Handsome Distractions

Maya looked up from her neatly organized desk. The quiet hum of the deserted Vellora Group office wrapped around her, heavy with the weight of a grueling, relentless workday. She rubbed her temples, offering her best friend a faint, exhausted smile. "I need to go home."

"That is so boring," Sienna groaned, refusing to accept the rejection. She rounded the desk and leaned over the pristine surface, her eyes gleaming with chaotic excitement. "Tonight, I've already reserved an exclusive private room at the Crimson Club. We are specifically celebrating your triumphant return to the company and your impending divorce."

Maya blinked, taken aback by the sheer enthusiasm radiating from her friend. "Crimson Club? Sienna, I'm really not in the mood for a noisy bar."

"I heard there is a fresh batch of gigolos," Sienna continued, practically vibrating with anticipation. She smirked, a wicked grin stretching across her lips. "Let me take you to experience a real night out."

Maya let out a soft laugh, shaking her head. Knowing Sienna, she would probably try to kiss the men the second they walked through the door. "Are you taking me to have fun, or do you just want to have fun yourself?"

Sienna ignored the teasing. She walked around the chair, wrapping her arms around Maya's neck in a loose, affectionate hold. "Darling, what's the point of us not sharing everything? Besides, you spent years trapped in that house pining for Desmond. You've probably forgotten what other handsome men look like. Come with me tonight, and I promise to satisfy you so well that you'll forget who Desmond even is by tomorrow morning."

The mention of her estranged husband sent a brief chill down Maya's spine, but she forced a chuckle. "Forget it. You can enjoy that kind of good thing by yourself. I'm not interested."

She reached for her bag, ready to dismiss the idea, but Sienna hastily grabbed her arm, digging her manicured nails in just enough to halt her escape. "Since you have nothing to do at an empty house, just accompany me. Plus, you're getting a divorce. Are you still going to remain faithful to Desmond?"

The question struck a nerve. Maya had no intention of remaining faithful to a ghost of a marriage, but the idea of a host club still felt incredibly foreign. Yet, seeing Sienna’s persistent, shamelessly pleading gaze, Maya felt her resolve crumble. She sighed heavily, her shoulders dropping. "Fine. But just this once."

Sienna threw her hands up, bursting into delighted laughter. "Got it! Let's go grab dinner first, then the night is ours."

Hours later, they stepped into the Crimson Club. The moment the heavy entrance doors swung open, deafening bass rattled Maya’s ribs. Intense neon lights swept across the packed first floor, illuminating a writhing sea of bodies on the dance floor. Cheers and rhythmic shouts echoed incessantly over the thumping music.

Sienna grabbed Maya’s hand, leading her straight past the chaotic main floor toward the VIP stairwell. The second floor housed exclusive private rooms, most featuring a massive, soundproof glass wall that offered a sprawling view of the energetic crowd below while sacrificing their own privacy to anyone walking down the corridor.

A sharply dressed server escorted them into a luxurious corner room. Plush velvet couches lined the space, framing a low crystal table. Minutes after their custom drink order arrived, the heavy door clicked open again.

Two impeccably handsome men walked in. They moved with practiced confidence, their tailored shirts unbuttoned just enough to hint at toned chests. Sienna’s eyes lit up immediately. She leaned back against the cushions, casting a triumphant look at Maya.

"May, I didn't lie to you, did I?" Sienna purred. "Which one do you like? Take your pick, and I'll claim the other."

The hosts at Crimson Club were strictly conversational companions. They drank, flirted, and entertained with specific skills—singing, mixing drinks, or performing sleight of hand. They did not provide sexual services, relying instead on charm and charisma to keep the wealthy clients spending money.

Maya cast a brief, hesitant glance over the two men. They were undeniably attractive, but she felt stiff and out of place in the lavish, charged environment. She smiled faintly at Sienna. "Why not keep both of them for yourself? You seem to like what you see."

"What? We should always share," Sienna insisted, already reaching out to pull the nearest man down onto the couch beside her. "The one closer to you is yours."

The second man, catching the cue effortlessly, closed the distance and slid onto the cushions beside Maya. He wasn't overly aggressive, maintaining a polite distance, but his dark eyes gleamed with undeniable interest.

