Chapter Text

Rey had grown up poor and filthy, scraping by in a world that seemed designed to keep people like her down. She had nothing—no family connections, no trust fund, no fancy degree to open doors. Hell, she didn't even have money for a better education. All she had was a GED that she'd forced herself to get at fifteen, studying in the broken fluorescent light of whatever foster home would take her that month, determined to get out of the system and do something—anything—for herself.

Maybe it was genetics, some cruel twist of fate, but she'd discovered she had a talent for making drinks. Good drinks. The kind that made rich assholes forget their problems for a few hours. Wasn't that just some fucking dumb irony? She was good at mixing the same alcohol that had caused her own parents to choose bottles over their daughter. The same poison that had landed her in foster care in the first place, bouncing from house to house like a piece of unwanted furniture.

But Rey had learned early that survival meant using whatever advantages you had, no matter how bitter they tasted.

She had one thing going for her—she was pretty. Or at least that's what she was told, over and over, by the parade of old rich bastards who frequented the Skywalker Club. Men who could probably buy a fucking island without blinking, who'd never lifted a finger to get anything they wanted in their entire privileged lives. They looked at her like she was just another luxury item they could purchase.

So she used it. So what?

Rey had no illusions about what she was doing. She'd leave some hotel bed in the morning with a nice fat check that would last her a good while, enough to cover rent and food and maybe even save a little. When no one picked her up, she'd work double shifts at the bar, serving drinks to the same men who might proposition her later. She didn't care about their judgment or their assumptions. She just wanted to live her life without ever having to worry about being homeless and hungry again.

Never again would she be that kid digging through dumpsters behind restaurants, hoping to find something that wasn't completely spoiled. Never again would she lie awake on a stranger's couch, wondering if this foster family would last longer than the others, or if she'd be packing her single garbage bag of belongings again next week.

The money meant security. It meant control. It meant never having to be without a roof on her head or food in her stomach.

Rey had built her life one transaction at a time, one night at a time, one check at a time. She'd turned her body into a business and her beauty into currency, and she wasn't ashamed of it. Shame was a luxury she couldn't afford.

Her friends Rose and Finn had gotten lucky—they'd each snagged rich husbands who spoiled them rotten. Rose had married some high-end bank accountant who bought her jewelry just because it was Tuesday. Finn had landed himself a loaded retired Air Force vet who got both pension and disability payments, treating Finn like a prince.

They meant well when they told her she should up her game, find a sucker to snag so she could live the good life too. But Rey wasn't sure she was ready for that kind of commitment yet. Marriage meant being tied down, meant having to play the loving wife act twenty-four seven instead of just for a few hours at a time.

Besides, these old wrinkled fucks weren't even good lays. Most of them could barely get it up, and their sperm count was probably too fucking low to get her pregnant anyway. So whatever. At least with her current arrangement, she could take their money and leave in the morning without having to pretend to care about their golf games or their stock portfolios for the rest of her life.

Survival was all that mattered. Everything else was just a bonus.

The crystal chandelier cast fractured light across the mahogany bar, each shard catching the amber liquid Rey poured with practiced precision. The Skywalker Club—named after some long-dead railroad baron—reeked of old money and older men. She'd grown numb to both.

"Another martini, sweetheart?" The voice belonged to a pharmaceutical executive whose wife had been dead three years and whose hands wandered like his moral compass. Rey smiled the smile she'd perfected—sultry enough to promise, distant enough to maintain control.

"Of course, Mr. Palpatine." She reached for the gin, letting her fingers brush his as she set the glass down. The wedding ring indent on his finger had faded months ago, but the tan line of wealth never would.

By closing time, she'd earned enough in tips and subtle propositions to cover rent for two months. Not bad for a Tuesday. She was wiping down the bar when Rose texted:

Hux bought me a Cartier bracelet today. Just because. You need to find your whale, Rey.

Rey stared at the message, thumb hovering over the keyboard. Rose had married a bank VP who treated her like a prized possession. Finn had snagged a retired Air Force colonel who doted on him with the desperation of a man who'd never expected to find love at sixty-two. They meant well, she knew, but their advice always tasted like pity wrapped in Hermès.

The next evening brought the usual suspects. Senator Casterfo held court in the corner booth, his laugh booming over the string quartet. Judge Tarkin nursed his whiskey neat while eyeing the new server with predatory interest. Rey moved between them like a dancer who'd memorized every step of this particular waltz.

She was polishing glasses when he walked in.

Not old—maybe early thirties. Dark hair disheveled like he'd been running his hands through it. His white shirt was wrinkled, tie loosened, top button undone. He looked like wealth wearing exhaustion, and something about that combination made her pause.

He chose the far end of the bar, away from the clusters of power brokers and their bought companions. Rey approached with her usual smile ready.

"What can I get you?"

"Rum. Neat." His voice was rough, like he'd been shouting or hadn't spoken in hours.

She poured Flor de Caña, the good stuff they reserved for clients who'd know the difference. When she set it down, he drained it in one swallow.

"Long day?" she asked, already reaching for the bottle.

He set the glass down carefully, precisely, like a man trying very hard to maintain control. "You could say that."

She refilled his glass, noting the way his eyes followed her movements. Not leering—studying. Like he was trying to solve a puzzle.

"I'm Rey," she said, leaning against the bar. Close enough to seem interested, far enough to retreat if needed.

"Ben." He lifted the glass but didn't drink. "You work here long?"

"Three years." She tilted her head, letting her hair catch the light. "You don't look familiar. New to the club?"

"Just moved back to the city actually. I received membership here from my grandfathers." Something bitter flickered across his face. "Inherited it along with everything else."

Ah. Old money, then. The kind that came with trust funds and family secrets. Rey had learned to read the signs—new money flaunted, old money whispered.

"Lucky you," she said, keeping her voice light.

Ben's laugh was sharp. "Is it?"

He finished his second drink and signaled for another. Rey obliged, watching him carefully. Most of her clients were predictable—they wanted to feel powerful, desired, important. This one felt different. Dangerous in a way that had nothing to do with money.

"What do you do?" she asked, wiping down the bar between them.

"I was a lawyer at Ren’s Firm." Was. Past tense. "Until this morning."

"Fired?"

