The Playboy’s Gamble

The chandeliers illuminated the ballroom with a golden hue, their light twirling over the polished marble floors. I anxiously pulled at the edge of my silk lavender dress, sensing I was out of place in this ocean of luxury. My closest friend Beatrice had urged me to attend the Ashford Grand Hotel gala. "It will be an unforgettable night," she promised. However, while I enjoyed my champagne and observed the Los Angeles elite mingling, I couldn’t shake the feeling of not fitting in.

Beatrice, on the other hand, seemed to thrive in this environment. She looked stunning as always, her emerald-green dress perfectly matching her sharp eyes as she scanned the room with purpose.

“Relax, Stella,” she said, her smile warm but with a flicker of impatience. “You look amazing. Trust me, no one can resist you tonight. Especially him.”

“Him?” I echoed, frowning slightly.

Before she could answer, a deep, velvety voice interrupted. “Good evening, ladies.”

I turned, and my breath caught in my throat. Standing before us was Jack Ashford. Yes, *that* Jack Ashford. The billionaire playboy whose name was synonymous with charm and scandal. He looked even more striking in person. His tailored navy suit fit him perfectly, his dark brown hair was effortlessly styled, and his piercing black eyes seemed to see right through me.

“Stella Hayes,” he said, extending a hand. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

My heart raced as I took his hand, his touch warm and confident. “You… know who I am?”

“Beatrice has told me all about you,” he replied with a smile that was equal parts charming and disarming. “But I must say, her description didn’t do you justice.”

Beside me, Beatrice laughed, although her hold on the champagne glass was tense. “I mentioned she’s special,” she said, her tone playful.

I experienced a mix of flattery and discomfort beneath Jack's stare. His reputation was well known. This man gathered hearts as if they were trophies, yet he was wholly focused on me at this moment.

“Would you care for a dance?” Jack asked, offering his hand again.

I hesitated, glancing at Beatrice. She gave me an encouraging nod, so against my better judgment, I placed my hand in Jack’s. He led me to the dance floor as if he’d done it a thousand times before.

The song was changed to a slow waltz, Jack held my waist and my cheeks turned red. He moved with ease, guiding me effortlessly.

“You’re different,” he said softly, his eyes locked onto mine.

“How do you mean?” I asked, my voice was shaking because I could not help but wonder why Jack was interested in me.

“ You are not like others here,” he replied. “ You are real and I love that about you”.

I wasn’t sure if I should be happy about this or cautious. Was this one of his games of trying to get me? I wanted to believe him but the stories about him kept appearing in my mind.

The dance ended too quickly, and Jack leaned in closer and said calmly, “I’d like to see you again Stella. Just the two of us.

My heart raced, but I forced a fake smile. “I don't think I’m your type,” I said quietly.

“That is exactly why I want to see you again. You are different” Jacked said. I could hear my heart jumping for joy, but I didn’t show it.

The rest of the night passed in a blur, Jack sat by my side and his charm wrapped around me like a blanket, well that was how I felt. I wasn’t bothered about what anyone would say.

Jack escorted me to my car after the party and I felt like not letting his hand go as he said good night. I drove home with excitement, was I falling for Jack?

Back in the ballroom, Beatrice sipped her drink, her emerald eyes narrowing as she watched me leave. She’d planned this evening to the smallest detail, ensuring I’d meet Jack. But how he looked at me—with something resembling genuine interest—wasn’t part of her plan.

The following week, I couldn’t get Jack out of my head. So, when he called and invited me to dinner, I hesitated but eventually said yes.

Jack was already seated waiting for me at a private table, his smile was as captivating as I could remember. I smiled back, scanning the restaurant he chose. It was nothing short of luxury, away from the regular haunts.

“Tell me about yourself Stella”, Jacked asked.

“ Well, I am just a simple girl from a simple home”. “ I don’t know my mom and my dad died when I was little”

“Oh! I am sorry about that Stella”, he said.

“Tell me everything Stella, I am so interested to know everything about you. I told you you were different”.

My heart fluttered, his attention was intoxicating, and I couldn’t help but feel drawn to him.

When we were done with dinner, Jack walked me to my car and surprised me by gently cupping my face and pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips.

My mind froze, and when we pulled apart, his dark eyes searched mine, as if waiting for permission to continue.

“I’ll call you,” he said, his voice low and smooth.

I didn’t realize he was no longer kissing me because I closed my eyes and wanted more. When I opened my eyes, he smiled and said good night.

As I drove home, my fingers pressed to my lips, and I remembered the kiss. Was this real? Was Jack in love with me? I kept smiling till I got home.

But what I didn’t know was that Jack returned to his penthouse that night to a gathering of his friends. Beatrice was among them, her expression unreadable as she sipped her wine.

“So, how’s the bet going?” one of them asked, smirking.

Jack hesitated, his jaw tightening. “It’s… complicated.”

Beatrice raised an eyebrow. “Complicated? Don’t tell me you’re falling for her.”

Jack didn’t reply, his thoughts a tangled mess. He hadn’t expected me to be so genuine, so captivating. But the weight of the bet hung over him, a cruel reminder of the game he’d willingly entered.

As the room buzzed with laughter and chatter, his phone buzzed with a message. It was from Beatrice: *Don’t forget your end of the deal.*

Jack clenched his jaw, conflicted.