2

The man was heavy, all dead weight as she helped him stay upright. He mumbled something under his breath, but it was just noise.

“Hey,” she said, breathless, “where’s your car? Or where do you live? Can you point?”

His head lolled to the side. “M’car…” he slurred. “Over there… shiny black one…”

Red followed his finger and blinked.

A sleek, expensive-looking black car was parked by the curb, the kind that looked like it could pay off her entire debt in one swipe. A driver stood by it, dressed in all black, holding the door open.

“Ma’am,” the driver nodded. “Thank you for getting him out safely.”

Red sighed, brushing her hair back. “I can leave him with you now.”

But the driver looked a little uneasy. “He gets… difficult when he’s drunk. Stubborn. Won’t go in unless someone he’s clinging to helps. If you don’t mind…” he gestured to the backseat.

Red hesitated. This wasn’t her problem. She was supposed to dance, make her small cash, and leave. But somehow tonight flipped the rules.

“Fine,” she muttered, gripping the man tighter and helping him into the back of the car.

He slumped against the leather seat with a groan, mumbling something about champagne and lies. Red started to pull away—

“Just ride with us until we get to the house,” the driver said gently. “Then I’ll take you back wherever you want. Please. He trusts you… for some reason.”

Red glanced at the man passed out beside her. His suit reeked of cologne and whiskey, but his face was peaceful now.

“Alright,” she said softly, sliding in beside him. “Just this once.”

The driver couldn’t help but stare in quiet disbelief.

His boss—Nico Bellami—was letting a woman touch him. Lean on him and guide him.

That never happened.

Nico was untouchable and off-limits. The heir to the Bellami empire and the most sought-after bachelor in the city.

Women didn’t just want him—they ruined themselves trying to get close. Some had cried, begged, obsessed. A few had even threatened to take their lives when he didn’t return their affection.

One woman actually did.

And here he was… letting this curvy stranger pull him close without blinking. Letting her lead.

The driver knew something had to be seriously wrong. Nico wasn’t just drunk—he was trying to disappear from something.

And he knew exactly what.

Tonight was the night Nico’s parents had arranged an engagement dinner with the Valentino heiress—a woman he had barely spoken two words to in his life. It wasn’t about love. It was about power.

Nico hated all of it.

He was allergic to alcohol, but he drank anyway. Nine bottles. Back to back.

Like he was trying to numb himself into a blackout. And maybe he was.

So the driver didn’t ask questions. He just looked at the woman helping him and nodded with quiet respect.

Nico’s phone started buzzing again. For the tenth time in two minutes.

The screen lit up with "Mother" flashing across it, followed by the familiar chime of yet another incoming text. Then another. Then another.

Red glanced down at the phone in his hand—nearly a hundred missed calls, all from the same name. A flood of unread messages backed it up.

“lord ,” she muttered under her breath.

The driver sighed quietly from the front seat. “He told me not to answer. No matter what.”

Red raised a brow. “From his own mother?”

“She’s the reason he drank himself half to death tonight,” the driver said, keeping his eyes on the road. “Boss said if I answer even one call from them, I’m fired. Said he’d rather wake up in a ditch.”

Red didn’t know this man at all, but watching him slump in silence, head leaned against the window like he was trying to disappear from the world, she understood something:

Whatever was going on between him and his family—it ran deep.

They pulled up to a mansion so massive it made Red’s throat go dry. Pillars taller than anything she'd ever seen lined the front, and a row of luxury cars glistened under soft golden lights. But what really caught her eye was the large glowing sign at the gate:

Welcome to the Bellami Family

Nico & Briel’s Engagement Party

Her heart skipped.

Engagement?

She turned to look at the man beside her—still slouched, still completely wasted.

Why would a man get this drunk on the night he’s supposed to be celebrating love?

Red hugged her backpack tighter.

This place looks like it belongs in a movie. Everything smells like money. Like power. And here I am, fresh off a pole and standing in the middle of a billionaire’s fairytale gone wrong.

She bit her lip.

I really shouldn’t be here.

The car hadn’t even stopped properly before the driver turned to her, voice low and cautious.

“You shouldn’t come in. Really. I’ll handle him from here.”

Red nodded, already easing the door open. She didn’t want trouble. But just as she tried to slip out, a strong hand caught her wrist.

Nico.

His grip wasn’t tight, but firm enough to freeze her in place.

“Don’t... go,” he slurred, eyes glassy, breath heavy with whiskey. “You’re coming with me.”

“Sir, she really shouldn’t—” the driver tried again.

“I said back off!” Nico barked, loudly , sharp enough to turn heads near the entrance. Red’s stomach twisted. She didn’t like attention.

But she didn’t get the chance to argue. Nico was already pulling her toward the mansion.

Her boots clicked softly against marble as they stepped into the grand hallway—lavish chandeliers, a live quartet playing something slow, and too many well-dressed people sipping champagne. The scent of expensive perfume clung to the air.

Red’s heart raced.

What am I doing here?

Heads were turning. People were staring. And there she was—walking beside the groom-to-be, his shirt undone, belt loose, lips stained with alcohol. He leaned on her like she belonged to him.

I don’t belong here, she panicked, gripping her backpack tighter, suddenly aware of how out of place she looked. I’m just the girl from the club…

A hush fell over the room as Nico climbed the short steps leading to the center of the ballroom.

His mother gasped from across the room. His father stiffened. Briel, the woman in the silver gown, blinked rapidly as if she was seeing a ghost.

Then, Nico raised a shaky hand and pointed at Red.

“This... this is my wife,” he slurred, his words tumbling out like stones. “I’m not getting engaged. I’m already married.”

Gasps. Loud, stunned gasps filled the air.

Red froze.

Wife?

What the actual fuck is happening? Red’s heart slammed against her ribs like it was trying to escape.

I only helped him… I only got him out of trouble! And now he’s calling me his wife? In front of everyone? In a damn mansion filled with people wearing diamonds and holding champagne flutes like they were born with them?

She felt her throat tighten as everyone turned to stare. Judging. Whispering. Probably wondering who the hell she was and where her clothes came from.

This man’s a walking red flag in designer shoes.

She glanced at Nico—shirt half open, grinning like a drunk fool, his hand still on her waist.

Nico turned to her with a sleepy, crooked smile.

“Tell them, baby.”