"How should I address you, miss?" he asked, his voice smooth and practiced. "I'm Cole Barrett. Is there anything you'd like me to do tonight?"

Cole kept a charming smile plastered on his lips, though inside, his pulse quickened. He had entertained countless wealthy clients, but he had never been assigned to a woman who looked like Maya. Her beauty was striking and natural, lacking the artificial enhancements common among the club's regulars. He felt he had hit the jackpot tonight. If every client looked like her, he wouldn't hesitate to cross the line and provide sexual services. He leaned forward enthusiastically, eager to bridge the gap between them.

Maya shifted away slightly, giving him a flat, indifferent look. She reached for the liquor bottle, pouring her own drink instead of letting him serve her. "You don't need to do anything," she instructed smoothly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. "Just sit here quietly."

She took a sip of her drink, desperately regretting her decision to cave to Sienna's demands. The lavish atmosphere made her skin crawl.

Cole blinked, caught off guard by the blunt rejection. He quickly masked his surprise with a polite, professional smile, desperate to salvage the awkwardness of the interaction. "Well then, how about I sing a song for you instead? I actually sing quite well."

Maya simply nodded, her gaze drifting toward the glass wall. "Okay."

Cole queued up a soft, melodic track on the room's sound system. The smooth music filled the space, offering Maya a welcome distraction. She focused on the rhythm, trying to ignore the other side of the room where Sienna was already leaning intimately against her gigolo, shamelessly feeding him pieces of fruit from a silver platter.

Outside their soundproof sanctuary, the dimly lit corridor hummed with the distant bass of the lower floor. Wyatt Dalton strolled down the hall, his hands buried in his pockets. The known playboy had been practically living at his corporate office for days, dodging relentless pressure from his mother to settle down after a disastrous entanglement with a cunning starlet who had faked a pregnancy to trap him.

As Wyatt passed the row of glass-walled rooms, his casual gaze swept across the interiors. He stopped dead in his tracks outside one particular room.

Through the clear glass, he recognized a familiar profile. He blinked, stepping closer to ensure the neon lighting wasn't playing tricks on his eyes. It was Maya. Desmond's conventionally proper, notoriously conservative secret wife. And she was sitting in a high-end host club, inches away from a handsome gigolo.

Amusement and bewilderment washed over Wyatt. A wicked smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. This was scandalous gossip.

Without a second thought, Wyatt turned on his heel and slipped into an even larger VIP suite located just down the hall. The heavy door sealed shut behind him, cutting off the club's noise.

Inside, the atmosphere was dark and moody. Desmond Radcliff sat in a shadowed corner, exuding a freezing, untouchable aura. He swirled the amber liquid in his crystal tumbler, his expression stoic and aloof. Across from him, Oliver Kensington and Preston Adler lounged against the leather sofas, both flanked by attractive women in revealing attire.

"Wyatt," Oliver called out, a teasing smirk on his face. "You're over half an hour late. The entire tab should be on you tonight."

Wyatt ignored the jab, striding to the center of the room. "Oliver, shut up for a second. Do you guys know exactly who I saw just now?"

"Who?" Oliver asked, his interest piquing. "Your crazy ex-girlfriend? The one who tried to force a marriage with a fake pregnancy test?"

Wyatt’s face darkened, annoyed by the sharp reminder of his messy love life. "Watch your words, Oliver."

Oliver just chuckled, leaning back. "Come on, spill the beans. Don't keep us in suspense. You're late, and we're being lenient by not making you down three cups already. Don't dawdle."

Wyatt’s wicked grin returned. He turned his attention directly to the dark corner. "Believe it or not, I saw Desmond's wife."

Desmond’s drink stopped halfway to his mouth. The casual, aloof demeanor vanished in a millisecond. He froze, his knuckles turning white around the heavy crystal glass. Slowly, his cold, predatory gaze snapped to Wyatt, pinning the playboy to the spot.

"Are you sure?" Desmond demanded, his voice dropping an octave, carrying a dangerous edge.

