Chapter 2
Sabrina woke up to thirty-seven missed notifications, a dead phone battery, and Chloe screaming.
"Oh my God, you're famous."
Sabrina groaned into her pillow.
"If this is about the time I cried over garlic bread at two in the morning, I already told you that was private."
"Sabrina."
There was genuine hysteria in Chloe's voice now.
Sabrina cracked one eye open.
Her best friend stood in the doorway of their apartment kitchen wearing mismatched socks, an oversized hoodie, and the expression of someone witnessing the apocalypse in real time.
"What?"
Chloe marched across the room and shoved her phone directly into Sabrina's face.
Sabrina squinted blearily at the screen.
Then sat upright so fast she nearly headbutted the wall.
"Oh no."
There she was.
Front page of a celebrity gossip account with twelve million followers.
One blurry photo captured the exact moment champagne exploded across Lucas Cooper's suit while he looked down at her with what appeared to be suspiciously affectionate amusement.
Another showed him helping her up from the floor, his hand around her waist while she stared up at him.
A third photo, somehow worse than the others, showed them talking on the balcony.
The headline read:
LUCAS COOPER SPOTTED GETTING CLOSE TO MYSTERY GIRL AT ASHFORD CHARITY GALA
Sabrina stared in horror.
"Oh no."
"That's all you have to say?" Chloe demanded. "You're trending on Twitter."
"I don't even use Twitter."
"Apparently everyone else does."
Sabrina grabbed the phone from her hands and scrolled frantically.
Thousands of comments flooded the post.
WHO IS SHE???
She's prettier than his ex idc.
The chemistry in the second pic???
Lucas finally smiling around a girl again omg.
That hand placement doesn't look friendly.
Some comments were worse.
Another waitress trying to get famous.
Probably staged.
She knew exactly what she was doing.
Sabrina dropped the phone onto her blanket like it had burned her.
"This is bad."
"This is iconic."
"This is unemployment."
Chloe paused.
"Okay, maybe slightly unemployment."
Sabrina dragged both hands over her face.
Her head already hurt.
She had work in two hours.
"How are they even getting balcony pictures?" she muttered.
"Paparazzi are terrifying."
"No kidding."
Chloe snatched the phone back.
"There are edits."
"What?"
"Fan edits. Of you and Lucas."
Sabrina looked genuinely ill.
"Delete the internet."
Unfortunately, the internet only got worse.
By the time Sabrina arrived at the Ashford Hotel that afternoon, three different coworkers had already recognized her.
One waiter wolf-whistled when she walked into the staff room.
"Yo, Sabrina, didn't know you were pulling movie stars."
"Shut up."
Another girl immediately grabbed her arm.
"What was he like in person?"
"Human-sized."
"Sabrina," Chloe whispered dramatically from behind her, "you're becoming hostile because fame is changing you."
"I'm becoming hostile because I'm one inconvenience away from a psychological break."
That turned out to be a dangerously accurate statement.
Especially when her manager appeared in the doorway.
"Sabrina. Office. Now."
Every conversation in the room died instantly.
Great.
She followed him through the hotel corridors trying not to panic.
Maybe she was getting fired.
Maybe sued.
Maybe publicly executed.
The manager shut the office door behind them.
"You caused quite a scene last night."
Sabrina crossed her arms.
"I spilled champagne accidentally. I didn't set the building on fire."
"You embarrassed one of the hotel's most important guests."
"He literally said it was fine."
"That isn't the point."
Sabrina bit the inside of her cheek hard enough to stop herself arguing.
Barely.
The manager sighed heavily and sat behind his desk.
"The hotel has received multiple calls asking about you."
Her stomach dropped.
"What?"
"Media outlets. Gossip blogs. Someone from a podcast."
"You're joking."
"I assure you I'm not."
Sabrina wanted to disappear into another dimension.
"I didn't do anything."
"Unfortunately," he said dryly, "the internet disagrees."
A knock interrupted them.
The manager frowned.
"Come in."
A sharply dressed woman stepped inside holding a tablet against her chest.
Not hotel staff.
Too polished.
Too intimidating.
Her dark hair was pulled into a sleek bun, and she wore the expression of someone who regularly destroyed people professionally.
"Sorry to interrupt," she said smoothly. "I'm looking for Sabrina Sanders."
Every instinct in Sabrina's body immediately screamed run.
"That would be me," she said slowly.
The woman smiled politely.
"My name is Vanessa Reed. I work with Lucas Cooper's management team."
Silence.
Complete silence.
Even the manager looked startled now.
Vanessa turned toward Sabrina.
"Mr. Cooper would like to speak with you."
Sabrina blinked once.
"...Why?"
"That conversation would be easier in person."
Absolutely not.
Every survival instinct she possessed activated instantly.
"No."
Vanessa looked mildly surprised.
"No?"
"I'm not getting murdered in some billionaire penthouse."
The manager made a choking sound.
Vanessa stared at Sabrina for two long seconds before something that looked suspiciously like amusement flickered across her face.
"You think Lucas Cooper is trying to kill you?"
"You people have enough money to make bodies disappear."
"Sabrina," the manager hissed.
"What? It's Manhattan. We should all be realistic."
