Ava’s POV

The first thing I noticed about the club was that everything looked expensive.

The glasses, the lights, the dresses. Even the people seemed like they belonged to a world where money was something you spent without thinking.

I stood near the edge of the dance floor, gripping a glass I had barely touched, wondering what exactly I was doing there.

I didn’t belong in a place like this. I should have been home.

Instead, I had put on the nicest dress I owned, left my mother sleeping with her medication beside her bed, and walked into a club because I had run out of places to put my fear.

The debt collector’s voice replayed in my head.

“Your father owed money, Ava.”

My fingers tightened around the glass.

My father had been dead for months, yet somehow his debt had become my problem.

Six figures.

When the man first told me the amount, I had laughed. Then he showed me the documents.

My father’s name.

His signature.

The amount he had borrowed.

And my name listed as his next of kin.

“That makes the debt your responsibility now.”

There was no way I could pay that kind of money.

My mother was already struggling with her health. Mia was sixteen. Noah was thirteen. And I was a twenty-four-year-old cashier who could barely stretch her salary through the month.

I took another sip of my drink.

It burned my throat.

Good.

At least it gave me something else to focus on.

The music changed, and people around me cheered. I watched them dance and laugh as if tomorrow didn’t exist.

For a few hours, I wanted to be one of them.

No bills. No calls. No fear.

Just tonight.

I looked down at my dress. It wasn’t anything special, but it was the nicest one I owned.

Tonight, I wanted to feel like someone else.

My eyes wandered across the room.

Then I felt someone watching me.

He stood at the bar with one hand around a glass, completely comfortable in the chaos.

Tall. Dark wavy hair. Sharp black eyes.

He looked like everything I had never been allowed to want.

Expensive. Careless. Dangerous.

He pushed off the bar and started walking toward me.

My first instinct was to leave.

My second was worse.

I stayed.

When he reached me, the music had slowed into something heavier.

“You look like you’re trying very hard not to run,” he said, his voice low enough that I felt it more than heard it.

I laughed, but it came out sharp.

“Maybe I am.”

“Then don’t.” His hand brushed the small of my back, light at first, testing. “Not yet.”

I should have stepped away.

Instead, I let him pull me closer until the club disappeared around us.

He smelled like whiskey and something darker, something that made my pulse stumble.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

I shook my head. “Does it matter?”

A slow smile touched the corner of his mouth.

“Not tonight.”

He kissed me.

And for the first time that night, I stopped thinking about the debt.

I kissed him back, letting myself forget everything waiting for me outside those doors.

When we finally broke apart, my heart was hammering.

“Come with me,” he said.

Not a question.

I looked at him for a moment.

My mother needed medicine. My siblings needed me. Tomorrow, the debt would still be there.

But tonight, I wanted to forget.

So I nodded.

He took my hand and led me through the crowd.

By the time the cool night air hit my skin outside, I was already committed to the decision.

His car was black and expensive enough to make my stomach twist.

He opened the door for me without a word. I slid inside and watched the city lights blur past the window.

His hand rested on my thigh.

“You’re shaking,” he murmured.

“I know.”

He glanced at me. “We don’t have to…”

“Yes, we do,” I cut in, my voice barely steady. “I need this. Just… don’t ask me why.”

He didn’t.

He simply drove faster.

The hotel was the kind of place I had only ever seen in magazines.

Marble, quiet luxury, and staff who didn’t look twice at a man like him walking in with a girl in a dress that had probably cost less than one of their tips.

The elevator ride was silent except for the sound of my breathing.

When the doors opened onto a private floor, my heart was beating hard.

Inside the suite, the city glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.

He turned to me and kissed me again.

Slower this time, deeper, like he was trying to learn the shape of my mouth.

I melted into him. My hands slid under his shirt, feeling the hard muscle and heat of a body that had never known hunger the way I had.

He made a low sound in his throat and backed me toward the bed.

Clothes came off in a rush of fabric and need.

His mouth found my throat, my collarbone, the curve of my breast.

I arched into every touch, chasing the kind of oblivion that only skin against skin could give.

When he finally pushed inside me, slow and deep and so full I couldn’t breathe, something inside my chest cracked open.

Tears stung my eyes. I didn’t let them fall.

I just held on tighter, legs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his shoulders as he moved like he was trying to ruin me for anyone else.

Maybe he already had.

The rest of the night passed in a blur and I found pleasure in every moment.

By morning, reality returned.

I woke before he did.

Sunlight spilled through the curtains as I sat up and looked at the man beside me.

I couldn’t believe I’d given my virginity to someone whose name I didn’t even know.

I didn’t have time to think about any of it. I grabbed my dress and purse, then glanced at the stranger beside me one last time.

I didn’t even know his name. Maybe that was for the best.

Whatever happened between us would stay in that room.

And with that, I walked away without looking back, ready to forget the whole night.