Larkin observed Georgia’s hesitation with a faint, knowing smile curling at the corners of his mouth. Beneath her struggle, a spark of greed gleamed clearly–she was hungry for something, and it showed in the way she weighed her options silently
You really are a greedy woman, he thought, amusement flickering in his mind The realization made him sigh quietly to himself. Her hunger–whether for survival, money, or some fragile hope was a tool he could wield. After all, he was wealthy beyond measure, and he knew how to leverage that advantage.
Minutes stretched between them in quiet tension before Georgia finally broke the silence. Her voice was soft but deliberate “What do you want me to do for this tip you’re offering?”
The question caught Larkin off guard for a moment. He hadn’t expected her to even ask. Most women in clubs, especially those he dealt with regularly, simply took the money and moved on. They didn’t bother negotiating or thinking twice greed, yes, but mixed with a resigned pragmatism. Yet here was Georgia, considering what she could offer in return.
“Nothing.” Larkin said smoothly, his voice low and almost tender. “Just sit beside me, and let me drive you back to your dorm.”
He thought the sweetness of the request might melt any woman’s resistance.
But Georgia’s face remained unreadable, emotion flickering faintly across her features as she considered.
Finally, she spoke calmly. “Then let me make you a cup of coffee.”
The unexpected offer struck Larkin anew, piquing a deep curiosity. What kind of woman was this, who pondered so carefully how to repay a simple tip with a gesture so humble? Why this need to balance the scales, even over something so
small?
She added quietly, “I’m sorry, I only have some coffee beans at my dorm. Nothing fancy.”
Chapter Unlocked, Enjoy Reading! Suddenly, Larkin understood. She had lingere
wasting time, but mulling over how to repay him. The careful calculations of someone who had little to give, but who refused to accept charity without offering something in return.
The wad of bills burned in his palm, a silent contrast between his abundance and her scarcity. It was a trivial amount to him–a few thousands–but to her, it was a fortune worth careful exchange.
For a long moment, Larkin simply stared at her under the pool of lamplight, watching her quiet dignity and restrained strength.
Finally, he nodded. “Alright.”
In a rare gesture, he unlocked his car, stepped out, and opened the passenger door for her with a gentleman’s grace that seemed at odds with his dark, predatory nature.
“Where’s your dorm?” he asked, his eyes briefly scanning her with faint surprise.
“Just drive. I’ll show you,” she said firmly. “And slow down, please.”
The car moved smoothly through the night, and soon they arrived at an aging apartment complex. Larkin stepped out and glanced up at the building with a skeptical frown.
“You live here?”
Georgia nodded, her voice quiet but steady. “Yes. It’s enough.”
He shrugged. “I thought the club would provide better housing for its employees.”
“Most girls don’t live here,” Georgia explained evenly. The others work in the busy district, close to shops and nightlife. But I need to save money. I can’t waste it on fancy rent.”
Together, they climbed the narrow stairwell. Georgia pulled out a brand–new key–the kind freshly handed out by the administration a few days earlier. The door creaked open on aging hinges.
Chapter 78
“Please, come in,” Georgia said softly.
She kept her words sparse–she had learned the hard way that her voice often grated on others‘ ears.
She placed her belongings down and headed to the small kitchen. Larkin found a chair with a view of the cramped room.
and settled in
Georgia moved deliberately. She boiled water slowly, opened a can of coffee beans, and placed them into a manual grinder. Her hands worked the crank with practiced patience, even as her movements betrayed an unfamiliarity with the ritual.
Once ground, she poured the coarse coffee into a French press, added boiling water, and set the timer.
The sharp, earthy aroma filled the cramped apartment, punctuating the quiet between them. Larkin recognized the scent immediately: cheap beans, nothing refined, but enough.
A short while later, Georgia emerged carrying a tray. On it sat a simple white porcelain cup filled with steaming coffee, accompanied by a small plate of biscuits.
“Here’s your coffee and biscuits, Sir,” she said, placing it carefully before him.
“You’re not going to have any?”
She smiled faintly, drying her hands on her skirt. “I ate at work.”
Larkin took a slow sip, letting the bitter liquid coat his tongue.
“You put your heart into this, he remarked softly.
Georgia’s gaze met his with a spark of unexpected openness. “I’ve always wanted to learn to make coffee–to make it for someone special. You’re the first to taste my coffee.”
He raised a brow. “You keep calling me Sir. Do you even know my name?”
She shook her head, silent.
To Georgia, names were irrelevant, especially those of customers. She didn’t say it aloud, but Larkin caught the subtle message in her quiet refusal.
With a small smile, Larkin pulled out his wallet again and placed another stack of bills before her.
“Let’s make a deal,” he said. “Remember my name. It’s Larkin. Larkin Nash. This money? It’s yours for remembering me.”
Georgia blinked in stunned silence, staring at the pile of cash before her.
“All I have to do is remember your name?” she asked, incredulous.
Larkin chuckled, eyes glearning. “Exactly.”
To him, securing her memory was just the first step in a longer game.
“It’s getting late. I should be going.”
Before Georgia could respond, Larkin leaned forward and brushed a gentle kiss on her forehead:
Her body stiffened instantly. She recoiled, pushing him away and pressing a trembling hand to the spot he had kissed.
“Please don’t do that,” she whispered, voice cracking with vulnerability.
I just had stitches taken out there, she thought sharply. Maybe I’d let him kiss my lips, but never there.
Her whole body trembled with a mix of fear and defiance.
Larkin said nothing, only narrowed his eyes, voice low and teasing, “Why not?”
