As Delilah navigated through the traffic, her mind raced. Her heart pounded in her chest as anger coursed through her veins.
She replayed the conversation in her mind, analyzing every word, every expression. Hunter's audacity, his confidence— it infuriated her.
But beneath the anger, there was something else. A sliver of doubt, a hint of vulnerability. Hunter's words echoed in her head. Was she really prostituting herself for money?
Wasn't it a noble cause, taking from the rich and arrogant and giving to the less privileged to make something of themselves so they wouldn't be tread upon by the rich?
Did it matter if she had sex with her targets? She wasn't entirely having sex with them for money. It was for pleasure too, since she had no desire to be in a stable relationship.