What was she going to wear?
That red dress?
The thought of wearing that red dress out made her stomach clench. Her heart started racing before she even touched the fabric.
What if he sees me as a slut? The question burned in her mind. What if he thinks I have ulterior motives? He had already promoted her, given her an office next to his, started driving her home. If she showed up in this dress, he would definitely think she was trying to sleep her way to the top.
But she had to go. He was waiting downstairs. She had no fucking choice. She could not keep him waiting.
She grabbed the dress from the suitcase and held it up. The fabric was lighter than she remembered—almost weightless. It would barely cover her. She knew that. And still, she put it on.
The dress clung to her body like a second skin. The neckline plunged. The hem barely reached her thighs. It barely covered her breasts. It barely covered her butt. It was an off-the-shoulder design, which meant every time she moved, the fabric shifted in ways it definitely shouldn't.
She looked at herself in the mirror and wanted to cry.
This is Bella's fault, she thought. This is all Bella's fucking fault.
But there was no time. Carter was waiting.
She walked out of the room, her heels clicking against the marble floor of the hallway. With every step, she pulled down the dress, trying to cover more of herself. But the more she pulled down, the more she revealed. Her chest was spilling out. She knew that if she kept pulling, her breasts would be completely exposed.
She could feel the cool air on her collarbone. On her shoulders. On the tops of her breasts.
She knew if she kept pulling, soon her boobs would be out.
She wondered how she was going to walk in front of Carter with her butt almost hanging out. Her face burned. He's going to think I'm a fucking hooker.
Embarrassment washed over her in hot waves. But she kept walking. What else could she do?
---
By the time she got out of the elevator, Carter was already in the lobby, talking on his phone. His back was partially turned to her.
She stepped out of the corner and into the open space.
He looked up.
And stopped.
His eyes locked onto her. His phone lowered slightly from his ear. For a long, terrible moment, he just stared. His expression unreadable.
Lina stood frozen. She could not move. She could not breathe. She dug her nails into her palms, but the pain did nothing to ease the embarrassment flooding through her body. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole.
Her head was spinning. What was he thinking? The way he looked at her made her want to know what was in his mind. Is he disgusted? Does he regret bringing me? Does he think I'm trying to seduce him?
But then, a small voice—barely a whisper in the back of her head—offered another possibility.
What if he actually likes it?
What if he's finding it hard to keep his cool?
Hell no, she scolded herself. With the way he's looking at me right now, he's probably regretting ever promoting me. He's probably regretting bringing me along in the first place.
Tears pooled in her eyes. From shame. From frustration. From her own thoughts.
Carter ended his call and walked toward her. His face was unreadable.
Up close, the dress looked even worse. He could see how little it covered, how precariously it clung to her body.
"I'm… I'm… I'm…" Lina tried to form words, but nothing came out. Her mouth was dry. Her brain was static.
She regretted everything. Asking Bella for help packing that suitcase.
I have never been so embarrassed in my life, she thought. Maybe I have, but at least not this much. I look utterly fucking foolish in front of my crush.
Carter studied her for a moment. He had been thinking why she had worn something like this, what she was trying to do? Did she know they were having a meeting at a bar? Was that why she wore it? Why exactly was she in a dress like this dress?
But then he saw how uncomfortable she was. She could not even hide it. The way her face was red. The way she couldn't meet his eyes. The way her hands trembled at her sides. The way she kept tugging at the hem, trying to cover herself.
She was miserable. He knew there was a story behind this. He didn't know what it was, but he could see it clearly.
He pulled off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders.
Lina grabbed the fabric immediately, pulling it close like it was a lifeline. The warmth of it. The smell of his cologne. It covered her—really covered her—and she felt some of the panic recede.
Carter smiled. A small, gentle smile that made her want to cry even more.
"Let's go," he said, gesturing for her to walk ahead.
---
The private room of the bar was dimly lit, all dark wood and leather booths. Three men sat at the table—large men, broad-shouldered, with the kind of confident sprawl that came from money and power.
They sat beside each other. Lina stayed quiet, letting Carter do the talking. She kept his jacket wrapped tight around her body.
One of the men—the one in the middle, with a thick beard and cold eyes—turned to her.
"Pour me a drink," he said. It wasn't a request.
Lina blinked. She didn't think much of it. She was here to learn, to help, to prove herself. Pouring a drink was nothing.
She stood up, pulled Carter's jacket tighter, and poured the whiskey into his glass. The man watched her the entire time, his gaze lingering on her hands, on the way the jacket shifted when she moved.
The other two men exchanged a look. A silent understanding passed between them.
One of them stood up and walked behind Carter's chair.
"Mr. Hayes," he said, his voice smooth. "Come with us. There is something we need to show you."
Carter glanced at Lina, then at the men. He didn't seem worried.
"I'll be right back," he said, standing up.
Then he followed them out of the room.
The door closed.
Lina was alone with the bearded man.
"Pour another," he said.
She frowned but did it anyway. The bottle was heavy in her hands. The whiskey sloshed against the glass.
Am I here to pour drinks? she wondered. Is this why they brought me?
She felt a hand on her shoulder.
The man had stood up without her noticing. His fingers curled around the collar of Carter's jacket, pulling it down, exposing her bare shoulder.
Lina jerked back. The bottle slipped from her hand and crashed to the floor, amber liquid spreading across the wood.
"Easy there, cherry," the man said, his voice low and mocking. "You don't want to hurt those tender little hands."
He stepped closer. She stepped back. He crouched down in front of her, blocking her escape.
He reached out and cupped her face.
She slapped his hand away.
Hard.
The sound echoed in the quiet room.
"Fierce," he said, smiling like she had done something cute. "I like that. Don't run away from me. I know you want this. You don't have to pretend." His eyes dragged down her body, slow and deliberate. "And let me tell you—I love what I'm seeing. Appetizing."
Lina's blood ran cold.
He thinks I'm here for this. He thinks I'm part of the deal.
She tried to explain. Maybe if she just talked, he would understand. Maybe this was all a misunderstanding.
"This… this isn't what you think," she said, her voice shaking. "There's been a mistake. I'm not—"
The man rolled his eyes. He was tired of talking. Tired of waiting.
He reached for her again.