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I was already holding on by a thread, ready to come apart at the seams.

Scarlett continued to lose herself in her dance, and all I could think about was meeting her for drinks sometime soon, hoping like hell that Andi and Scarlett Jade were the same person and none of this was for show. Andi was a performer, but the thing I feared the most was that somehow, I would end up being the idiot who thought there could be a genuine connection between us, when in reality, she was just doing her job.

“Peyton! Are you home?” I knocked relentlessly on my roommate’s door.

“Yeah, one sec!”

Rustling came from the other side of the wall while I waited patiently for my best friend to open up. When the door finally cracked, Peyton waved me in.

“I have ten minutes before I have to hop on this call, what’s up?”

Seeing my best friend all done up and ready for work damn near distracted me from what I came in here for in the first place.

“Damn, you look hot!” I whistled.

With her natural blonde curls perfectly laid over her shoulders, and an ice-blue lingerie set that even had me foaming at the mouth, there was a one hundred percent chance that her next customer would blow his load within seconds.

Did I forget to mention that my best friend and roommate was a cam girl? Our professional lives were a huge reason we got along so well. Instantly, we were able to connect and understand one another when it came to being sex workers in the city.

“Thanks, babe, and you look stressed. So, what’s the deal?”

“Oh, right. I’m meeting up with someone for drinks. How does my outfit look?” I spun around in my black Doc Martins, offering a full three-sixty view of my outfit. A black mini dress with little red roses for the pattern, and a black leather jacket to fight off the slight winter chill in the air.

Since I told Hunter to meet me at Bluff City—my favorite bar off the Strip—I knew my outfit would fit perfectly for the casual vibe.

“Hmm, bend over and touch your toes.”

I did as Peyton said and performed my best Elle Woods impersonation of the “bend and snap.”’

“Just a little bit of cheek, which means you’re sexy, not slutty. You look hot, obviously, but why do you care what I think?” Peyton eyed me suspiciously.

Normally, I wouldn’t ask her opinion because it was only ever one date with me. I didn’t extend the invite or accept a second date with anyone. Seconds? Yeah, right. First dates and that was it. Anything more and men were bound to get attached. Even at thirty-one years old, I still found myself not wanting to entertain a relationship.

“I don’t care,” I lied, pulling my roomie in for a hug, and giving her a swift slap across the ass before fleeing for the door and calling behind me, “I just wanted to see you before I left. So, don’t wait up for me, bye!”

As I stood on the other side of my apartment door, I ran my sweaty palms down the skirt of my mini dress, scolding myself internally for being so nervous.

There was no reason to be nervous.

Hunter was hot as hell, and we were just getting together for an evening out with a few drinks. I would probably find myself back at his place, fuck his brains out, and do the walk of shame the next morning with no intention to return.

My friends and I had been hitting up Bluff City for years now. The old run-down bar had a certain charm that you couldn’t find anywhere else in a city full of tourists. Plus, there was a huge benefit to one of my closest friends, Colton, bartending most nights.

Even though I was meeting up with one of the richest men I knew, free drinks still had a nice ring to it. Whether they were from Colton or Hunter, I didn’t care.

After a ridiculously intimate dance a few nights back—a dance I’d been trying my hardest to forget—Hunter gave me his phone number and requested that I text him the details of our date. An incredibly sly way of getting my phone number, if you were to ask me.

Before I even stepped out of the Uber, Hunter had already messaged me to let me know he had arrived and was sitting at the bar waiting patiently.

At least I knew that he beat me here, so before I went in, I took a deep breath and prepared myself to come face to face with the man who actually made my panties a little wet at work—which never happened.

“It’s go time,” I mumbled under my breath before looking down at my cleavage and adjusting my tits.

The stale scent of cigarette smoke hit me in the face the moment I entered the bar. I couldn’t help it as I lightly giggled to myself thinking about Hunter in a place like this. It had me reminiscing of earlier this year when my friend Avery met the man of her dreams—Spencer—in this exact bar.

Rich men in a place like this stuck out like a sore thumb.

A low whistle came from the bar, but it wasn’t from my date.