Love Like a Sinking Ship

The party at the reunion was in full swing when Liam, the former king of our high school, suddenly smashed his wine glass at my feet. Red wine, splattered with glass shards, stained my white dress, looking just like blood. “Willow Reid, I hear you’re exclusively servicing rich old men these days?” He loosened his tie, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. “How much for a night? For old times’ sake, I’ll take you for a month.” The private room fell silent. Every eye was a dagger aimed at me. Slowly, I knelt, picking up the broken glass piece by piece, not stopping even when my palm was sliced open. Then I looked up, a smile on my face. “Alright, Mr. Blackwood. But my rates have gone up. It’s by the minute now. Are you sure you can afford it?” His expression froze. I wiped the blood from my hand, adding, “After all, your fiancée approached me last month about a surrogacy, offering three million, and I turned her down.”