Rhea POV
I kept my distance, staying small, a shadow among the guests. Servers don't need to be noticed. We blend in until someone needs something. My goal wasn't to spill a drink or cause a scene. No, I wanted to do the opposite. I wanted to listen. And maybe watch him squirm later.
You learn secrets as staff. You hear the things people say when they think they're untouchable. And tonight? I had a secret of my own. My plan? To watch Mr. Cortez suffer. My revenge was simple: a little drink that would give him the night he'd never forget.
But...I wasn't the only one with plans.
While I was standing there with my tray, ready to slip the drink into his hand, I overheard a conversation between two other waiters. They were talking about a rich heiress, who had sent a special drink to Mr. Cortez with the intention of getting him into her bed. Apparently, this heiress was engaged to Mr. Cortez's brother, and she wanted to make sure he spent the night — a night he'd never forget, either.
Her plan was far more scandalous than mine. She wasn't after stomach troubles, like I was. No, she wanted Mr. Cortez to be the other man in her affair. The kicker? This lady was engaged to Mr. Cortez's brother. Talk about a family drama waiting to explode.
I had to suppress a grin. Karma is definitely on my side tonight.
I was aiming for the "run-to-the-bathroom-in-embarrassment" effect, but this lady? She wanted to make headlines. I wasn't going to get in the way of karma.
I stepped back, relieved that my drink would no longer be the main attraction. I handed my glass to a fellow waiter to dispose of and made a break for it. I was about to slip out and watch the drama unfold on social media when fate had other plans.
Just as I was heading toward the staff exit, a manager appeared out of nowhere and handed me a task: "Prepare the VIP room on the fourth floor."
Great. The last thing I needed was more time in this high-end hellhole.
I had no choice. I couldn't blow my cover.
I took the assignment, planning to get in and out quickly. Worst decision of my life.
I trudged up the stairs, hoping to finish quickly and get back to my escape plan. But the moment I stepped into the room, I froze.
It was like stepping into a dream.
my jaw nearly hit the floor.
The space was… otherworldly.
The space was enormous, like the entire apartment I shared with Lucy could fit in there twice. A velvet sofa? Check. A king-sized bed? Check. A bathroom that probably had better lighting than the one I paid for with my rent? Check. Only VIPs get rooms this nice. Everything was gilded, glimmering — I was pretty sure the floor tiles were more expensive than anything I'd ever owned. I wasn't exactly used to this level of luxury, so I did what any broke girl would do: I pulled out my phone and started recording, planning to show it off to Lucy later.
I placed my phone on the desk, planning to record myself lounging on the bed for a few seconds. Just a moment of "rich girl" fantasy.
I climbed onto the bed, shuffling the pillows around, and sighed. Heaven. Pure, unadulterated heaven. I fantasized about living in a place like this — no more broken plumbing or worrying about gas bills. But before I could fully lose myself in the fantasy, the door creaked open.
And there he was: Mr. Cortez.
Only... he wasn't exactly the polished CEO I was expecting. He stumbled in, looking worse for wear and obviously drunk, and my first thought was, Well, looks like the heiress' pill worked.
But where was she?
I froze, my heart skipping a beat as I realized I was trapped. There was nowhere to hide. I quickly slid off the bed and crouched down, hoping he wouldn't see me. I figured I could crawl to the door and sneak away, but of course, things weren't that easy.
As I started to crawl on all fours — terrified, my mind screaming, Just leave, just leave, just get out of here — I didn't know that he began stumbling toward me.
And then, in true classic rom-com fashion, he tripped. Right over me.
Suddenly, Mr. Cortez was on top of me, shirtless—apparently he had removed his top clothes to ease himself from the discomfort, sprawled across my body like some bad K-drama twist. My breath caught in my throat.
Oh. My. God.
He had the body of a Greek god. Abs that made me wish I had a fainting couch nearby. No no his abs were like something out of a Greek myth — sculpted, defined, like a male model's dream. Broad shoulders. A jawline that could cut glass. I wasn't even sure where to look.
But then, just when I thought this couldn't get worse... he touched me.
A firm grip on my waist. His warm breath against my skin. And then... I felt him kiss me. Softly at first. A light brush of lips against my jaw. But when I froze — as in, completely froze — he deepened it.
No, no, no. This was exactly why reading steamy books and having an overactive imagination was a terrible combination. Of course, my stupid brain decided to revisit the juicy passage from one of those novels I'd devoured.
{Her breath hitched as his lips crashed onto hers, fierce and demanding. The kiss was anything but gentle, a collision of need and desire that left her reeling. His mouth moved against hers with a urgency that bordered on desperation, his teeth grazing her lower lip in a way that made her gasp. That was all he needed—an opening, a crack in her defenses. His tongue swept into her mouth, hot and insistent, tangling with hers in a dance that was both primal and intoxicating.
Raven's hands instinctively reached for him, her fingers curling into the fabric of his suit jacket as she tried to anchor herself. His kiss was overwhelming, a storm of sensation that threatened to sweep her away. She could feel his frustration, his pent-up longing, in every touch, every movement. It was as if he had been waiting for this moment all night, and now that it was here, he was determined to make the most of it.
His other hand slid down her back, firm and possessive, pulling her closer until there was no space between them. She could feel the hard planes of his chest against her breasts, the heat of his body seeping into hers. His kiss deepened, his lips moving with a hunger that left her breathless. He tilted her head back slightly, angling her mouth to match his passion, his tongue tracing patterns that made her shiver with need.}
I couldn't even think straight. My brain went completely haywire, running through steamy scenes from the exact type of novels I'd been reading when I got fired. You know, the kind with possessive CEOs and wild office affairs. And like a bad habit I couldn't shake, I found myself wondering what it would be like to kiss a CEO.
And then, fate decided to show me, he kissed me.
It was slow at first — just a brush of his lips against my jaw. But then, like a switch had been flipped, he deepened the kiss, his mouth hot and insistent. I froze, unable to process what was happening. I could feel the heat of him against me, his body hard and commanding.
No. No, no, no, no, my brain screamed. This is not happening.
But my body? My body was a traitor. It responded before I could stop it. My heart raced. My thoughts scattered.
This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't supposed to kiss me like this. He was supposed to be my revenge target.
But my stupid, traitorous brain had other ideas. My heart raced, and my body seemed to forget the entire revenge plan. I could feel his body pressing against mine, his lips on mine, and for a second... I wondered if I was the one in the wrong story.
No. No, no, no. This is not happening. He's still the jerk who got me fired.
But try telling that to my lips when they were busy kissing him back.