Chapter 10

Alan pulled the car into the hotel parking lot, the engine coughing one last time before dying into a heavy silence. The smoked-glass facade reflected the streetlights, and the place reeked of understated luxury—valets in uniform circling the few parked cars like efficient shadows. Madison got out first, slamming the door a little too hard, her legs stiff from the tense drive.

Alan followed, locking it absentmindedly, and they stood in front of the main entrance, on the paved steps leading to the automatic doors. The cool evening air slapped their faces, but it did nothing to ease the knot in their throats.

Alan pulled out his phone, fingers hesitating over the screen, and called Rebecah. It rang once, twice.

“Hello? Yeah, Rebecah, it’s Alan ... We’re at 42 Rivage Street, right in front of the entr—” The glass doors slid open smoothly, and Rebecah appeared on the threshold, a radiant smile on her lips, waving as if she’d been watching them through the transparent wall.

“Hello! You’re here! Come in, come in quick!”

Alan hung up abruptly, his mouth still open mid-sentence, and exchanged a glance with Madison—what, was she spying on us?

She was dressed casually, almost too ordinary after all the buildup in their minds: slim black jeans, a beige cashmere sweater that looked soft to the touch, and pristine white sneakers. No provocative outfit, no over-the-top makeup.

“Come on, come in! God, you two look tense as hell! Relax a bit, it’s going to be fine, we’re going to have so much fun, you’ll see!” she chirped in an overly cheerful voice, grabbing each of them by the arm and dragging them inside, like it was just a spontaneous night out with friends.

Her perfume lingered around them, light and expensive, contrasting with the scent of polished marble and fresh flowers in the vast lobby. Madison nearly stumbled over the threshold, her heels clacking awkwardly on the gleaming floor, while Alan felt his legs turn to jelly. Rebecah led them straight to the elevators, bypassing the front desk entirely—of course, she’d arranged everything.

“Want something to drink? Water, champagne? I’ve got everything upstairs. It’s a studio I booked for the occasion, you’re going to love it.”

The elevator doors opened with a discreet ding, and they rode up to the top floor.

When Rebecah unlocked the door to the suite—or “studio,” as she called it—Alan and Madison stood there speechless for a moment.

It was enormous, at least four times the size of their crappy apartments combined: an open living room with cream leather sofas, a high-tech kitchenette, floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the glittering city, and minimalist yet luxurious decor, with abstract art on the walls and thick carpeting that swallowed the sound of their footsteps.

It screamed money, subtle but overwhelming. But Rebecah didn’t give them time to linger or explore.

“This way!” she said brightly, pushing them toward a door at the far end. She opened it with a theatrical flourish, revealing the bedroom: a spacious room bathed in dim light from electric blinds, dominated by a king-size bed in the center, with pristine white sheets and plush pillows that practically screamed “this is where it’s going to happen.”

The air was cool, subtly scented with vanilla, but the atmosphere suddenly weighed down like an anvil—a brutal reminder of why they were there, of that hastily signed contract, of the debt that had led them straight into this gilded trap. Alan’s throat tightened. He tried awkwardly, staring at the floor: “Uh, about the payment ... is there any way to—” Rebecah cut him off sharply, her dazzling smile turning firm as she raised a hand like a teacher silencing a student.

“Hey, we already talked about this, Alan! It’s all in the contract. No advance, no negotiations—it makes things less exciting, remember? Come on, relax!”

She pulled her phone from her pocket, still smiling, her eyes gleaming with barely contained excitement. Her fingers flew across the screen, and she tapped a button with an audible little “click.” The timer appeared, the numbers starting to tick.

“Alright, we’ve got two hours starting ... now!”

Silence crashed down like a blade.

Alan and Madison stood frozen at the foot of the bed, unsure what to do with their bodies, hands hanging limp and eyes darting away. Rebecah watched them for a moment, her smile widening, almost tender.

“You’re not going to forget this anytime soon, I promise you...” she murmured, her voice thick with dark promises. ---

Rebecah let them stew in that thick silence for a moment, her gaze sliding from one to the other as if she were already savoring the show. Then, in a light, almost playful voice, she pointed straight at Alan.