My jaw flexed. “Aurora.”
The name came out flat, leaving no room for argument.
The manager blinked, startled. “Oh—ah—of course, sir. The… Mute Angel?”
Everything inside me went still.
Next to me, Alex straightened, his face twisting like he’d just heard something rotten. “The what?”
The manager’s smile faltered. His Adam’s apple bobbed as his eyes darted between us. “It’s—it’s what the customers like to call her. You know, she’s… quiet. Mysterious. They also call her Silent Doll, Pretty Prop—”
The plastic menus on the table cracked under my grip.
They made her a fucking thing. An object. A prize to toss money at.My girl.
The manager swallowed hard, clearly realising the temperature in the room had dropped ten degrees. “I’ll, um—I’ll fetch her right away.”
He scurried off, leaving the weight of that name behind him.
Mute Angel.
I wanted to burn the whole place down.
And then she appeared.
Tray hugged tight to her chest, eyes wide, face pale as if she was already one breath away from breaking. Her gaze flickered from me to Alex, back to me, panic written in every line of her body.
Because this wasn’t some stranger seeing her like this. This was us. University. Class. Her secret life was bleeding into the world she fought so hard to keep separate.
Aurora looked like she was on the edge of shattering. And I was right there with her. They turned her into something men threw money at, like she wasn’t real. Like she was a decoration.
And then I saw it. Down below, men waving bills, shoving them high into the air. Cash fluttering like bait. Their mouths open, laughing, shouting, trying to catch her attention.
Alex cocked an eyebrow beside me. “They must be looking for her.”
I didn’t need to look at her to know it was true. I could feel it. Her shoulders had gone stiff, her hands tightening around her tray like she was holding herself together. She didn’t even have to say anything; her silence was the confirmation.
This wasn’t new. This had been happening. For how long? How many nights had she been forced to watch vultures wave money like she was a fucking toy?
The fury didn’t just burn; itscared me. What had she been through? What had she put up with in order to keep her job, her rent, her life running?
“Drinks,” I bit out. My voice was sharp, cutting through the heavy bass pounding from the speakers.
Her wide eyes flicked to mine.
“The best,” I added. “The most expensive you’ve got.”
She blinked once, then scrambled for her notepad, writing in quick, neat strokes. If throwing away my money meant buying her time, buying her safety, then so fucking be it.
She gave a quick nod, clutching the pad to her chest like a lifeline before spinning on her heel. Running. Actuallyrunningin those ridiculous heels, tray nearly slipping as she vanished into the crowd. I watched her go, something raw and ugly twisting in my chest.
Next to me, Alex let out a low whistle. “Her shirt’s so tight it’s practically painted on. You see how low those buttons are? Her tits are—”
“Shut the fuck up.”
I didn’t need Alex narrating what I already saw, what I couldn’t fucking unsee. Every curve on display. Every inch of her body offered to eyes that didn’t deserve to look.
It should have been formyeyes only. But it fucking wasn’t.Every part of her I’ve been patiently waiting for… everyone else gets first.
