THE PRICE OF A SINGLE
NIGHT
SOLINE'S POV
I didn't sleep that night. I sat on the edge of my bed in the dark, with my knees pulled up. My phone buzzes every few minutes with unknown numbers and notifications. I didn't open any of them. I already knew what they said.
The post on the gossip blog had spread like wildfire: one image of us kissing on the balcony, and another blurry image of me leaving Drayce Tower in my wrinkled clothes, and slightly messy hair. My face was too clear to deny it was me.
They hadn't used my name yet, but it was only a matter of time. My account was flooded with messages. People from college, strangers, trolls. One message from Mavryn, my ex, asking if I'd really slept my way into a job. But I didn't answer him.
Caelon, my childhood best friend, also called me. I managed to pick him up, but I just cut him off when he was about to bring the discussion up. We talked about a few other things before hanging up.
By morning, I hadn't eaten or showered. I just stared at the screen, trying to figure out how to undo what had already been done. I didn't even know what the job really was, or who Zayven Drayce really was, until I walked into his penthouse.
And now the world thought I was his mistress, or worse, someone planted by a rival.
Around nine, my phone rang again, but this time it was an unknown number that didn't give up after two rings.
I answered. A woman spoke sharply, saying she was from Drayce Global's PR department. She told me to come back to the tower immediately, through the service entrance.
"You've caused a disruption," she said coldly, "and Mr. Drayce wants it handled."
I asked what that meant, but she just said, "You'll be briefed. Come now and don't talk to anyone."
Then she hung up.
I threw on the same clothes from yesterday, grabbed my sketchbook, and left without makeup or breakfast. Without a clue of what waited for me.
The service elevator smelled like bleach. A security guard met me at the top, then walked me through a side hallway, and opened the door to a private conference room. Zayven was already there. So was a tall woman in a gray dress suit.
Zayven didn't look at me, he just tapped his pen on the table. The woman spoke first. Her name was Lissa.
She explained the protocol, how the media had picked up the story, how their legal team would be handling it. Then she handed me a document.
"Sign this," she said. "It's a reinforced NDA. If you speak to any press outlet, or leak any internal details, you will be prosecuted."
I didn't reach for it. I looked at him instead, but he was silent, with his eyes on his phone.
I then asked if I'd done something wrong. But Lissa snapped, "You entered a confidential space. That's a breach of policy."
I looked at him again. Still, he wasn't saying anything. "But you didn't chase me away when you saw me." I even tried to leave, but you told me not to, I said, almost yelling.
Still, he didn't move. Lissa narrowed her eyes. "We'll compensate you for the inconvenience and terminate the contract. ""You'll be paid through the end of the month, then you'll disappear quietly, and this will be over." She slid a check across the table. It was a ten-thousand dollar check.
My chest burned, I picked up the check, folded it, and looked at him one last time. He still didn't say a word.
I stood up, walked to the door, and opened it. Before leaving, I turned and said, "You could've told the truth."
He finally looked up. "The truth changes nothing," he said.
Without another word, I left. But the elevator stopped before I reached the lobby. The doors opened to the executive floor. A man stepped in. He was young, maybe in his thirties, with tanned skin, sandy hair, blue eyes. He smiled politely. "You're the girl from the painting," he said.
I stared at him confused, "I'm sorry?" He offered a hand.
"I'm Drenvek Hault. ""We met once at a gallery in Mont Claire, didn't we?" I shook my head slowly. "I don't think so."
His smile didn't fade. "Well, I've seen your work. The style is familiar. Charcoal with bleeding edges. ""You did a portrait that stirred quite a stir online last year." But I just kept my eyes ahead.
He then leaned closer. "Working with Zayven Drayce can be…intense. But just be careful. He doesn't always keep the people close to him safe."
I asked if that was a threat, but he just laughed. "It's just a warning, not everyone who enters that tower comes out clean." Then he stepped off to the next floor, leaving behind his Cologne scent.
When I finally reached the lobby, I didn't leave. I sat on the bench near the elevators. My name is probably circulating now.
I'd been erased. He was protecting himself, not me. And the worst part was that I understood it. Why should I do that?
I silently went home and showered, the hot water stinging my skin. As soon as I got out, my phone vibrated.
Unknown number again. I picked it up. It was my grandmother, asking why my name was on her news feed. I told her I didn't want to talk about it. She sighed.
"You always run from storms, Soline. ""One day, you'll have to stand in one." But I just hung up, I'm not ready for her preaching.
That night, I tried to paint. But all that came out was a blank canvas. My hands shook as I kept seeing his face, that cold stare, the way he said nothing when they handed me a check, like I had some problem to sweep away. I just sat there, staring at the white board until my eyes blurred.
Then, at midnight, someone buzzed my apartment. I looked through the peephole.
And it was Zayven. He was standing there like he hadn't thrown me out twelve hours earlier. I opened the door with my best angry face. "What do you want?"
He didn't answer right away, he just looked around, took in the clutter, the unfinished canvases and the stack of ramen cups. "I didn't know where else to go," he said.
I didn't invite him in. But he walked past me anyway. He stood in the center of my tiny living room, his eyes darting across the walls.
"You live here?" I crossed my arms. "Is that a problem?" He shook his head slowly. No. It makes sense now.""
I asked what that meant. He then turned to me, with his usual unreadable face. "That's why you looked out of place in my world. You belong here, not there."
I should've kicked him out immediately but instead, I asked, "Why are you here?" He looked at me for a long time before answering.
"Because I lied. ""And because something's happening, I can't talk to anyone else about it." I asked what that meant. But he didn't answer.
He stepped closer. His fingers grazed mine. "I need you to come back." I stared at him. "As what? The scapegoat? Or to continue a silent affair?"
He shook his head. "As the only person who painted something real in a room full of lies."
I didn't know what that meant. But before I could respond, a loud crash echoed from outside. We both turned toward the window. A rock had been thrown through it with paper wrapped around the rock.
He ran to the glass, and yanked it open, then grabbed the note.
He read it silently, only muttering a few words.
But I couldn't grab any of them.
Then looked at me and said.
"They now know where you live."