Destiny desires

was nothing like the rundown dives Braxton was used to. It was a playground for the elite-dimly lit with deep crimson velvet, polished dark oak, and soft jazz echoing over an immaculate sound system. High-rollers, politicians, and anonymous executives paid thousands just for a booth. Braxton's new job was simple on the surface: manage VIP guest lists, handle private room reservations, and ensure discretion. The pay was five times what she made at the coffee shop. Julian, as it turned out, owned the place-or at least, he ran it.
For the first few weeks, it was a dream. Julian treated her like a trusted confidante, giving her autonomy and paying her in cash envelope bonuses. But story