"I am twenty... I would drink... I would get laid... Tonight I am the alpha of my own life," Miller chanted, the words slurring drunkenly together as her gaze swept across the room. The male escorts she had come here for were a disappointing collection of faces, none living up to the fantasy she had constructed in her mind. But her determination didn't wane; she was determined that this night would be her night of rebel. Stumbling through the sea of people, a beer bottle still held tightly in her hand, her eyes suddenly landed on a figure that seemed to have descended from heaven itself.
There he was, a stark contrast to the chaos of the bar, sitting with an aura of absolute authority as if he owned the very space he occupied. He possessed beautiful silver eyes and was dressed in an impeccably tailored black suit, sipping a glass of wine with a slow, deliberate elegance. A bright smile spread across Miller's face, and her beer bottle slipped from her fingers, crashing to the floor unnoticed. "Now that's a beauty," she muttered to herself and began her unsteady journey towards him.
The room felt too stuffy for Devion. It was his first time in such a rowdy environment, and he was without his usual tail of subordinates. Tonight, he had only wanted to drink, to numb the sting of his own foolishness. The revelation that his childhood sweetheart and fiancée had been cheating on him with his own chauffeur, right under his nose, had crashed down on him tonight. He had been a blind idiot for a long time. A soft beep from his phone drew his attention. A message from her flashed on the screen: "Devvy, where are you? I can explain, I swear." His face remained cold as he switched the device off completely and took another slow sip of his wine. Just as the bitter thoughts began to swirl again, a blonde figure, dressed in a boyish fashion, materialized directly in front of him.
She grabbed his collar, yanking him from his thoughts. "Hi handsome, how much for a night?" she slurred.
A deep frown etched onto his face as he tore her hand from his collar. "I am not one of them," he said, his voice cold.
'How dare he reject her?' The thought fueled Miller's drunk head. She thrust a wad of cash and her credit card into his lap. "I have money. 3000 dollars, all for you," she declared, leaning in so close he could smell the alcohol on her breath. Her fingers traced the line of his suit buttons. "I would pay you more if that isn't enough."
"You are playing with fire," he warned, his silver eyes glinting dangerously.
She smiled, a drunk, utterly cute expression. "You are in luck; I love fire," she muttered.
"Don't blame me then," he said, his voice low. In one swift, startling motion, he scooped her up into his arms, and she squealed in excitement as he carried her out of the bar and headed straight for the hotel just above the bar.
---
The sound was insistent, a relentless buzzing that drilled into her ears. Miller groaned, a low, pained sound that escaped her throat as she pried her eyes open. The morning light slipping through the curtains stung, and she squinted her eyes against the sting. Her body moved unconsciously, her hand fumbling across the bedside table until her fingers closed around the buzzing phone. She swiped to answer without even a glance at the screen.
"Hello?" she mumbled, her voice thick and groggy with sleep.
A frantic, worried voice shot back immediately. "Miller! Where are you?"
Miller squeezed her eyes shut against the violent throbbing in her temples. "I don't know," she grumbled, the statement utterly honest in its confusion.
"You idiot! Where are you? Did you really go drinking?" "Her best friend, Stephenie," she demanded, her voice filled with anxiety.
Still lost in a fog, Miller asked, "What happened, Steph?"
"My mom is around already, and she's demanding your presence!" Stephanie said, her voice pitching higher with panic.
Miller fell silent. Aunt Janet was back? Her eyes snapped open fully, the mental fog evaporating in a surge of panic. She finally took in her surroundings: the luxurious but utterly unfamiliar hotel room and the massive bed she was tangled in. This was not her apartment. A wave of nausea hit her, accompanied by a sharp, punishing ache that resonated deep within her body. Then, the previous night came back to her in disjointed memories: the bar, her decision to be bad, the beautiful escort with the silver eyes, thrusting her money at him...
Her blood ran cold. She sat bolt upright, the sudden movement sending a fresh spike of pain through her skull and a deep soreness through her entire body. She looked down at herself, and the reality of her situation hit her with the force of a physical blow. She was completely NAKED! The room was a mess, with clothes strewn about and the general disarray telling a vivid tale of the night's passionate and reckless events. The distinct sound of running water was coming from the bathroom, and the 'escort' from the previous night was definitely in there.
"Miller, are you still there?" Stephanie's anxious voice called from the phone still pressed to her ear.
"Steph," Miller called, her own voice tight with fear. "Come pick me up."
"Oh God! Tell me you haven't done anything stupid," Stephanie said, the sound full of despair.
"Just pick me up at Zilla," Miller said, avoiding a direct reply. She disconnected the call without another word. Scrambling off the bed, her legs almost gave way, and she had to grip the bedside table to stop herself from hitting the floor. She felt sore all over, a deep, intimate ache that made every movement a reminder of her stupidity. It took a moment for her to stabilize herself. Immediately, she slipped her clothes from the floor back on, her fingers fumbling with the buttons. Her shoes were nowhere to be found. It didn't matter. Escape was all that mattered. Aunt Janet must not, under any circumstances, find out what had happened last night. She bolted for the door, yanked it open, and dashed out into the hallway without a backward glance.