Nelly's eyes opened to the soft buzzing of her phone.
Her mind felt fuzzy as she tried to recollect what had happened. The soft fragrance of her room stopped her from wandering too far. She turned slowly. Her lampshade. Her art collection on the wall. It truly was her room.
Zzz.
Her phone buzzed again.
She pushed her hand weakly toward it—then froze. A drip needle sat taped to her skin, a thin tube trailing up to a bag hanging beside her bed.
What's going on?
Panic flickered through her chest.
"Hello, Mom." Her voice came out weaker than she intended.
"Hi, my dear. How are you?"
"I'm fine, Ma."
"I've been trying to reach you since Friday. How did the interview go?"
Friday. Nelly's chest tightened. "It was fine, Ma." The lie slid out smooth, but her stomach churned.
"Okay. Hope you're going to church today."
Church. Nelly blinked. Is today Sunday? She did the math slowly, the numbers slipping and rearranging in her fogged mind. I slept an entire day?
"Yes, Ma. I'll call you when I get back."
She ended the call and sat up carefully, waiting for the room to stop swaying. Memories trickled back in fragments: the club, Amanda, the stranger with the dangerous smile. Dancing. Falling.
I passed out.
She swung her legs over the bed, wincing as her feet touched the floor. Standing took more effort than it should have.
The door swung open before she reached it—and then she couldn't breathe.
Amanda had pulled her into a tight embrace, mashing Nelly's face into her chest. Same as always.
"Can't... breathe..." Nelly's voice came out muffled.
"Sorry, my dear!" Amanda released her, beaming. "I've been so worried."
Nelly opened her mouth to respond, then stopped. A rich, savory aroma drifted from the kitchen. Her stomach growled.
She frowned at Amanda. "You don't cook. And I don't cook. So who—" Her eyes narrowed. "Amanda. We agreed. No sleepovers."
Amanda giggled. Nelly hated that giggle. It meant trouble.
"This one isn't for me," Amanda said.
"Is it Danny?" Nelly's brother was the only person their mother would send to check on her. Though he'd never spend the night—not with Amanda here.
"Nope." Amanda's grin widened. "Go see."
Nelly sighed and headed for the kitchen. The aroma grew stronger with each step. *Damn, whoever this is can actually cook.*
She pushed the door open.
"What the hell."
---
Lucky Dante did not spend nights in random places. His penthouse above the club waited for him always—custom-made, perfectly suited to his tastes.
But he never left a damsel in distress. Even one who'd slapped him before fainting in his arms.
When he'd carried her to Amanda's car, the model had grabbed his shirt as he tried to leave. So he'd followed. Stayed. Called a doctor.
Now he stood in their kitchen, shirtless because the heat was ridiculous and cooking without one was more comfortable, preparing a meal and hoping the strange girl would wake up soon.
He had questions.
The door slammed open.
"What are you doing here?" Nelly's voice could have cut glass.
Lucky smiled. "I'm surprised that's the first thing you say to me."
"Were you expecting something else?"
"Nothing, nothing." He flipped something in the pan. "Maybe a thank you? For bringing you home? Calling a doctor? Checking on you?"
She studied his face, searching for a lie. He held her gaze easily.
"I didn't know you did any of that." Her voice softened, just slightly. "Thank you. But I'm fine now. You can leave."
"Trust me, I wasn't expecting anything." He touched his cheek, where a faint red mark still lingered. "Not after the stunt you pulled."
She flushed. Her eyes drifted—just for a second—to his bare chest. Then snapped back up.
He smirked. "Still, I've seen ladies do a lot to get my attention. Pretending to faint, though? That's a new one."
"You're impossible." She slammed the door shut.
In the living room, Nelly found Amanda lounging on the couch, looking far too pleased with herself.
"Get him to leave."
"Come on, be nice. He's making us breakfast."
Nelly's stomach chose that moment to rumble. Loudly.
"Fine." She jabbed a finger toward the kitchen. "He leaves after breakfast." She spun and disappeared into her room.
---
Twenty minutes later, four chairs surrounded a circular table in the corner of the large living room. Only one sat empty.
Amanda, radiant in a red kaftan, her gold-tinted hair catching the morning light, occupied the seat closest to the kitchen. Across from her, Lucky leaned back with the easy confidence of a man who belonged anywhere he pleased.
Nelly slid into the remaining chair and stared at her plate. The food looked incredible. She hated that it looked incredible.
"So." Amanda beamed at Lucky. "I'll speak for both of us. Your food is delicious."
"Why thank you." Lucky forked a piece of egg. "Mama's boy, born and bred."
"I have my own mouth," Nelly muttered.
She pulled out her phone and began scrolling. Random videos. Spam emails. Anything to avoid watching Amanda giggle like a teenager with her first crush.
Zzz.
A new email notification. She almost ignored it—then froze.
Akor Corp.
She opened it. Read it. Read it again.
"Is this a joke?" The words came out strangled.
"What happened, my love?" Amanda leaned forward.
Nelly couldn't speak. She just passed the phone across the table.
Amanda's face shifted from curiosity to disbelief to rage in three seconds flat. "Are they serious? Is he seriously still messing with you?" She slammed her fist on the table. Glasses jumped.
"I'm missing something," Lucky said mildly.
Amanda shoved the phone toward him. On the screen, an email glowed:
---
Dear Applicant,
You have been offered the role of Data Analyst at Akor Corp. Kindly respond to this email if you wish to accept.
---
Nelly stared at the words until they blurred.
Kelvin Akor. Offering me the job. After what happened.
Her hands began to shake.
Across the table, Lucky read the email in silence. When he looked up, something flickered in his dark eyes—too quick to name.
"Well," he said quietly. "Isn't that interesting?"