Billie.
The night was freezing, but desperate times called for desperate, slightly ridiculous measures. I had seen this trend on TikTok—a surefire way to summon good luck and, hopefully, a decent relationship. Given my luck lately, I was willing to try anything short of selling my soul.
Step one: Eat twelve grapes. Easy. I love grapes.
Step two: Make sure the moon is full. Check. (Though I doubted the moon cared about my dating life.)
Step three: It had to be December 31st. Perfect timing.
Step four: After devouring the grapes, I had to throw myself into a river like some kind of discount mermaid summoning prosperity.
This definitely felt like witchcraft. Or madness. But I had nothing to lose.
My year had been an absolute train wreck. No job, student loans multiplying like rabbits, debt collectors treating me like their long-lost child, and, to top it all off, my ex cheated on me and immediately married the girl he cheated with. If karma existed, she was clearly ignoring me.
So, there I was, standing at the edge of the river like some kind of grape-stuffed lunatic, waiting for the clock to strike midnight. The fireworks exploded in the sky, signaling the new year.
"Here goes nothing," I muttered before plunging into the icy water.
Instant regret. Absolute mistake. My soul nearly left my body.
I flipped my hair dramatically—because if I was going to do something this insane, I might as well look like a movie heroine while doing it. Then I stomped back to my car, teeth chattering, dignity barely intact.
As I wrapped my robe around me, I heard a twig snap. My breath hitched.
I glanced around. Nothing but darkness. No one in sight. Just my overactive imagination trying to convince me I had summoned a river demon instead of good luck.
Shivering, I climbed into my car, which, if my luck didn't turn around, would probably be repossessed by the end of the week.
This better work.
~~~~~
Ding!
I shot up in bed like a vampire hearing church bells. My email notification.
"Please, please, please, let this NOT be another Uber Eats ad or Spotify begging me to go premium," I muttered, hands shaking as I swiped my screen.
"Dear Miss Castor, after thoroughly reviewing your application, we are pleased to inform you that we have accepted you and would like to welcome you to our team of dedicated individuals. Please reply to this email, and we will provide details on your reporting time."
"YESSSS!" I shrieked, nearly falling off my bed. Take that, bad luck! The TikTok ritual actually worked! I was officially employed. At a cleaning company, sure, but at $250 an hour? Hell Yeah! The gods were finally on my side.
I threw on a blue dress, laced up my sneakers, slung a bag over my shoulder, and tied my copper-colored hair into a high ponytail. Then, blasting "Happy" by Pharrell Williams at full volume, I danced my way into my car and sped off.
Well, almost sped off—because, just as I was vibing, a matte black Aston Martin zoomed past, nearly shoving me off the road like I was an NPC in his personal racing game.
"WHAT THE HELL?!" I swerved, my heart doing a gymnastics routine.
Luckily, there was a stoplight ahead, so I pulled up beside the reckless bastard to give him a piece of my mind.
His window rolled down. My anger froze for a moment.
Wolf-cut hair. Chiseled jaw. Dark shades. A face sculpted by the gods but ruined by his asshole energy.
"You skip driving school, little girl?" he sneered. "Get your refund, since you clearly can't drive."
I blinked. Then, with all the grace of a pissed-off gremlin, I shot him a middle finger.
"FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!"
Green light. The bastard smirked and sped off like an arrogant bat out of hell.
Rich kids. No manners, no consideration, just daddy's money and an attitude problem.
Shame, though. He was kinda hot. But not hot enough to get a pass.
~~~~~
When I arrived at my workplace, my jaw dropped.
The building stretched so high, I was convinced it touched the clouds. If my broke ass had one sign of good luck, this was it.
Inside, I was greeted by Mrs. Smith, the staff manager, who had the aura of a woman who took no nonsense and had probably witnessed multiple workplace breakdowns.
"You will be cleaning the penthouse on the 18th floor," she instructed. "Tardiness is not tolerated. Work like your life depends on it."
"Yes, ma'am! I will give my best!" I chirped.
She gave me a single approving nod, then pressed the elevator button like she was launching me into battle.
The doors opened, and I stepped into hell.
Bottles everywhere. Alcohol stench thick in the air. Rich tobacco smell clinging to the furniture. It was less of a penthouse and more of a crime scene.
I changed into my uniform—a purple knee-length dress paired with pristine white sneakers—and got to work.
Hours passed, but by the time I finished, I was glowing with pride. I had transformed this post-apocalyptic disaster zone back into a billionaire's luxury paradise.
I was just wiping down the counter, admiring my masterpiece, when—
Ding!
The elevator doors clicked open.
A man in a suit stepped inside, his presence so sharp it cut through the air. My brows furrowed. Something about him felt familiar.
He turned, locked eyes with me.
"You!" we both snapped in unison.
Oh, hell no.
Standing before me was none other than the arrogant, reckless, middle-finger-worthy bastard from the road.
What the actual hell was he doing here?!
~~~~~~~~~~
Lexus.
Last night was wild.
Dane threw a party in my penthouse—again. I don't know why I let him talk me into these things. I hate parties. I hate gatherings, noise, celebrations. My idea of a good time is being alone with a drink, a cigar, and my thoughts.
So I left.
I drove to the park, seeking solitude. The air was crisp, the scent of damp earth mixing with the distant smoke of fireworks exploding overhead. I lit a cigar and exhaled, watching the embers flicker as the night sky burned with color.
Then I saw her.
Standing near the river, munching on grapes. Twelve, one after another. A New Year's Eve tradition.
She dropped her robe.
And walked straight into the water. Naked.
I stilled, barely breathing as I watched her silhouette move beneath the moonlight. She was a masterpiece. The kind of body sculptors would have killed to mold—hourglass curves, thick in all the right places, perfect proportions.
Flawless.
She emerged from the water, flipping her hair back in a way that belonged in a shampoo commercial. I squinted, trying to make out her face, but the shadows were unkind.
"Think you saw a ghost?" Dane's voice yanked me back to reality. I turned to see him smirking, hands in his pockets. "A New Year's Eve spirit? That's what happens when you ditch the party early."
I exhaled slowly. "She wasn't a ghost. She was real. And she was…breathtaking."
Dane chuckled. "Let me guess—you wanna find her?"
I ran a hand through my hair. "I can't get her out of my head."
Even in board meetings the next morning, my mind wandered to her—the goddess by the river.
And yet, the universe had a twisted sense of humor.
Because instead of fate delivering her to me, it sent something else.
A road menace in a tiny, beat-up Vitz.
That little pest, the one who blocked my way and flipped me off like she had a death wish.
Two women. One haunting my dreams, the other my patience.
And guess which one fate decided to throw into my life?
The damn road menace.