"Quit." He met her eyes directly. "Some battles aren't worth fighting."

Rey felt something stir in her chest—recognition, maybe. She'd learned young that the world was divided into those who fought and those who surrendered. She'd always assumed the rich belonged to the latter category.

"What will you do now?"

Ben shrugged. "Figure it out, I suppose. Hard to care about justice when the system's rigged from the start."

"The system's always rigged," Rey said. "Question is whether you're willing to play by different rules."

Something shifted in his expression. "And what rules do you play by?"

The question felt loaded, weighted with more than casual curiosity. Rey studied his face—the sharp jawline, the dark eyes that seemed to see too much. He was attractive in a way that made her forget to calculate the angles.

"Survival," she said simply. "Whatever it takes."

Ben nodded slowly. "I know that feeling."

Rey felt the familiar pull of opportunity, but something else too—something that made her want to lean closer instead of stepping back.

"Another round?" she asked.

"Just two more, for me and you." He reached for his wallet. "On me. For a fellow survivor." he said

He smiled—the first genuine expression she'd seen from him.

"Thank you."

As the night wound down and the last clients stumbled toward their drivers, Rey found herself stealing glances at the dark-haired man who'd upended her evening routine. He'd switched to water an hour ago, but hadn't left. Just sat there, watching the show with eyes that seemed to catalog every small cruelty, every whispered transaction.

When last call finally came, he stood and left a hundred-dollar tip on a thirty-dollar tab.

"Rey," he said, and her name sounded different in his voice. "Would you like to get coffee sometime? Somewhere that doesn't smell like cigar smoke and desperation?"

She stared at him, caught off guard. In three years, no one had asked her to coffee. Sure she gets asked to have dinner inside a 5 star hotel room away from their wives—but never coffee.

"I don't date," she said automatically.

"Good thing I'm not asking for a date." He smiled again, and she felt something dangerous flutter in her stomach. "Just coffee?"

Rey looked around the empty bar, at the life she'd built from nothing and necessity. Rose and Finn would tell her to play the long game, to find out how much money he really had. But something about Ben made her want to forget about games entirely.

"There's a place on Fifth Street," she heard herself say. "Poe's Coffee. Thursday morning?"

"I'll be there."

As he walked away, Rey smirked to herself. Old money, a trust fund, and he wasn't completely repulsive to look at. Maybe she'd found her whale after all. Rose and Finn would be proud—she was finally thinking long-term.

Rey arrived at Poe's Coffee forty minutes before it opened, pacing the sidewalk like a caged animal. She'd spent an hour getting ready—wiping down her cleanest shoes until they almost looked new, squeezing into her tightest jeans, and choosing a tank top that would show off her assets without the distraction of a bra. Every choice was calculated, strategic.

Her foot tapped against the pavement as she waited inside, fingers worrying at her nails. What if he didn't show? What if she'd misread the signals? Rich men were fickle—she'd learned that the hard way.

Then he walked in, and Rey felt her shoulders relax. Target acquired.

He looked different in daylight, wearing dark jeans and a simple gray sweater. Still handsome, still carrying himself with that careful control she'd noticed at the bar.

"You're early," he said, sliding into the booth across from her.

"I like to be punctual." She gave him her practiced smile. "Coffee's on you, right?"

Ben nodded, and Rey ordered something complicated and expensive. She didn't particularly like coffee, but free was free, and she'd learned to take whatever she could get in this world.

As they talked, she found herself genuinely listening instead of just waiting for an opening. His voice was deeper in the quiet coffee shop, rougher around the edges when he talked. There was something almost... nice about it.

"So you're joining your mother's firm?" she asked, leaning forward just enough to give him a better view.

"Organa & Associates. Corporate law." He seemed uncomfortable with the admission. "It pays well."

Very well, if Rey's research was accurate. The Organa name was plastered on half the buildings in the financial district.

Jackpot.

"That's impressive," she said, letting her fingers brush his across the table. "I bet you're good at what you do."

His lips twitched—almost a smile. "We'll see."

When she mentioned needing to get to work, he walked her partway to the club. "Maybe I'll see you tonight?" she asked, giving him the sultry smile that had never failed her.

"Maybe."

He showed up during the dinner rush, taking the same seat at the end of the bar. Rey served her usual clients—Senator Casterfo's wandering hands, Judge Tarkin's lewd comments—but found herself glancing toward Ben more often than was professional.

When she brought him his rum, he left another hundred-dollar tip.

"You don't have to do that," she said, though she was already palming the bills.

"I know." His eyes met hers. "I want to."

Good tipper, decent conversation, and not completely repulsive. Rey was starting to think she'd hit the lottery.

It didn't take much to seduce him. A few lingering touches, some careful questions about his day, the suggestion that maybe they could go somewhere quieter. He booked a room at the Ritz-Carlton without batting an eye.

The elevator ride was charged with anticipation. Rey had done this dance a hundred times, but something felt different. Maybe it was his age, or the way he looked at her like she was more than just a transaction.

The sex was... unexpected.

If Rey was honest, she hadn't expected the sex to be memorable. That wasn't how this worked. There were rules to these encounters, laws as predictable as gravity: he would want to feel virile, desired, maybe a little bit dangerous; she would let him, acting out pleasure with all the skill of a seasoned professional, and when it was over she'd smile, slip back into her armor, and walk away with a story to tell her friends and a little extra cash in her pocket. But as she lay back against the thousand-thread-count sheets and watched Ben fumble with the condoms—awkwardly, with a kind of sincerity no one in her world bothered to fake.

He didn't push or paw, didn't rush to the main event as if afraid she would vanish if he took too long. He kissed her as though it might be the only chance he'd ever get, and when she surrendered to the press of his body. He asked her what she liked. He listened when she answered, and more than that—he remembered, circling back to the spots that made her sigh, the pressure and rhythm she never bothered to articulate because most men couldn't be taught.

Rey couldn't remember the last time she'd felt actual pleasure instead of just going through the motions. Most of her clients were over quickly, leaving her to fake satisfaction while counting the minutes until she could collect her payment. But Ben took his time, seemed genuinely interested in her responses. He was attentive, skilled, and—bonus—actually attractive enough that she didn't have to close her eyes and think about paying rent.

