<h4>Chapter 62: Betting on Anna</h4>


    Anna’s POV


    Flowers. Goddamn too many flowers.


    My office had transformed into some botanical nightmare overnight. Roses, lilies, orchids expensive arrangements with cards attached from men whose names I barely recognized from Skyview City’s social circuit. The scent was overwhelming, cloying sweetness that made my stomach turn.


    "Ms. Shaw, another delivery just arrived," Rachel announced, her usualposure visibly tinged with disgust.


    "This makes seventeen today."


    I exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose as I stared at thetest monstrosity—an ostentatious arrangement of white roses and gold-painted leaves. The apanying card offered to gift me a sports car, asking only for one night with me in return.


    I felt nauseated. The online rumors about Samuel and me had unleashed a feeding frenzy. Apparently, Skyview City’s bachelors saw me as some prize to be imed—a business asset with a conveniently attractive package.


    "Get rid of them," I said, my voice sharp as a de. "All of them. Please tell my assistant to stop epting any deliveries."


    Hourster, my phone vibrated on the desk. Catherine’s name shed on the screen. I picked up, wedging the phone between my ear and shoulder as I continued typing.


    "Catherine? What’s up?"


    The response was a garbled mixture of slurred words and what sounded like ss clinking.


    "Annie... need you..." Her words were nearly unintelligible.


    I sat up straight, my full attention now on the call. "Catherine? Are you okay?


    Where exactly are you?"


    "Olympus Club...e quickly...


    " The line went dead.


    "Rachel!" I called, already grabbing my purse and coat. "We need to go to Olympus Club. Catherine’s—"


    Just as I stepped through the doors of Olympus Club, I heard Catherine’s voice-louder and more belligerent than I’d ever heard it.


    "You pathetic excuses for men! Who the hell do you think you are?"


    I followed themotion to the far corner, where Catherine stood swaying slightly, pointing an using finger at a group of well-dressed men seated around a table. Champagne bottles and sses littered the surface. I recognized one of the men as someone who had sent me flowers and invited me to dinner.


    Catherine’s eyes were bright with fury, her clothes slightly disheveled. When she spotted me, her face lit up. "Annie!


    There she is! The woman you’re all betting on like she’s a racehorse!"


    My blood ran cold. Betting?


    I approached slowly, Rachel following close behind. The men shifted ufortably, several unable to meet my gaze.


    "What’s going on here?" I asked, my voice deliberately calm.


    "Oh, Annie," Catherineughed, a harsh sound devoid of humor. "These gentlemen have been having the most fascinating discussion about you." She picked up a champagne flute, draining it before continuing. "Apparently, there’s a betting pool. Who’ll be the first to get Anna Shaw into bed.


    They’ve even set odds."


    My expression remained unchanged, despite the disgust and rage flooding through me.


    "It’s just a bit of fun," one of them offered weakly. "Nothing serious-"


    Catherine pointed at him, her finger inches from his face: "LOOK IN THE MIRROR AND ASK YOURSELF IF YOU’RE WORTHY OF ANNA! You’re not even good enough to shine her shoes!"


    The man’s face reddened with anger.


    "Catherine, you crazy woman. If it weren’t for your father’s position, l’a have pped you already."


    In one fluid motion, Catherine climbed onto the table, champagne bottle in hand. "Try it, asshole! I dare you! I promise I won’t go crying to Daddy."


    The men nced nervously at each other, aware of the scene they were creating. The surrounding area had gone quiet, other patrons watching with undisguised interest.


    Catherine swung the champagne bottle wildly, pointing it at each man in turn.


    "Listen up, everyone. Anyone who thinks they’re going to pursue Anna has to go through me first."


    To emphasize her point, she smashed the bottle against the edge of the table, sending ss and champagne spraying. Several men jumped back, their expensive suits now stained.


    "Catherine," I said quietly, taking her arm. "Let’s go."


    She allowed me to guide her down from the table, though her eyes never left the group of men. "Remember what I said," she snarled at them.


    Rachel helped me maneuver Catherine into the back seat of my car. She copsed against the leather, her head rolling back as the adrenaline seemed to drain out of her.


    "Those vultures," she muttered, eyes half-closed. "Circling around you like you’re some kind of prize."


    I arranged her morefortably, gently moving her head to rest on my shoulder.


    Before the driver could pull away, I rolled down my window and leveled onest cold stare at the group of men who had followed us outside. "Even your fathers show me respect when we meet. Who do you think you are?"


    As we pulled away from the curb, Rachel spoke from the front seat, her voice low with concern. "Ms. Shaw, something doesn’t feel right about this.


    It feels... orchestrated."


    I nodded, absently stroking Catherine’s hair as she drifted off to sleep against my shoulder. "Find out who organized this betting pool. Whoever’s behind it will lead us to our answer."


    Rachel nodded, already tapping notes into her phone.


    I turned my gaze out the window, watching the glittering skyline of Skyview City pass by. The city I’d fought so hard to im a ce in now felt hostile, full of predators waiting for me to show weakness.


    My thoughts drifted to my father.


    Would these men have dared to disrespect me this way if he were still alive? Since his death, I’d fought an uphill battle to maintain that respect, to prove I was more than just a pretty ceholder.


    At least my mother and grandmother remained insted from the ugliness.


    Later that night, as I was finally settling into bed, my phone lit up with a text from my contact in Sapphire Sky Hotel Room 3303.


    [Avable?)


    Despite my exhaustion and lingering anger, I felt a flicker of interest.


    [Yes) I replied simply.


    The hallway of Sapphire Sky Hotel’s exclusive top floor was quiet as I made my way to Room 3303. I knocked once, and the door opened immediately.


    The suite was dimly lit, with just enough light to make out the familiar silhouette of my anonymous partner.


    As I stepped inside, he moved toward me, his hand gently cupping my face as he leaned in, pressing his forehead against mine in a surprisingly intimate gesture.


    I pulled back, ufortable with the tenderness. "Skip the romance," I said coldly. "That’s not what this is about."


    I kept my emotions carefullypartmentalized as I reached for his shirt buttons. This was just physical-a transaction of pleasure, nothing more. No different from a vigorous workout session to release endorphins.


    As his hands moved over my body with practiced skill, I allowed myself to drift into sensation, letting the stress and humiliation of the day dissolve into something simpler, more primal.