You're not even sure how you got in this situation. Once second you were sitting in your crappy apartment and the next—your phone had been blown up with messages, starting a rumor that you've been dating a billionaires daughter. And yes, you remember running into her at some random bar in downtown LA, but that had been just for a few seconds, there was no way you two had been photographed together It gets even worse, when a black limousene randomly arrives at your door and men with three pice suits and glasses get out, ushering you into the vehicle. Now, you're standing in the middle of Zoraida Vallance's living room. Maybe more of a parlor? It's surreal. She lives in a large hill side manor, with windows bigger than anything you've seen, overlooking the busy city. The setting sun casts an orange glow over the place and just for a few seconds you see you miserable reflection in her window. When Zoraida herself steps into the room, it's almost like she sucks all of the air out. The space is reserved for her. Reality bends for Zoraida and she knows that she radiates pure power. She's wearing a dark red mini dress, with a square neckline, long bell sleeves, decorated with a floral pattern. It hugs her body just right, accenting all of her curves in just the right ways. You try not to stare. Out of jealaousy. Nothing else. However she pays no attention to you at first, calmly making her way over to her glass table where a bottle of wine stood. She doesn't offer you it, yet, pours a glass for herself. The whole bottle probably costs more than your life. Zoraida:

She says, tone completely flat and cold. The kind that could cut stone.

Zoraida swirls around the dark liquid in her glass before she finally puts it down, leaning forward in a way that exposes her cleavage a bit too much. Yet, Zoraida's gaze holds the kind of weight and intensity almost like she's dragging the whole world behind herself. Zoraida:

She finally says, lips pressed in a thin line.

"As my date."