When she woke up the next morning, she was alone.

Rey sat up, scanning the suite for any sign of him. No note, no envelope on the nightstand, no crisp bills tucked discreetly into her purse. Just the lingering scent of his cologne and the rumpled sheets as evidence he'd been there at all.

She huffed, almost offended. Did he think last night was some kind of... date? That she'd slept with him for free?

No matter. The hotel room was beautiful, all marble and Egyptian cotton, and the shower had better water pressure than her entire apartment building. At least the sex had been good—very good, actually. That was more than she could say for most of her clients.

But as she stood under the scalding spray, Rey couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted. For the first time in years, she'd forgotten to watch the clock, forgotten to calculate the angles. She'd just... felt.

And that was dangerous territory for someone in her line of work.

Chapter Text

The next evening, there he was again. Same seat, same order. Rey approached with renewed confidence, letting her hip brush against his arm as she set down the rum.

"Good day at the office?" she asked, noting the way his eyes followed her movements.

"Better now." He left another generous tip, and Rey felt that familiar thrill of a hunt going well.

"You know," she said, leaning against the bar, "I get off at eleven."

Ben's mouth twitched—an almost-smile. "I know a place that serves great steak."

The restaurant was the kind of place Rey had only seen in movies—white tablecloths, crystal glasses, waiters who called her "madame" without a trace of irony. She ordered the most expensive thing on the menu and savored every bite of the perfectly cooked ribeye. When was the last time she'd eaten steak? When was the last time she'd eaten anywhere that didn't require exact change?

"This is amazing," she said, not bothering to hide her pleasure.

Ben watched her with something that might have been amusement. "You act like you've never had a good meal before."

"Maybe I haven't." She met his eyes directly. "Not everyone grows up with trust funds and family law firms."

Something flickered across his face—guilt maybe. "No, I suppose they don't."

When dinner was over, he led her to a sleek black car that probably cost more than she'd make in five years. The leather seats were heated, and the ride was so smooth she barely felt the city streets beneath them.

"Where do you live?" he asked as they pulled away from the restaurant.

Rey's stomach clenched. Her studio apartment with its broken radiator and questionable plumbing wasn't exactly the kind of place you brought home to wealthy lawyers. "Actually," she said, letting her hand rest on his thigh, "maybe I could see your place instead?"

That almost-smile again. "Sure."

His condo was enormous—floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city, furniture that looked like it belonged in a magazine. Rey tried not to gawk as he poured them both wine, but she couldn't help running her fingers along the marble countertop.

"Nice place," she said, aiming for casual.

"It's home." He handed her the glass, and their fingers brushed. "For now."

The bedroom was arctic-cold, central air that actually worked instead of the ancient fan that barely stirred the air in her sweatbox apartment. She shivered as he helped her out of her clothes, and he immediately adjusted the thermostat.

"Better?"

"Much." And it was. Everything about this was better—the sheets, the way he touched her like she was something precious, the way he made her feel like she was drowning in pleasure. It really is a bonus that the sex is good.

In the morning, he invited her to shower with him. The bathroom made hers look like a janitors closet, with a rainfall showerhead that felt like heaven against her skin. When Ben's hands joined the soap and water, Rey found herself leaning into his touch, almost forgetting why she was there. She's having too much fun in the shower with him.

They ate breakfast together—real breakfast, not just coffee and whatever she could scrounge from the bar's kitchen. Eggs Benedict and fresh fruit and orange juice that actually tasted like oranges.

"I need to head to work," he said eventually, checking his watch.

"Of course." Rey started to gather her things, but he stopped her.

"James can drive you wherever you need to go." He was already reaching for his phone. "James? I need you to take Rey home."

A personal driver. Of course he had a personal driver.

As the black town car pulled up to her building, Rey felt something settle in her chest. Not disappointment at the lack of payment—something else. Something that felt dangerously like hope.

She didn't want a check this time. She wanted something bigger, something permanent. She wanted him.

Watching the luxury car disappear into traffic, Rey made her decision. Ben Solo was going to be hers. Not just for a night or a weekend, but for good. Rose and Finn had found their golden tickets—now it was her turn.

She wasn't just looking for a whale anymore. She was looking for a ring.

Was this what dating was? Rey wasn't sure she'd ever really done it before—not like this. Sleeping at his place more nights than her own, waking up to coffee that didn't taste like burnt water, wearing his shirts when she padded around his kitchen in the morning. The sex was a given, expected, but she found herself looking forward to it instead of just enduring it. Hell, she more than looked forward to it.

Everything about Ben's world was a revelation. The heated car seats, the restaurant meals that didn't come from a drive-through, the shower that had enough pressure to actually rinse shampoo from her hair. But it was more than just the luxury—it was the way he treated her. Like she was something to be worshipped instead of just used.

She liked it. Far too much to let him go.

One night, while he was asleep beside her, Rey used his laptop to look him up. Benjamin Solo, son of former Senator Leia Organa, heir to the Organa fortune. Harvard Law degree, trust fund worth more than some small countries' GDP. This man had everything she'd ever wanted, and she was going to make sure she got it.

"Research?" Ben's voice made her jump. He was awake, watching her with amusement.

"Just curious about the man I'm sleeping with," she said, not bothering to close the browser. "Impressive resume."

"All inherited." There was something bitter in his voice. "I didn't earn any of it."

"So?" Rey turned to face him. "You think I care how you got it?"

Ben studied her face for a long moment. "No, I suppose you don't."

The first time he took her to a business function, Rey thought she might actually pass out from excitement. The dress he bought her cost more than three months of rent—emerald green silk that hugged every curve and made her feel like she belonged in this world of crystal chandeliers and champagne toasts.

"You look beautiful," he said, adjusting her diamond necklace—another gift she'd never take off if she could help it.

"I clean up nice," she agreed, admiring herself in the mirror.

The event was everything she'd imagined and more. Ben's colleagues were polite but distant, their wives sizing her up with calculating glances. Rey didn't care. She belonged here now, or at least she would soon enough.

"This is Rey," Ben said to a partner from his firm, his hand possessive on her waist. "Rey, this is Harrison Ford, senior partner."

"Pleasure to meet you," Harrison said, though his eyes lingered on her neckline just a moment too long.

