Chapter 3 MEETING MR. ARROGANT

Tara looked up and saw a tall, dark-haired man standing next to her, his hair was slightly tousled as if he had run his fingers through it repetitively. He wore a dark pair of jeans that fit him perfectly, accentuating his long legs, and a t-shirt that hugged his well-defined muscles, outlining his impressive physique. She caught a glimpse of the beginning of a tattoo on his forearm, and his veins were bulging, making his arms look even more muscular. His sharp, clean-shaven jawline and the faint smile playing on his plump lips made him look breathtakingly handsome.

"You're not really going to drink all that, are you?" he asked, playfully raising an eyebrow. She was at a loss for words, stammering as she tried to respond. His voice was commanding and soothing at the same time with a little hint of an accent.

"Relax," he teased. "Take a breath. You look like you need it." His eyes seemed to twinkle with amusement, and she couldn't help but feel drawn to him. She wondered who he was and why he was talking to her, but she was too nervous to ask.

Tara took a deep breath and glanced up nervously at the stranger again. "Thanks," she replied, with a small smile. "I'm sorry, I just...I'm a little out of my element here." She explained.

He smiled warmly. "I understand," he expressed in a soothing tone. "Why don't you slow down the alcohol, and I'll get you something non-alcoholic to drink?"

Tara hesitated for a moment but nodded silently feeling grateful for the friendly gesture. The stranger ordered her a soda and placed it in front of her.

"So, what's your story? He asked out of the blue, leaning dangerously close to her, " How did you end up here?" He prompted, His eyes sparkling with curiosity.

"Money," she blurted out. "A lot of money."

The man raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "Money, huh? "That's quite an entrance line, sweetheart. Most women here don't come straight to the point."

"I'm not here for games," she snapped.

"Let's say I give you this money, what exactly are you willing to do in return?" he inquired with a raised eyebrow.

Shame burned in Tara's cheeks, but desperation drowned it out. "Anything," she whispered.

He studied her for a long moment, his dark eyes intense. "Anything?" he echoed. "That's a very broad term, sweetheart."

Tara met his gaze, her resolve hardening. "I need eighty thousand dollars," she stated, her voice firm despite the tremor running through her. And I'm willing to do whatever it takes."

The amusement vanished from his eyes, replaced by something akin to curiosity. He studied her for a long moment, his gaze so intense it felt like he was peeling back layers of her soul.

"Eighty thousand is a hefty price tag," he finally acknowledged. "What exactly is the anything you are offering in return?"

"Myself," she responded, the word heavy on her tongue. "For one night."

A faint smile played at the corners of his mouth, but it was difficult to tell what he was thinking. As she waited for him to respond, she felt her face heat up with embarrassment. She realized how forward she had sounded. "I'm sorry," she muttered. "That was inappropriate. Please forget I asked."

"I don't know how good you are to want that price but I can't give a whore that amount." He leered and lazily ran his eyes around her body. "But for that, I'll pay at most fifteen thousand dollars and that's only because I'm feeling generous."

She couldn't believe the audacity of the man sitting across from her. How dare he assume such a thing about her? She wanted to lash out at him, to defend her honor and tell him off for calling her a whore. But then she remembered why she was there in the first place. Her mother's life was on the line.

She wasn't a whore, she was just desperate. She needed the money, and she was willing to do whatever it took to get it. But this man, with his smug attitude and lecherous gaze, was making her question whether it was all worth it.

"I'm not a whore," she declared firmly, trying to keep her voice steady.

He scoffed in derision at her statement. "We know your type, so are you doing this or not?" he shot back, his tone dripping with condescension.

She took a deep breath and tried to maintain her composure. "Look, I know it's a lot of money, but I have my reasons for asking for that amount. I can assure you that I can provide a service that's worth every penny," she replied, trying to sound confident.

The man chuckled and took a sip of his drink. "Oh, I'm sure you can, darling. But I'm not in the business of overpaying for services if you catch my drift."

She gritted her teeth and resisted the urge to slap the smug look off his face. She had to think fast and come up with a way to convince him to agree to her terms.

"Okay, how about this," she started with a sly smile. "I'll make you a deal. You give me ten thousand up front and the rest after I deliver the service. If you're not satisfied, you don't have to pay me the rest."

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by her offer. After a moment of contemplation, he nodded and reached for his wallet. "Deal. But you better deliver on your end, or you'll regret it."