Vanessa exhaled slowly through her nose.
"He wants to discuss the media situation."
"I didn't create the media situation."
"No," Vanessa agreed calmly. "But you're part of it now."
That sentence landed harder than Sabrina expected.
Part of it now.
Like she'd accidentally stepped into something she didn't understand.
"I'm working," she said carefully.
Vanessa glanced toward the manager.
"I'm sure arrangements can be made."
The manager straightened instantly.
"Of course."
Traitor.
Sabrina narrowed her eyes.
"Can't he just text me like a normal person?"
"I don't think Lucas Cooper has done anything normally in about ten years."
Fair point.
Vanessa reached into her bag and handed Sabrina a card with an address written neatly across the back.
"Seven o'clock tonight."
Sabrina stared at it.
Upper Manhattan.
Of course.
Expensive people always lived in places that sounded fictional.
"And if I say no?"
Vanessa tilted her head slightly.
"Then you say no."
Simple.
Direct.
Oddly reassuring.
Still suspicious though.
"What exactly does he want?" Sabrina asked again.
This time Vanessa hesitated.
Only briefly.
But Sabrina noticed.
"He believes there may be a mutually beneficial opportunity here."
Oh absolutely not.
That sounded like the beginning of a lawsuit or a cult.
"I'm not joining Scientology."
The manager closed his eyes like he was in physical pain.
Vanessa blinked once.
"...Good to know."
Sabrina folded her arms tighter.
"I'm serious."
"So am I."
For the first time, Vanessa's expression softened slightly.
"Look, Sabrina. Last night created a lot of attention. More than expected. Lucas's team wants to get ahead of it before the media turns it into something worse."
"Worse than strangers making edits of me online?"
"You'd be surprised."
Unfortunately, Sabrina believed her.
Vanessa checked the time on her phone.
"Seven o'clock. You can decide then whether you're interested."
Interested in what, exactly?
Before Sabrina could ask, Vanessa turned and walked toward the door.
Then paused.
"Oh," she added casually. "Don't read the comments."
Too late.
The second she left, Sabrina turned slowly toward her manager.
"...What just happened?"
He looked equally confused.
"I have absolutely no idea."
By six-thirty Sabrina still hadn't decided whether going was a terrible idea.
"It's definitely a terrible idea," Chloe said while digging through Sabrina's closet aggressively. "But in a hot, life-changing way."
"I could get kidnapped."
"You could get a Chanel bag."
"Those are not equal possibilities."
Chloe threw a black top onto Sabrina's bed.
"Wear this."
Sabrina stared at it.
"This is literally your shirt."
"And now it's your shirt emotionally."
Sabrina sat on the edge of the bed, anxiety twisting low in her stomach.
Their apartment suddenly felt smaller than usual.
Peeling paint.
Tiny kitchen.
Bills stacked near the microwave.
Normal.
Her life was normal.
Lucas Cooper belonged to a world of flashing cameras and million dollar penthouses and women who looked like they stepped out of perfume advertisements.
Not this.
Not her.
"So don't go," Chloe said more gently, noticing her expression.
Sabrina looked down at the card again.
Seven o'clock.
Mutually beneficial opportunity.
Something about the wording bothered her.
Cold.
Professional.
Calculated.
Like none of this had anything to do with actual human beings.
Which, she suspected, was probably how celebrity life worked.
Still...
A tiny part of her remained curious.
Not about Lucas Cooper exactly.
About the version of him she'd seen briefly on the balcony.
The tired one.
The real one.
Unfortunately curiosity had always been one of Sabrina's worst qualities.
By 7:15 she stood outside one of the most expensive apartment buildings she had ever seen in her life.
A doorman opened the entrance before she could touch it.
Of course.
The lobby alone probably cost more than her entire apartment building.
Marble floors.
Gold lighting.
Quiet elegance.
Rich people really hated normal furniture.
"You're here for Mr. Cooper," the receptionist said immediately.
Not a question.
Sabrina suddenly became very aware of her borrowed shirt and worn sneakers.
"Unfortunately."
The receptionist smiled politely like she heard responses like that every day.
A private elevator carried Sabrina upward.
Higher.
Higher.
Higher.
Each second tightened the strange nervous feeling in her chest.
Not excitement.
Definitely not excitement.
More like the feeling before stepping onto unstable ice.
The elevator doors opened directly into a massive penthouse.
Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked Manhattan in glittering waves of light.
The apartment looked beautiful in the same cold way art museums did.
Expensive.
Perfect.
Untouched.
And standing near the windows with a drink in one hand was Lucas Cooper.
He looked up as she entered.
For one brief second surprise crossed his face, like maybe he hadn't fully expected her to come.
Then the expression disappeared behind calm detachment.
"There she is," a male voice said somewhere nearby. "The internet's new obsession."
Sabrina turned.
A sharply dressed man sat on one of the couches scrolling through his phone.
Older than Lucas.
Sharp-eyed.
Expensive watch.
Definitely management.
Lucas took another sip of his drink.
"You're late."
Sabrina blinked.
Then narrowed her eyes immediately.
"You invited me here."
A pause.
Then, unexpectedly, the faintest hint of amusement flickered in Lucas's expression before disappearing again.
Interesting.