Ben poured her a glass of wine—something aged and expensive that tasted like liquid gold. Rey had never experienced anything so smooth, so rich. She wanted to drink it forever.

"Having fun?" Ben asked, leaning close to her ear.

"More than you know." She smiled up at him, and for once, it wasn't calculated. She genuinely was having fun. This world, this life—she could get used to it. She could make it hers.

That night, as they lay in his enormous bed, Rey made her decision. She didn't care if he wanted a prenup when they eventually got married. She didn't care about any of the legal details. All she had to do was make him happy, keep him satisfied, and she'd never have to worry about being hungry or cold or alone again.

Ben Solo was hers now. She just had to make sure he knew it too.

Rey should have expected that Ben's mother wouldn't like her. Leia Organa was a woman who'd built and maintained a fortune through shrewd intelligence and ruthless determination—of course she'd spot a gold digger from a mile away. Rey understood the logic, even respected it in a way. But understanding didn't make it any less frustrating.

"So, Rey," Leia said over dinner at the family's estate, her voice polite but cold. "Ben tells me you work at a bar?"

"I do." Rey kept her voice level, her posture straight. She'd practiced this. "The Skywalker Club."

"How... interesting." Leia's smile could have cut glass. "And what are your long-term career goals?"

Rey felt Ben tense beside her, but she didn't need him to rescue her. "I'm exploring my options," she said diplomatically.

Ben's father, Han, snorted from across the table. "Leave the girl alone, Leia. Not everyone needs a ten-year plan."

Rey decided she liked Han immediately. He ate with his elbows on the table, didn't give a damn about proper silverware, and seemed genuinely amused by his wife's interrogation tactics.

The Organa estate was more castle than house—sprawling grounds, marble floors, rooms that probably had their own zip codes. Rey tried not to gawk as Ben showed her to their guest room, but it was hard not to be impressed. This was what real wealth looked like.

Around midnight, she woke to find Ben's side of the bed empty. Rey slipped out quietly, padding through the maze of hallways in her bare feet. The house was so enormous she got turned around twice before she heard voices drifting from what looked like a study.

"—need to be careful about who you're getting involved with," Leia was saying.

Rey froze, pressing herself against the wall.

"I'm fine, Mom," Ben replied, his voice tired.

"This Rey girl is clearly only after your money. It's written all over her face."

Rey rolled her eyes. As if she was trying to hide it.

"She's not," Ben said firmly.

"Ben, please. I've seen a dozen girls like her circle around this family. They're all the same—pretty, desperate, and willing to do whatever it takes to land a rich husband."

"I didn't ask for your opinion," Ben's voice had an edge now.

"Well, you're getting it anyway." Leia's tone softened slightly. "I just want you to be smart about this. If you're going to keep seeing her, at least protect yourself. Get a prenup."

Silence stretched between them. Rey held her breath, waiting for Ben's response, but none came.

She'd heard enough. Rey crept back to the guest room, sliding under the expensive sheets and staring at the ceiling. She didn't need Leia Organa's approval—she only needed Ben's. And from the way he'd defended her, she was pretty sure she had it.

Let his mother worry about prenups and gold diggers. Rey had already made her choice. Ben Solo was hers, and she wasn't letting go.

After meeting Ben's family, Rey couldn't shake the image of Leia's cold, calculating stare. The woman saw right through her, and Rey wondered if maybe Ben would eventually listen to his mother and dump her. The thought made her stomach twist with something she didn't want to examine too closely.

But Rey had always been a strategist, a survivor who planned three moves ahead. If Ben was going to leave her anyway, maybe she could secure her future in a different way.

If she got pregnant, he wouldn't be able to just walk away. And if he did? Well, then she'd get a fat child support check from the Organa family fortune. Her kid could go to those fancy private schools, have all the opportunities Rey never had. The child would be set for life, and when they grew up successful and wealthy, they'd take care of their mother.

It was like hitting the jackpot, really, if you thought about it strategically.

So the next time they were in bed together, when Ben reached for the nightstand drawer, Rey caught his wrist.

"We can stop using those," she said, trying to keep her voice casual. "I'm clean, I swear."

Ben paused and looked at her for a long moment. Something flickered in his eyes—suspicion? Confusion?

"Well, what if I'm the one who's not clean?" he asked.

Rey stopped, narrowing her eyes at him. "You're not?"

Ben shrugged, already tearing open the wrapper. "Better safe than sorry."

He slid the condom on, and Rey bit back her frustration. Fine. If he gave her an STD, she could probably sue him for that too.

But as Ben's hands found her skin, as he kissed her with that careful tenderness she was still getting used to, Rey felt that unfamiliar warmth in her chest again. The same feeling that made her forget about calculations and contingency plans.

The Organa family stable was something out of a fairy tale—rolling green hills dotted with thoroughbreds, wooden fences that stretched to the horizon. Rey had never been on a horse before, but Ben was patient, his hands steady on her waist as he helped her into the saddle.

"Just relax," he said, walking alongside her horse. "She can sense if you're tense."

The mare was gentle, following Ben's horse along the winding trails. Rey found herself genuinely enjoying the rhythm of the ride, the way the countryside opened up around them. When they stopped to feed the horses carrots from Ben's pocket, she caught herself smiling—not the calculated expression she'd perfected, but something real.

"You're good at this," Ben said, watching her stroke the horse's neck.

"I like it." The admission surprised her. "I like... all of this."

Ben smiled back, and Rey felt something flutter in her chest. His smile was different from the practiced expressions of her usual clients—softer, more genuine. She was starting to really like that smile.

Chapter Text

The next week, Rey let herself into Ben's condo with the key he'd given her. He was hunched over his laptop at the dining table, typing furiously with a deep frown creasing his forehead.

"What should we eat for dinner?" she asked, setting her purse down.

Without looking up, Ben pushed his phone across the table toward her. "Order whatever you want."

Free food. Rey's eyes lit up as she picked up his phone. She was already planning to order enough for leftovers to take back to her place, maybe some expensive sushi or that fancy Thai place she'd always wanted to try.

But when she glanced back at Ben, her enthusiasm dimmed. He looked miserable—hair disheveled from running his hands through it, shoulders tense with stress. His frown made his lips look pouty and cute, but Rey found she didn't like seeing him upset.

