Jenna Roland nodded in sudden understanding.

She leaned closer to Stella Laurent and whispered, "Which is the most expensive liquor here?"

Stella rattled off a list with practiced ease. "The 1991 Lafite Rothschild is the priciest, followed by Ace of Spades, Royal Salute, Martell XO..."

Jenna's eyes lit up.

So pushing high-end alcohol was the key to making money.

Stella led her to the back to retrieve the bottles.

Every bottle had to be registered under the promoter's name in the system for commission tracking.

While waiting, Stella swiftly prepared fruit platters and glasses.

Four servers carried the drinks and snacks into the VIP room in single file.

Stella expertly uncorked and aerated the wine.

Mr. Chen's gaze lingered on Jenna. "First day?"

She flashed a professional smile. "Yes. I hope you'll take care of me, Mr. Chen."

"With a beauty like you here, we'll definitely visit more often," he said, eyes crinkling with amusement.

Mr. Wu chimed in. "Mr. Roscente is lucky to have someone like you."

Mr. Li didn't hold back his praise. "You and Stella are the most stunning girls in this club."

Jenna silently thanked the stars that no coworkers overheard.

She knelt gracefully to pour drinks.

"This toast is for all of you. May your businesses thrive." Jenna downed her glass in one go.

The men followed suit enthusiastically.

Just when she thought they could leave, Stella pulled her back to keep entertaining.

Half an hour later, they finally escaped.

In the hallway, Jenna rubbed her flushed cheeks. "This feels more like being an escort."

Stella shrugged helplessly. "Now you know money doesn't come easy."

"But it is fast cash," Jenna admitted.

"Remember—happy customers mean big tips." Stella pinched her cheek. "Don't forget me when you strike it rich."

Manager Patrick appeared abruptly. "Stella, Room 304 needs help."

After Stella left, he turned to Jenna. "You take Room 888. New faces are always refreshing."

Jenna took a deep breath and walked alone toward the private suite.

The moment she opened the door, her blood ran cold.

The man in the black shirt lounging on the sofa was none other than Ethan Roscente—her husband of two days.

Jenna froze in the doorway, paralyzed.

"Come in," Gavin Valentine urged.

Steeling herself, she entered while stealing a glance at Ethan.

His expression was thunderous, eyes dark with brewing fury.

Jenna's heart pounded wildly.

Tristan Ashcroft studied her. "New here?"

"First day," she replied tightly.

Gavin asked with interest, "What do you recommend?"

Jenna forced herself to focus. "The 1991 Lafite is twelve thousand, Ace of Spades eight thousand eight hundred..."

After flawlessly listing prices, she added, "For distinguished gentlemen like yourselves, only Lafite and Ace of Spades are worthy. Buy eight bottles and get the ninth half-price. You can store unfinished bottles here."

The flattery drew pleased smiles from the group.

Gavin turned to Ethan. "What'll you have?"

"Whatever," Ethan said coldly, returning to his phone without another glance.