"Positive," Wyatt gloated, thrilled to deliver the explosive news. "She came with a friend, and they are even with gigolos right now. When I walked past, she was watching the guy sing. Desmond, it seriously looks like she might be having an affair..."

Before Wyatt could even finish his sentence, Desmond slammed his heavy crystal glass down onto the glass coffee table. The sharp crack echoed through the room, the tumbler nearly shattering from the impact. Liquor sloshed over the rim, staining the pristine surface. He shot up from his seat, his jaw clenched so tightly it ached, and stormed toward the door like a hurricane.

*She's really pushing her luck,* Desmond thought furiously, his blood boiling as he yanked the heavy door open. *First asking for a divorce, then blocking me entirely, and now openly playing around with cheap gigolos in public.*

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving a stunned silence in the VIP suite.

Wyatt scratched the back of his neck, bewildered by the sheer hostility of the reaction. He looked over at the others. "I don't get it. I thought he only loved Audrey. Why does he care so much about Maya being with a gigolo?"

Oliver scoffed loudly, dismissing the women beside him with a wave of his hand. "Don't be an idiot, Wyatt. Even if he dislikes Maya, they are still a couple. No husband can tolerate his wife openly getting cozy with other men in public. It’s a matter of pride."

Beside them, Preston remained entirely silent. He didn't offer a single word of commentary. Instead, his hand tightened so fiercely into a fist by his side that his knuckles strained white against his skin. Without breaking his stoic expression, Preston picked up his glass and downed the burning liquor in one intense, uninterrupted swallow.

Oblivious to the shifting tension, Wyatt sat down on the empty couch. "By the way, do you guys know who Maya's friend is? The one she came with?"

"Who?" Oliver asked lazily, picking up his phone.

"Sienna. The girl whose family went bankrupt a few years back."

The moment that specific name left Wyatt's mouth, Oliver’s casual, amused demeanor fractured. His expression instantly darkened into a gloomy, menacing scowl. His jaw locked. "Who did you say? Sienna?"

"Yeah," Wyatt nodded, grabbing a drink. "We used to attend parties together. What’s wrong?"

Oliver let out a low, humorless sneer. "It's nothing. I was just surprised."

Abruptly, Oliver reached out and grabbed the scantily-clad club woman who had been hovering near his side. He pulled her exceptionally close, pressing her chest against his arm. Lifting his phone, Oliver snapped a highly suggestive selfie of the two of them. His thumb flew across the screen, forcefully posting the image directly to his Instagram story.

The woman looked up at him, her eyes softening with affectionate hope. She thought the gesture meant he was genuinely interested. "Mr. Kensington, what are you..."

Oliver didn't even look at her. His voice cut through her delusion like a shard of ice. "Don't misunderstand. I just want someone specific to see it."

The color instantly drained from the woman's face as she realized she was nothing more than a prop.

Back down the dimly lit corridor, the atmosphere in the glass-walled room had taken a turn.

Sienna had quickly noticed Maya's lackluster, bored mood. Refusing to let her best friend sit in the corner like a statue, Sienna forcibly dragged her into a high-stakes game of Truth or Dare.

Unfortunately, Maya lost the round.

"Dare," Maya sighed heavily, knowing better than to choose truth with Sienna.

Sienna’s eyes gleamed with triumph. She pointed a manicured finger toward the fruit platter on the table, then shifted her gaze to Cole, who was still sitting politely nearby. "I dare you to feed him a piece of fruit. Directly into his mouth."

Maya grimaced. She looked at Cole, who offered an encouraging, hopeful smile, clearly eager for the physical contact. She wanted to refuse, but a dare was a dare.

Reluctantly, Maya leaned forward. Her slender fingers picked up a juicy piece of sliced melon from the silver platter. She let out a quiet breath, slowly reaching out across the space between them.

Cole leaned in, his dark eyes locking onto hers as his lips parted slightly in anticipation.

Just as her slender fingers neared the gigolo's parted lips, a deafening crash shattered the room's music.

The heavy door to their private room was violently, aggressively pushed open, slamming hard against the wall with enough force to rattle the hinges. Maya flinched, her hand freezing mid-air.

An extremely cold voice, radiating absolute fury, echoes from the doorway. "Maya!"