"Aren't you gonna eat with me?" she asked.

Ben shook his head without looking up. "I need to focus on this case."

He sighed heavily and dragged his hands through his hair again. Rey set the phone down and walked over to him, sliding her hands onto his shoulders from behind.

"You look too stressed," she said, working her thumbs into the knots in his muscles. "Why don't you take a break for tonight?"

She really didn't like seeing him like this. It made something twist uncomfortably in her stomach.

"Please?" She leaned down to kiss his cheek, putting on her best pout. "For me?"

Ben's hands stilled on the keyboard. After a moment, he closed the laptop with a frustrated sigh.

They ended up on the couch with Filipino food—lumpia and pancit and way too much rice. Rey rubbed Ben's full belly afterward, enjoying the way he relaxed into the cushions.

"Is work really that hard?" she asked.

"My mother's been piling a lot on me," Ben said tiredly. "There's this case for one of her senator friends, and she expects me to work miracles."

Rey frowned. "That's not fair."

Ben shrugged. "I'm her son. Of course she expects the best."

Rey pursed her lips, thinking. "I think you're great regardless."

Ben raised an eyebrow, looking genuinely surprised. "Since when do you pay attention to my work?"

"I just know from how hard you work," Rey said, shrugging back at him.

Ben smiled at her—that soft, genuine smile she was growing to love. There it was. Rey felt that flutter in her chest again, stronger this time.

Later, as they moved to the bedroom, Rey realized something odd. She was the one initiating, her hands reaching for his shirt, her mouth finding his neck. Usually she waited for clients to make the first move, but with Ben... she didn't mind taking the lead.

It was just because he was really good at sex, she told herself. That was the only reason. She wasn't used to good sex, that was all. He was just... good at everything. Good at kissing, good at holding her, good at touching her in ways that made her forget to count the minutes.

And maybe she didn't mind staying the night afterward either. Only because he was really warm and cuddly, and her apartment sucked sometimes. That was all.

Nothing more than that.

Rey woke up to the sound of Ben cursing softly in the kitchen. She checked the clock—6:30 AM. Way too early for her usual schedule, but Ben had an important deposition today and had been tossing and turning all night.

She padded out in one of his dress shirts, finding him standing over the coffee maker with a frustrated expression, his tie hanging loose around his neck.

"It's broken," he said without looking up. "The damn thing just died."

Rey could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw was set. This wasn't really about the coffee maker—he was nervous about the case, about proving himself to the partners at his firm.

"Sit," she said, nudging him toward the breakfast bar. "I'll make you something."

"Rey, you don't have to—"

"I said sit."

She rummaged through his cabinets until she found instant coffee, the cheap stuff he probably kept for emergencies. While the water heated, she noticed he hadn't eaten anything either. The man was going to crash before noon if he kept this up.

Rey made him coffee the way she'd learned he liked it—black, strong enough to wake the dead—and scrambled some eggs with cheese. Nothing fancy, but it was food and caffeine, which was what he needed.

"Here," she said, setting the plate in front of him.

Ben stared at the simple breakfast like she'd presented him with a gourmet meal. "You didn't have to do this."

"Eat," Rey said, already moving to fix his tie properly. Her fingers worked the silk with practiced ease—she'd learned how to do this watching her foster fathers get ready for their construction jobs. "You can't win a case if you pass out from hunger."

As she adjusted his collar, she found herself really looking at his face. The slight stubble he'd missed while shaving, the worry lines around his eyes, the way his mouth softened when he was grateful. When had she started noticing these details?

"Thank you," he said quietly, and something in his voice made her pause.

"It's just eggs," she said, stepping back.

"It's not just eggs." Ben caught her hand before she could move away completely. "No one's ever... taken care of me like this before."

Rey felt something twist in her chest—not unpleasant, but unfamiliar. Dangerous. "Your mother never made you breakfast?"

Ben's laugh was dry. "Leia Organa doesn't make breakfast. She has people for that."

"Well, I'm not people," Rey said, then immediately wondered why she'd said it. What was she, then?

Ben's thumb traced over her knuckles. "No, you're not."

The moment stretched between them, charged with something Rey couldn't quite name. She should pull away, make some joke about payment or tips. That's what she always did—kept things light, transactional, safe.

Instead, she found herself leaning closer, studying the gold flecks in his dark eyes as he ate his food and when he was done he would stare right back at her smiling.

"You're going to be late," she said finally.

"Right." His hand still holding hers. "Will you be here when I get back?"

The question caught her off guard. Usually, her schedule was her own business. Usually, men didn't ask—they just expected her to be available when convenient.

"Do you want me to be?" she heard herself ask.

"Yes."

Such a simple word.

"Then I'll be here," she said.

Ben smiled—that soft, genuine smile she was growing addicted to—and finally released her hand to grab his briefcase.

"Wish me luck?"

"You don't need luck," Rey said automatically. "You're good at what you do."

Ben paused at the door, looking surprised by her confidence in him. "See you tonight, sweetheart."

After he left, Rey sat in his expensive kitchen, wearing his shirt, surrounded by the scent of his cologne, and tried to figure out when this had stopped being about the money.

When had she started caring whether he won his cases? When had making him breakfast become something she wanted to do instead of something she calculated would earn her points? When had the thought of him coming home to her started feeling less like work and more like... home?

Rey shook her head, pushing the thoughts away. Ben was her whale. Her golden ticket. The fact that he was also sweet and grateful and looked at her like she mattered—that was just a bonus.

Rose's house was exactly what Rey had expected—sprawling, pristine, and decorated with the kind of expensive furniture that screamed "my husband makes serious money." Rose gave her the full tour, practically glowing as she showed off the marble countertops, the walk-in closets, and the master bathroom with a tub big enough to swim in.

"And Brendol just got another raise," Rose said as they settled in the living room with wine that probably cost more than Rey's monthly rent. "So we're thinking about getting a new car. Maybe something European this time."

Rey nodded politely, though she couldn't quite understand the logic. Rose didn't even drive—she had a driver for that. Rey had Ben's driver James at her disposal when Ben was at work, but personally, she wouldn't spend unnecessary money on a new car when the old one worked just fine. Yes, she liked money because it provided comfort and security, but she wasn't keen on spending it on every new shiny thing. She'd rather save it, just in case.

