Linda Hemsway. Twenty-five years old, orphan and not married. No career, no friends. A few years ago, everything she had cared about had vanished in an instant. Her parents' death in a train crash, her sister's departure to Clemene a place that Linda had had no idea existed until then. Linda had been modeling and running a fashion house for about two years after her high school thinking all was well, until life had proved her wrong. That fateful day when she had lost both her parents three and a half years ago. Goodness it was horrible! She stumbled and knocked herself of her treacherous thoughts. A bottle of vodka in one hand and a ladies' pass in the other, Linda almost fell as her stiletto pulled a prank on her. Carefully, she stood firm, held her bottle before her and staggered out of the club. The light s flashed on her cute skimpy dress and she found her path away from the club, in a direction opposite to where she'd come from.
Three hours later, an engine roared ruefully as its driver came to a stop. A few inches away from his tall frame, in the middle of the road, a solitary figure lay. With a money-pass and shatters of a broken bottle inches away from the figure's body. For a moment, he thought she was dead, only a closer movement to shake him out of his horror. He loved the grace that settled on her face while she slept in the middle of the road. The hot brunette thing from the club. Damnit! She had left him yearning for a bigger show in the club and now she had even afforded getting him out of his car. Bill bit his lips in frustration. The woman was ruining her life for Christ's sake! And she was not just any woman. She was a hot woman who looked like spoilt brains. Wasting her life, not on exhaustion or an abusive husband and some stubborn kid. But on a stupid goddamn bottle of Vodka.