**"
Morning hit Ivy like a bad ex who still owed her money.
She groaned, face buried in her pillow, one arm dangling off the edge of the mattress. The cheap alarm screamed for the third time. She slapped at it until it died, then lay there staring at the water stain on her ceiling.
"Five thousand dollars," she whispered. "Five thousand dollars a month."
The words still sounded like a lie someone would take back.
She dragged herself up, dark hair a complete disaster, and shuffled to the kitchen. The cream envelope sat on the counter like it was judging her life choices. She picked it up, ran her thumb over her name again, then dropped it like it burned.
"Stop. You already said yes."
Breakfast was dry cereal eaten straight from the box. She spent way too long standing in front of her closet, holding up clothes like they had personally offended her.
"This one says I'm trying too hard. This one says I gave up." She sighed and grabbed the same black dress from last night. "Congratulations, Ivy. You now own one acceptable outfit."
Her phone buzzed on the bed.
**Luna:** Proof of life or I'm filing a missing person report.
**Ivy:** Still alive. Starting the fancy job tonight. Send help or bail money.
**Luna:** Send pics of rich guys. For emotional support.
Ivy snorted, the small laugh cutting through the nerves for half a second. Then she looked at the time and cursed.
---
By 7:20 p.m. she was back at Velvet House, shoes already pinching. The building looked different at night — warmer, quieter, like it was holding its breath.
Mira met her inside, sharp as ever in her burgundy suit.
"Early again. I like that." She gave Ivy a quick once-over. "Changing room. Let's get you into uniform before the floor wakes up."
The uniform felt too nice against her skin. Black silk blouse, tailored trousers, and a delicate silver rose pinned to her collar. Ivy stared at herself in the mirror. She looked put-together. Almost like someone who belonged here.
Almost.
"Rules," Mira said, arms crossed. "No phones on the floor. No names. No photos. No repeating anything you hear. Clients pay to disappear. Help them do that."
"Professional ghosting. Got it."
Mira's lips twitched. "Upper floors are off-limits. Don't even look curious. And Ivy?" She paused. "Mr. Vale hired you personally. That doesn't happen often. Don't make either of us regret it."
The words sat heavy as Ivy followed Mira onto the main floor.
Soft jazz floated through the air. Crystal caught the low golden light. The place smelled like aged whiskey and expensive secrets. It was still quiet, but you could feel it preparing — like the room itself knew the real night hadn't started yet.
Mira walked her through table numbers and drink basics, moving fast. Ivy followed, repeating everything in her head, trying not to look as out of place as she felt.
Around eight-thirty the first guests trickled in. Mira threw her straight in.
"Table four. Two old fashioneds. Stay polite, stay invisible."
Ivy's hands stayed steady as she delivered the drinks, even when one of the men let his eyes linger too long. She smiled, nodded, and retreated.
She was reloading her tray at the service station when the air shifted.
She looked up.
Aiden stood on the mezzanine railing, looking down. Black shirt. Calm posture. Storm eyes locked directly on her.
Her stomach tightened.
He didn't smile. He didn't nod. He just watched, quiet and unreadable, like he was waiting for something only he could see.
Ivy held his gaze for a second longer than she should have.
Then she looked away, fingers gripping the tray a little tighter, heart beating louder than the jazz playing in the background.
The night was just getting started.
---