"How's work going?" Rose asked, settling back into her designer sofa.

Rey shrugged. "It's fine. The tips are still good whenever they feel like tipping me or remember to."

Rose winked. "Still doing the 'tipping,' huh? I told you to just find a big whale and lock him down."

Rey rolled her eyes. "Actually, I did find a whale."

Rose's eyebrows shot up, her smile turning predatory with interest. "Oh really? Tell me everything about this old geezer"

"His name is Ben," Rey said, trying to keep her voice casual. "He's not that much older than me—just about a decade. He just got a job at his mother's law firm, though she's been stressing him out by piling too many cases on him. I don't like seeing him so stressed."

Rose interrupted, her wine glass halfway to her lips. "Wait a second... you sound like... you like him."

Rey's mouth opened and closed like a fish. "We're not even married yet! I'm just not wanting to have him die from stress before I tie him down, that's all."

"He isn't THAT old, remember?" Rose winked teasingly.

Rey quickly steered the conversation away, asking about Rose's anniversary vacation plans and listening to her friend chatter about spa resorts and private beaches. But she could feel Rose watching her with knowing eyes.

When Rey was getting ready to leave, Rose walked her to the door with a softer expression than usual.

"You know, it's okay to like him," Rose said quietly. "I mean, I'm stuck with Brendol, but at least I like him even if he is twenty years older than me." She paused, a genuine smile crossing her face. "Actually, we decided to have a child together. I'm kind of excited about it."

Rey felt something twist in her stomach—not jealousy exactly, but something close to it. "That's... that's great, Rose."

On the ride back to Ben's place, Rey found herself staring out the window, her mind wandering to dangerous territory. What would her and Ben's children look like? Would they have his dark hair and her stubborn streak? Would they—

Rey shook her head violently, physically trying to dislodge the thought. What was she doing? She didn't even know if Ben wanted kids, let alone with her. She was supposed to be focused on securing her future, not daydreaming about some domestic fantasy that would probably never happen.

But as James pulled up to Ben's building, Rey couldn't quite shake the image of a little girl with Ben's gentle eyes and her own determination. And that terrified her more than Leia's disapproval ever could.

Rey had never been more grateful for proper table manners than she was right now. At least she knew which fork to use, even if her hands felt like they might shake every time she reached for her water glass.

Leia had insisted on a family dinner at Ben's condo, arriving with Han and enough takeout from some expensive restaurant to feed a small army. Rey had changed clothes three times before settling on a simple black dress that she hoped said "respectable girlfriend" instead of "obvious gold digger."

The first twenty minutes had gone relatively smoothly. Han told stories about his shipping business, Rey complimented the food, and Ben seemed relaxed for once. But Rey should have known it wouldn't last.

"Remind me now," Leia said, delicately cutting her salmon with surgical precision. "How long have you and Ben been together now?"

Rey swallowed her bite of risotto carefully. "About three months."

"Three months." Leia's tone was perfectly neutral, which somehow made it more terrifying. "And Ben, how serious would you say this relationship is?"

Ben's fork paused halfway to his mouth. "Mom—"

"I'm just curious about your intentions," Leia continued smoothly. "After all, Rey seems like a lovely girl. I'm sure she deserves to know where she stands."

Rey felt heat creep up her neck. She was being dissected at Ben's own dinner table, and there was nowhere to hide.

"We're taking things as they come," Ben said carefully.

"How refreshing," Leia smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "And Rey, tell me about your family. Where are your parents? What do they do?"

Rey set her fork down, buying herself time while her mind raced. The truth—foster care, absent parents, growing up in the system..

"They're not around anymore," Rey said quietly.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Leia said, though her tone suggested she wasn't particularly surprised. "Any siblings? Extended family?"

"No."

"So you're all alone in the world?" There was something almost predatory in the way Leia leaned forward. "That must be difficult. Especially financially."

"Leia," Han warned, glancing up from his plate for the first time.

"What? I'm just making conversation." Leia's smile was sharp as a blade. "I'm sure Rey understands that as Ben's mother, I'm naturally curious about the people in his life. Especially someone who's become so... significant."

Rey felt the trap closing around her. Every answer she gave would be wrong, would confirm that she was exactly what Leia thought she was—a nobody with nothing, clinging to Ben's wealth like a parasite.

"I understand completely," Rey said, forcing her voice to stay level. "You want to protect your son."

"Exactly." Leia's eyes glittered with satisfaction. "I'm sure you can appreciate that, having grown up without that kind of family support yourself."

The words were meant to wound, and they did. Rey felt something sharp twist in her chest, but she kept her expression calm. She'd survived worse than Leia Organa's disapproval.

"Rey's doing just fine on her own," Ben said suddenly, his voice tight with anger. "She doesn't need family money or connections to be worth something."

"Of course not," Leia agreed, though her tone suggested the opposite. "I'm sure she's very... resourceful."

The word hung in the air like an accusation. Rey knew exactly what Leia meant by "resourceful," and from the way Ben's jaw clenched, so did he.

"I think that's enough," Ben said.

"Ben, I'm just—"

"Enough, Mom."

The silence that followed was thick with tension. Rey stared at her barely touched plate, wondering if it would be worse to excuse herself or to sit through the rest of this interrogation.

"Well," Han said finally, reaching for the wine bottle. "Who wants dessert?"

Chapter Text

At another work function a few weeks later, Rey had settled into the routine. Designer dress, diamond earrings, Ben's hand warm on her back as he introduced her around the room.

"I'll grab us some wine," she offered when he got pulled into a conversation about corporate tax law.

"Thanks, babe."

The endearment sent a little thrill through her. She was making her way back from the bar, two glasses of vintage Bordeaux in hand, when a familiar voice stopped her cold.

"Well, well. Look what we have here."

Rey turned to find Marcus Snoke—Senator Snoke from the club. One of her regulars until she'd started spending all her time with Ben.

"Marcus." She kept her voice level. "What a surprise."

His eyes raked over her dress, her jewelry, the obvious expense of everything she wore. "What exactly are you doing here, Rey? You clearly don't belong."

Rey's grip tightened on the wine glasses. "I'm here with my date."

