counter. Foundation to hide the dark circles under my eyes. Mascara, eyeliner, red lipstick I’d never dared wear as Beta.

“You can do this,” I said to myself. “For Mom.”

But my hands shook so badly I had to redo my eyeliner three times.

The dress felt too tight, too revealing as I stood under the harsh bathroom lights. I grabbed a tissue, ready to wipe off the makeup, change into something more modest.

My phone rang again. Hospital.

“Damn it.” I snatched it up. “Hello?”

“Miss Wilkes, this is your final warning. Payment is due by—”

I ended the call, gripping the counter hard until my hands hurt. No more running. No more pride.

The blow dryer roared to life. I styled my hair in loose waves, the way I’d seen Abigail wear hers at formal events. A spritz of perfume—the expensive bottle I’d been saving for special occasions.

Special occasions. Like becoming someone’s dirty secret.

My eyes welled as fresh tears threatened. I blinked them back, careful not to smear my mascara. Crying wouldn’t pay bills or save my mother.

My reflection stared back, a stranger in red silk and black heels. She looked stylish. Desirable.

Empty.

I grabbed my phone, punching in Samuel’s number before I lost my nerve.

Two rings. Then a young voice said: “Hello?”

My heart stopped. A child?

“What business do you have with my dad?”

Dad. The words nearly knocked the air out of my lungs. Samuel had a daughter. I was dressed like this, planning to propose a father?

“Hello?” The girl sounded annoyed now. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, I—”

“Annie, give me the phone.” Samuel’s deep voice cut in. Rustling sounds, then: “This is Samuel.”

My throat closed up. What was I doing?

“It’s Layla,” I managed. “From the bar.”

Across the line, nobody spoke. I could hear my heart beat in the silence.

“Meet me at Moon Creek Diner in an hour,” he said finally.

“I—”

The line went dead.

I stared at my phone, then back at my reflection. A father. I was dressed like this to seduce someone’s father.

More tears spilled. I grabbed another tissue, dabbing carefully under my eyes. The red dress suddenly felt garish, obvious. Everyone would know why I was wearing it. Why I was meeting him.

But I couldn’t change now. Couldn’t risk losing this chance at helping my mother.

I reapplied my lipstick, hands steadier now. One hour to steel my nerves. One hour to lock away what remained of my self-respect.

I drove silently to Moon Creek Dine, trying to keep my tears at bay. It wouldn't ruin my makeup now.

I parked around back, not wanting to be recognized. Every step in these heels felt like another nail in my coffin.

Through the window, I spotted Samuel in a corner booth. Even in casual clothes, he oozed power. Authority. The kind of man who could destroy someone like me without a second thought.

My legs wobbled as I approached his table. His eyes flicked up, his face unreadable.

“Sit,” he ordered, gesturing to the seat across from him.

I slid into the booth, crossing my legs like I’d practiced. Like this was just another business meeting. Like I wasn’t about to offer myself as his mistress.

Samuel sat across from me, his mere presence sending butterflies fluttering through my stomach. The memory of our night together flashed unbidden—his hands gripping my waist, teeth at my throat.

I stared at my water glass, unable to meet his piercing golden eyes.

“You cleaned up nicely,” he remarked.

My cheeks went hot and I took a drink of water to keep him from noticing. This was it. Time to discover just how far I’d fallen.

“Thank y—”

“Did you sleep with me to get back at Mason?” he asked bluntly.

No point lying. “Yes.”

“At least you’re honest.” He leaned back, arms crossed. “So why call me now?”

“I need money. My mother’s treatments—”

“I know about your mother’s situation.” He cut me off. “Claire Wilkes, isn’t it?”

“Yes, I—” He cut me off again.

“I also know Mason blacklisted you from every decent job in the territory.”

“How did you—”

“I make it my business to know things.” He paused as the waitress refilled our water. “I might have a solution.”

My pulse quickened. Here it comes.

“I need someone at my house five days a week,” he said. “The pay is good, including benefits.”

“Your house?” I gripped my glass tighter. “But your daughter…”

He raised an eyebrow. “What about her?”

“Wouldn’t it be inappropriate? Having your…” I swallowed hard. “Your mistress there?”

Samuel stared at me for a long moment, then laughed. “When did I ever say I wanted you as my mistress?”

“But then…” My cheeks went even hotter than ever. I knew the color was high in my face. “What would I be doing at your house?”