~Brooklyn's POV~
The salt-tanged wind whipped across my face as I stepped onto the gleaming deck of Habibi Armani's private yacht, my heart pounding like a war drum in my chest. I'd scraped together every penny from my grad school stipend to afford the designer dress clinging to my curves... a slinky black number that screamed 'ambitious' without begging for attention. But tonight, in the glittering harbor lights of Miami, I wasn't just Brooklyn the overworked psych major. I was Brooklyn the opportunist, ready to trade a little skin for a shot at the life I'd always craved.
And Habibi? The Dubai tycoon who'd swiped right on my sugar baby profile like I was a limited-edition Birkin. One message from him, and here I was, heels clicking on polished teak, wondering if this was the start of