"Your date?" Snoke chuckled, stepping closer. "Come now, we both know what you really are. Tell you what—I'll pay double your usual rate if you come with me tonight. For old time's sake."

The offer hung between them like poison. Rey had done it before—ditched dates for better money, higher bidders. It was just business. But looking at Snoke's leering face, she felt nothing but disgust.

"I'm not interested," she said firmly.

Snoke's hand shot out, gripping her waist. "Don't play coy with me, sweetheart. I know what you are—nothing but a desperate whore clutching at whatever crumbs get thrown your way."

The words hit like a physical blow. Rey tried to keep her composure, but something cracked inside her chest. Before she could stop herself, she threw both glasses of wine directly into his face.

The vintage Bordeaux dripped down his expensive suit as gasps echoed around them. Rey's eyes went wide, realizing what she'd done. The conversation had stopped, everyone staring at the spectacle. She caught sight of Leia across the room, her face a mask of cold disapproval.

Where was Ben? Rey stood frozen, humiliation burning through her veins.

Then a warm coat settled around her shoulders, and Ben was there, his arm protective around her waist.

"Let's get out of here," he said quietly.

"Control your whore," Snoke snarled, wiping his face.

The word "whore" had barely left his lips when Ben's fist connected with his jaw. Snoke staggered backward, shock replacing his smugness.

Rey had never had anyone defend her like that. Ever.

Ben took her hand and led her through the stunned crowd, past his mother's disapproving stare, out into the cool night air. He didn't say anything during the ride home, just kept one hand on her knee while he drove.

Back at his apartment, Rey finally broke.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed, the tears coming in waves she couldn't control. "I ruined everything. Your mother already hates me, and now—"

"Hey." Ben pulled her into his arms, his voice gentle. "Most people there are dicks anyway, especially Snoke. You don't have anything to apologize for."

Rey buried her face against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. "He's right you know—"

"No." Ben's arms tightened around her. "He was wrong. You're not nothing, not to me."

They didn't have sex that night. Ben just held her while she cried, his hand stroking her hair, pressing soft kisses to her forehead. It was the most intimate thing Rey had ever experienced—being held not because someone wanted something from her, but because someone cared that she was hurting.

Back at the bar, Rey found herself going through the motions. She poured drinks and took orders, but the sultry smiles had disappeared. Instead, during quiet moments, she'd pull out her phone to text Ben. Little things—how her shift was going, a funny story about a new drink she mixed, just wanting to hear from him.

He always texted back. Always. And every time her phone buzzed with his response, Rey couldn't help but smile.

He was a good whale, she told herself. It was just a bonus that he made her smile.

The next work function, Ben surprised her. "You don't have to come if you don't want to," he said, adjusting his tie in the mirror. "After what happened last time..."

Rey took the out gratefully. "I think I'll stay in tonight."

But an hour after he left, she was restless. Bored. And—strangely—she missed him. The realization caught her off guard. When was the last time she'd missed anyone?

"James?" she called the driver. "Can you take me to Ben's event?"

She dressed carefully in the midnight blue gown Ben had bought her, the one that made her feel like she belonged in his world. As James drove through the city, Rey found herself wondering if Ben would smile when he saw her. Such a weird thing to want—his happiness at seeing her.

The event was in full swing when she arrived. Rey made her way through the crowd, scanning for Ben's familiar profile. When she finally spotted him, her face fell.

He was talking to a woman. A beautiful woman with glossy dark hair and a smile that seemed to light up her entire face. She was laughing at something Ben said, her hand resting on his chest in a gesture that seemed far too intimate for Rey's liking.

She felt it in her stomach—a sharp, burning pain that made no sense. Her eyes began to sting, and she blinked rapidly. Why were they watering? She hadn't eaten anything spicy.

Ben is just a whale, she told herself frantically. Just a whale. Just a means to an end. Just—

But she couldn't finish the thought. Her vision blurred, and suddenly she couldn't breathe properly. Rey stumbled toward the exit, desperate for air.

Outside, she gulped down the cool night air, pressing her palms against her cheeks. What was wrong with her? This feeling, this burning in her chest—she'd never experienced anything like it.

No, she thought fiercely. No one can have him. He's mine. Mine. I saw him first.

The possessiveness surprised her with its intensity. Rey wiped her eyes, straightened her dress, and marched back inside. She spotted Ben immediately—still talking to the beautiful woman, but now Leia had joined them, all three of them smiling like old friends.

Rey's jaw clenched. Not happening.

She walked straight toward them, her heels clicking against the marble floor. Ben looked up as she approached, his eyes widening with surprise.

"Rey? I thought you wanted to stay home?"

"I changed my mind." Rey slipped her arm through his, her grip firm and possessive. She smiled at Leia and the mystery woman—a smile that was all teeth and no warmth. "I hope you don't mind the interruption."

The message was clear: Ben was taken. He was hers.

And Rey wasn't giving him up without a fight.

It had been happening for weeks now. Every time they attended a family function or business dinner, Leia somehow managed to introduce Ben to another eligible young woman. Always from good families, always educated, always exactly the kind of woman a Solo should marry.

Rey wasn't jealous, she told herself. She just didn't like people touching what was hers. And Ben was hers.

When Leia invited Ben for dinner at the family estate, he naturally brought Rey with him—she was his girlfriend, after all. But it was clear Leia hadn't expected her to show up, because there was already someone else there waiting in the formal living room.

Phasma. That was her name, and she looked like she'd stepped out of a magazine spread for "Manhattan's Most Eligible Socialites." Tall, blonde, with the kind of effortless elegance that only came from generations of wealth and finishing schools. Her family owned half the art galleries in the city, according to Leia's enthusiastic introduction.

"Benjamin, you remember Phasma, don't you?" Leia said with a smile that was all teeth. "She just returned from studying art history in Florence."

"Of course," Ben said politely, though Rey could see the tension in his shoulders. "How was Italy?"

"Absolutely divine," Phasma replied, her voice like honey and champagne. "You simply must visit sometime. I know all the best places."

Rey watched from across the room as Leia maneuvered Ben and Phasma toward the window, encouraging them to chat about travel and culture and all the things people with money and time could afford to care about.

