“You’re not kidding, are you?”

Anna forced a shaky laugh, half-hoping Rebecca Morgan would crack a smile and admit she was joking. But instead, Rebecca’s expression hardened.

“I’m not joking in the slightest,” she said. “Your father’s life is in your hands. Decide now. If you refuse, I’ll offer this to someone else. Someone luckier.”

The words slammed into Anna like a door closing.

She closed her eyes tightly. This was insane. She had never even had sex in her life—not because she wasn’t curious, but because she was always working. Always chasing rent. Always exhausted. And now, she was being offered sixty thousand dollars to sleep with a man she had never even met?

“Anna?” Rebecca’s voice interrupted her spiral. “You have five minutes to think.”

She stood, walked to the window, and lit a cigarette. The scent of tobacco filled the room like a warning.

Anna looked down at the check still clutched in her hand. $60,000. More than enough to secure the first hospital payment. More than enough to buy her father time.

“What if I don’t get pregnant?” The question escaped her lips before she could stop it.

Rebecca turned her head slightly. “You’ll still be compensated fairly.”

“And the contract ends after I give birth?”

“Yes,” Rebecca replied smoothly. “You’ll be free to go.”

Anna took a breath. Her father’s pale face flashed in her mind. His weak smile. His hand gripping hers when he still had strength. She had no one else. No safety net. No miracle waiting.

She nodded twice. “Okay. I agree.”

Rebecca smiled, pleased. “Good. You’ve made the right choice. A parent’s life... is worth everything. Don’t worry, I’ll transfer the remaining amount you need. It’s eighty-six grand, isn’t?”

She pulled a slim black folder from the drawer and slid it across the table. “This is the contract. Read it carefully. Every word. Sign when you’re ready.”

Anna flipped through the pages numbly, her eyes barely registering the words. The details felt distant, like reading someone else’s fate.

“When you’re finished, shower and get some rest,” Rebecca said, already heading for the door. “Karen will pick you up at nine tonight.”

And just like that, she was gone—leaving Anna sitting there, hollow, the contract before her, her hands trembling slightly as the clock ticked.

***

“I’m going to take a shower. Could you give me some privacy?” Anna asked, surprised to find Karen still standing silently in the corner of her room.

“I need to ensure your body is fully clean and properly prepared. I’ll assist.”

Karen stepped toward the bathroom without waiting.

“Prepared how?” Anna asked, following her warily. “I already shaved my legs and armpits—”

Karen raised an eyebrow. “That’s not enough.”

Anna’s stomach twisted as Karen’s gaze moved downward.

“You’re not seriously going to—?”

“Have you heard of Brazilian waxing?” Karen asked with all the emotion of a toll booth operator.

Anna blushed furiously. “Y-yes.”

“Well, that’s what we’re doing. Lie down. There’s a spa bed ready.”

Anna hesitated but obeyed. Her hands clenched into fists as she laid down, her face burning. Two hours later, Anna emerged from the bathroom, skin glowing, hair dried, and her body feeling... not quite hers anymore. She moved to her suitcase for clothes, but Karen stopped her with a curt, “Don’t wear anything that’s not in the wardrobe.”

Anna opened the closet and frowned. Most of the options looked too formal or too revealing. Finally, she settled on a pale yellow dress that reached just above her knees. It was cute, modest, and... safe.

She was brushing her tangled hair when Karen appeared again.

“Now what?” Anna asked tiredly.

“I’ll fix your hair,” Karen said, surprisingly softer this time.

Anna sat at the vanity without protest. Karen’s fingers moved efficiently, smoothing and styling her long, thick hair into soft waves. For a moment, Anna almost felt like a person again—not just a contract.

“You’ve got good bone structure,” Karen said absently. “You’ll be fine.”

“Thanks,” Anna muttered.

Karen finished, stepped back, and examined her handiwork.

“I’ll come get you after dinner.”

***

Dinner came, but Anna barely touched the food. Her stomach was tied in a dozen knots. She sat by the window of her room, staring down at the street below, watching the distant lights flicker in the haze.

At exactly nine, Karen returned.

Anna followed her down a long hallway, every step heavier than the last. Her legs were stiff. Her palms were damp. At the end of the hall stood Rebecca, elegant as ever, waiting outside a tall wooden door.

“Are you ready?” Rebecca asked, her eyes scanning Anna’s outfit and makeup.

“I don’t know,” Anna said honestly.

Rebecca didn’t respond right away. Instead, she said, “Daniel is... selective. I’ve introduced him to fifteen women. All were rejected. You’re the sixteenth. You need to make this work.”

Before Anna could respond, Rebecca turned and walked away.

“To your room?” Anna called after her.

Rebecca looked back briefly. “Yes. Good luck, Anna.”

Good luck? Seriously?

Anna’s knees nearly gave out.

She stood in front of the door for what felt like hours, then finally raised her hand and knocked.

“Come in,” came a deep voice from inside.

She turned the knob. The room was large—almost a studio, really. The walls were covered in half-finished paintings and canvases leaned against every surface. The scent of oil paint and turpentine hung thick in the air.

Anna’s eyes scanned the chaos and stopped when she saw Daniel Morgan.

He stood barefoot in worn jeans and a T-shirt, a palette in one hand and a brush in the other. His hands were stained with color, his face partially smudged with green. He was strikingly handsome—more so than she had imagined—but in a rugged, untamed way.

“Good evening, Mr. Morgan,” Anna said, trying to sound composed.

He looked up, briefly nodding. “Sit wherever.”

Anna quietly crossed the room and perched on the edge of a low chair, heart racing. Daniel returned to his painting without another word. Minutes passed. Then ten. Then fifteen.

She tried not to fidget. The silence was unbearable. Finally, her eyes drifted toward a stack of blank canvases. She stood, walked over, and picked one up.

“Mind if I paint too?”

Daniel paused, surprised. Then nodded once.

She sat in a far corner of the room and began sketching. Her hands were steadier now. The act of painting gave her focus, control. Something that belonged to her.

She was so absorbed in layering color that she didn’t notice Daniel behind her until he spoke. “You can paint?”

Anna jumped slightly. “Not really,” she murmured.

“I read your file. You’re a sculptor, right?”

Anna nodded.

He lit a cigarette, smoke curling around his jaw. “Why are you here?”

She hesitated, then turned to face him. “My dad needs emergency spinal surgery. I need the money.”

Daniel’s gaze sharpened. “That’s why you agreed?”

“Yes.”

He studied her for a long moment. Then, without expression, he pulled up a chair and sat directly across from her.

“All right then,” he said quietly. “I’ll sleep with you.”

Anna’s breath caught. Her stomach turned. Oh my, she was about to lose her virginity to a stranger.

***