Chapter 2 Don't Be So Quick To Dismiss It

Awareness crept back into Gianna's mind like a slow-rising tide, washing in fragments of the previous night's events. She sat frozen, momentarily stunned as rationality returned and memories flooded her consciousness.

Her beloved grandmother had fallen gravely ill, having been rushed to the intensive care unit three separate times. Each day brought mounting medical expenses that towered beyond her financial reach, creating a chasm between her grandmother's needs and her ability to meet them.

Driven by desperation, Gianna had approached her estranged father for assistance. His response had shattered her-he had demanded she sleep with a film director in exchange for covering the medical fees, so that her stepsister could launch her entertainment career.

For her grandmother's sake, Gianna had swallowed her pride and dignity, reluctantly agreeing to the arrangement. At the director's apartment, she had discovered too late that her wine had been drugged.

The director had leered at her, crudely announcing that she was someone he could bed without payment and that she'd been foolish enough to fall for an empty promise.

The devastating truth crystallized in that moment-her father and stepmother had never intended to help with her grandmother's medical costs. They had merely sought to exploit her body as currency to advance her stepsister's ambitions.

When the director was momentarily distracted, Gianna had seized her chance, fleeing in panic only to collide with the man now standing before her-the stranger who had become her unexpected savior.

And now, this same man claimed he wanted to take responsibility for what happened last night.

Gianna lowered her gaze, her voice barely above a whisper. "Last night, we..."

"We slept together."

Those simple words sent heat rushing to Gianna's face, embarrassment coloring her cheeks.

After gathering her composure, she continued, "Thank you for helping me, sir, but you don't owe me anything. Let's just pretend last night never happened."

She reached for the shirt lying beside the bed, hastily drawing it over her exposed upper body.

Tristan observed the shy woman before him, his mind involuntarily replaying intimate moments from the previous night-her soft gasps, the sensation of her body against his. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard.

Noticing his unwavering gaze, Gianna shifted uncomfortably. "Sir, could you turn around? I need to get dressed."

Her words snapped Tristan back to reality. He cleared his throat and stepped out of the bedroom, allowing her privacy.

Gianna exhaled deeply in relief, hurriedly slipping into her clothes. She ran her fingers through her disheveled hair, attempting to restore order before the mirror, then emerged from the bedroom.

As she passed Tristan, she bowed once more in appreciation and moved towards the exit.

"Wait." Tristan's voice halted her just as her hand reached the door.

She turned, a flicker of wariness in her eyes. "Is there something else, sir?"

His gaze locked onto hers, unwavering. "I meant what I said-I want to take responsibility for what happened. Don't be so quick to dismiss it. If you ever change your mind, come find me."

Gianna studied him, skepticism clouding her thoughts. A man so insistent on helping a woman he barely knew? It defied everything she had been taught to believe.

Her father had cheated on her mother. Her grandmother had been betrayed by a man too. She had grown up with the belief that men could not be trusted.

Suppressing the emotions swirling within her, Gianna shook her head. "That won't be necessary. We won't see each other again."

Tristan remained silent, watching as she turned and walked away. As he stared after her retreating figure, there was affection in his eyes.

After all these years, she no longer recognized him.

...

The evening air greeted Gianna as she stepped out of the apartment.

For the first time in her life, she felt truly lost. Stripped of control, betrayed by her own father, and now, left with the haunting reality that she had lost something she could never reclaim.

But there was no time to dwell on pain. Her grandmother was waiting for her.

After considerable deliberation, Gianna reluctantly dialed Aaron Fletcher's number. At this desperate juncture, Aaron represented her only potential lifeline.

Aaron was her sole so-called friend in this city.

Most significantly, Aaron was also the man who had once saved her life.

She had always carried Aaron close to her heart, and had it not been for her grandmother's critical condition and her father's malicious scheming, she would never seek Aaron's assistance.

The line connected to a cacophony of pulsing music, followed by Aaron's careless drawl. "Gianna, I'm at the Moonview Club. If you need something, come here."

Before Gianna could formulate a response, the line went dead.

She stood motionless, a wave of bitterness washing over her.

From their high school days until now-seven long years-Aaron had treated her with the same dismissive attitude, summoning her at his convenience and discarding her just as easily.

Yet in this moment of desperation, Aaron remained her only hope.