Chapter 2: Another Identity

Trina's Point of View

After dropping Romeo off, I rushed home to get ready for work. My shift starts at 8 PM, and I barely had an hour left.

I work as a waitress at a popular bar in our area, which means my uniform is as tight and short as they come—designed to turn heads and make customers tip more. I put on some makeup, just enough to enhance my features, then grabbed my bag and stepped out of my room.

"Mama, I'm heading out!" I called before slipping out the door.

The moment I stepped outside, the warm night air wrapped around me, and—just my luck—I ran into a group of drunkards blocking the street.

"Trina, have a drink with us!" one of them slurred, raising his bottle.

I rolled my eyes. Here we go again.

"How about I smash that bottle over your head instead? Move, I'm in a hurry," I snapped, trying to walk past them.

"Whoa, feisty! Next time, let's drink together. Maybe I'll make you my midnight snack," one of them sneered.

I shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass. "Disgusting."

Bastards. Some of them even had wives and kids, yet here they were, throwing sleazy remarks at every passing woman.

By the time I reached the club, my heart was racing—not from fear, but from the adrenaline rush of nearly being late. If I clocked in even a minute past my shift, they'd deduct thirty minutes from my pay.

"Girl, you take that table," Sammy said, nudging me and pointing toward a group of men already looking our way. "They're getting rowdy."

The club pulsed with music, the air thick with sweat, alcohol, and desperation. The dim lighting and flashing neon made it easy for people to lose themselves here.

"Can I at least breathe first?" I huffed.

Sammy smirked. "Welcome to the jungle, babe."

With a sigh, I grabbed a tray, a notepad, and a pen before striding toward the table she pointed at.

"Good evening, Sir. May I take your order?" I asked, flashing the most professional smile I could muster.

The men at the table turned to look at me, their gazes crawling over my body like they had X-ray vision.

"Damn, this one's got the goods," one of them snickered.

I swallowed the urge to roll my eyes. I was used to this kind of attention, but that didn't mean I liked it.

"Give us a round of beers and your best pulutan," another one said.

I quickly jotted it down. "Anything else, Sir?"

"Yeah, get some ladies' drinks for the bitches at our table."

I bit my tongue, suppressing the urge to snap at them. If I were one of those girls, I'd be insulted, but judging by their giggles, they didn't seem to mind. I guess when money is involved, dignity becomes negotiable.

"Alright, Sir. I'll be right back."

I turned to leave but didn't expect to bump into someone. My tray slipped from my grip, sending my notepad and pen tumbling to the floor.

"Shit—"

Before I could crouch down, a hand reached out, picking up my things.

"Here," a deep voice said.

I looked up—and froze.

He was gorgeous. Sharp jawline, tousled hair, intense eyes, and lips that looked sinfully soft. And yet… something about him felt familiar.

"Thank you, Sir," I murmured, unable to look away.

Had we met before? At school? Was he a regular at the club? Or… was he a celebrity? Because damn, he looked like one.

My gaze lingered on his lips a little too long. What would they feel like if—

What the hell, brain?! Snap out of it, Trina! You weren't raised to be this thirsty!

"Miss?"

Holy—his voice was like velvet.

"S-Sorry?"

He smirked. "Nothing. Just that… your drool is about to fall."

What?!

I quickly wiped my lips, only to realize—there was nothing there.

His smirk widened, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Oh. My. God. Did he just mess with me?!

My brows shot up in irritation, but that only seemed to amuse him more.

"Excuse me, Sir," I said coolly, turning to walk away. But before I could take another step, he grabbed my wrist.

"Wait," he said. "I'm a customer. You can't just ignore me."

I took a deep breath, forcing myself to stay professional. "I apologize, Sir. Do you need something?"

"Yeah." His lips curled into a slow, knowing smile. "I need you."

…Wait, what?!

"Sir, if this is a joke, I'm not interested," I said, my voice polite but laced with sarcasm.

"It's not a joke," he said, still smirking. "I need you… to serve me."

Oh. Serve. Right. I mentally smacked myself for assuming otherwise.

"Of course, Sir. Let me find you a table, and I'll be right back."

As I walked away, I couldn't shake the weird feeling creeping up my spine.

Back at the rowdy table, I served their drinks and asked, "Is there anything else you need?"

"Yeah," one of them said, gesturing to his friend. "Sit with him. He doesn't have a girl with him."

I forced a smile. "Sorry, Sir. I don't do table service like that."

"We'll pay you. Just sit down."

I clenched my jaw. Here we go.

"Sir, like I said, I don't do that."

I turned to leave, but suddenly—a rough hand grabbed my arm.

"You're being a brat," he hissed. "We're customers. Do what we say!"

My blood boiled. Oh, hell no.

I swung my hand—and slapped him across the face.

The impact echoed through the club. The music stopped. People gasped.

"You—you just slapped me?!" he stammered, touching his cheek.

"Yes, I did! Want another one?! Who the hell do you think you are?! You're not God! Just because you have money doesn't mean I'll follow your every whim!"

His face turned red with rage. He grabbed my wrist—hard.

"Ahh! Let me go! You're hurting me!"

"Feisty, huh? You must not know who I am!"

I shut my eyes, bracing myself for whatever was coming—

"Aghh!"

The next thing I knew, the bastard was on the floor, groaning in pain.

A heavy boot pressed against his chest.

I gasped. It was him—the gorgeous stranger from earlier.

"Who the fuck are you?!" the guy on the floor sputtered.

The handsome man crouched down, staring him dead in the eye.

"Oh, I know exactly who you are. The son of Mr. Buenavista, right? But tell me, do you know who I am?"

I barely had time to process his words before he turned to me—his gaze softer, yet filled with something unreadable.

"Don't apologize to me."

My breath hitched.

"Apologize to my girlfriend."

…Wait. What?!

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