The Billionaire’s Fight For Redemption (Noah and Sierra) novel Chapter 238

“Do I really have to go?” I ask, still searching for an excuse. “I didn’t even bring a dress.”

We woke up about an hour and a half ago, had dinner, and now we’re getting ready to head out.

Lilly, of course, looks unreal. She’s in a black sequin halter dress paired with Louboutin heels. Her hair is pulled into a sleek ponytail, her makeup flawless. Soft enough to enhance her features, bold enough to command attention. Her grey eyes pop, and her red lips are the kind that make women question their sexuality.

She looks ready to dance the night away and have every man in the club trip over himself trying to get her attention. Meanwhile, I feel like a zombie.

Honestly, if I hadn’t already agreed to come with her, I would’ve stayed right here in bed.

“Relax,” she says, already rummaging through her things. “I’ve got you.”

She pulls out a navy-blue strapless dress and hands it to me.

I sigh, taking it, fully aware that there’s no escaping this now. When I come back dressed, I’m relieved to find that it’s not too tight.

“Now for your makeup,” she says, pushing me toward a chair.

“Nope,” I protest. “I’m not going full glam today.”

I grab my makeup bag and keep it simple. Foundation, concealer, mascara, and lip gloss. Just enough to look alive. Once we’re done, we head out.

At the club, we barely slow down before being directed to the VVIP line and ushered straight inside. No waiting. No questions. Just flashing lights, heavy bass, and a night I’m not entirely sure I’m ready for.

We’re assigned a host the moment we step inside, and she leads us through the crowd to our booth in the VVIP section.

“My name is Mary, and I’ll be your host tonight,” she says with a warm smile, pulling out a small notepad. “What can I get you?”

“I’ll have an espresso martini,” Lilly answers without hesitation.

“I’ll just have a Coke,” I say.

Mary jots it down and smiles again. “I’ll bring those right away.”

She disappears into the crowd, and for a moment, all that surrounds us is the thumping bass of the music and the shouts and laughter of drunk people letting loose.

I sink into the booth, letting the noise wash over me, wondering how long it’ll take before this night decides to get interesting.

“So,” Lilly asks, leaning back against the plush seat, eyes bright as she scans the room, “what do you think of Paris nightlife?”

I hum. “It’s not special. Just… meh.”

“Hater,” she says.

“I’m just stating facts.”

She snorts, lifting her glass. “Facts? You’ve spoken like a woman who is five minutes away from demanding her bed and a heating pad.”

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