"Rey, dear," Leia called, her voice saccharine. "Why don't you come help me in the kitchen? I'm sure the young people would like some privacy to catch up."

It wasn't a request. Rey followed Leia out of the room, her jaw clenched so tight she thought her teeth might crack. For the next hour, she endured Leia's pointed comments about family traditions, the importance of suitable matches, and how difficult it must be for someone like Rey to understand the complexities of high society.

Rey nodded and smiled and made all the right noises, but inside she was seething. Every laugh she heard from the living room felt like nails on a chalkboard. Every time Leia mentioned how "accomplished" Phasma was, Rey wanted to throw something expensive against the wall.

She wasn't jealous. She was territorial. There was a difference.

When Phasma finally left, making a grand show of air-kissing Ben goodbye and promising to call him about some gallery opening, Rey had retreated to the porch. She needed air, needed space to breathe without feeling like she was suffocating on her own rage.

"Hey there," Ben's voice was soft as he found her sitting on the porch steps, staring out at the manicured gardens. "Did my mother torture your ears? Was she behaved with you?"

Rey just nodded. "Just the usual."

Ben sat down beside her, close enough that she could feel his warmth. "I'm tired," he said, pulling her closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Let's go home."

"Okay," Rey said quietly, but as they walked back to his car, she couldn't shake the image of Phasma's manicured hand resting on Ben's arm, or the way Leia had looked so pleased with herself.

Rey wasn't jealous… She’s not.

That night, Rey made sure Ben wouldn't forget her anytime soon.

Maybe it was because she didn't like the idea of someone else stealing what was hers. But she had to make sure Ben was truly hers, had to secure him completely. So when she initiated sex that night, she did it with the clear intention of ruining him for anyone else. He was going to have the best sex of his life with her and only her, so he wouldn't even think about going after others. He would only want her. Just her.

She made sure of it, listening to every moan and grunt, watching his face as she drove him to the edge and beyond. By the time they were finished, she was pretty confident she'd left him completely satisfied and thoroughly claimed.

Rey snuggled into his arms afterward, stroking his chin teasingly. "Did I do good?" she asked, though she already knew the answer from the way he was still trying to catch his breath.

"Babe, you're always good," Ben managed, pulling her closer against his chest and kissing the top of her head.

Rey settled against him, enjoying his warmth and the way his arms wrapped around her so securely. He was really good at snuggling, and this felt very nice. She didn't want to lose this—these moments belonged to her. She hated even thinking about another woman in his arms, in her place. The thought made her stomach churn with something dark and possessive.

She didn't have much to offer him compared to someone like Phasma, but maybe if she kept him satisfied, cleaned his place, took care of him, then he wouldn't let her go. Maybe that would be enough.

Rey pressed a soft kiss to his chest as she felt herself drifting toward sleep. It was only a few seconds later that she heard Ben whisper, so quietly she almost missed it: "I love you."

Rey froze, her heart stopping completely. She didn't know how to react, so she stayed perfectly still, waiting. Waiting until his breathing evened out and she was sure he was asleep.

She'd heard those words before—from random men telling her they loved the way she looked, or how she listened to them, or the drinks she made. Even her friends said "love you" casually when they hung up the phone. But with Ben, she didn't know why she felt her chest tighten so much when he said it. Why it felt different, heavier.

As Rey finally drifted off to sleep, she didn't realize that a single tear had slipped from her eye and landed on Ben's chest.

Chapter Text

The next morning, Rey made breakfast for him—scrambled eggs and toast made with care. She'd also done his laundry and tidied up his place while the coffee was brewing. It felt natural now, these small acts of taking care of him.

Ben sat down to eat with her, but not before kissing her face, lips, and neck several times, murmuring "good"  "morning" "beautiful" between each kiss. Rey found herself smiling despite herself—his affection was so genuine, so different from the transactional interactions she was used to.

"I'm sorry about how awkward the other night was with my mother," Ben said as he buttered his toast.

"It's alright," Rey said, stirring her coffee and taking small sips. She'd dealt with worse than Leia Organa's manipulations.

"Do you want to go somewhere? Get away for a bit?" Ben asked, already reaching for his phone.

"Where?" Rey asked, watching him scroll through whatever he was looking at.

Ben looked up at her with that soft smile she was growing addicted to. "It's a surprise."

Rey's eyes narrowed suspiciously. Ben saw her expression and chuckled, standing up from the table and extending his hand to her.

"Come on, trust me?"

Rey looked at his outstretched hand, then at his face. It was so easy to say yes to him—easier than it should be. She took his hand without hesitation.

They showered together after breakfast, and maybe they ended up staying in there a little longer than usual when they started making out under the hot spray. His lips were just fabulous—why wouldn't you want to make out with him?

Eventually they got dressed together. Rey had a few extra clothes now that she kept at his place; Ben had even emptied out a drawer for her. It was such a small gesture, but it made her feel more settled somehow, more... permanent.

Together they headed out, and Ben told James to take the day off—he'd be driving this time. Rey settled into the passenger seat of his car, curiosity and anticipation building as they pulled away from the city.

Ben took her to a country fair a little further south, away from the city's constant noise and chaos. Rey had never been outside the city before—had never realized how different the world could be just an hour's drive away.

Here, she could actually hear the wind rustling through the trees instead of car engines. The air felt cleaner when she breathed, no exhaust fumes or smog burning her lungs. No honking horns, no litter scattered across cracked pavement. Just grass and open sky and the cheerful sounds of families enjoying themselves.

She liked it. If she had a choice, she might actually consider living somewhere like this. She wondered where Ben would want to live, what kind of life he pictured for himself beyond the corporate expectations his family had drilled into him.

They shared fair food together—things Rey had never tried before, like blooming onions that somehow made the humble vegetable taste like heaven. She wasn't usually big on games, but she did like free things, so she watched with amusement as Ben attempted to win her prizes at the various booths.

It was rather cute, actually, watching him fail repeatedly at the ring toss and then stubbornly pay for another try. And another. Rey wasn't usually bothered by someone else spending their money—especially when it wasn't hers—but after his fifth failed attempt, she touched his shoulder.

"It's alright," she said. "I didn't want the toy anyway."

"You still get two more tries," the booth handler said encouragingly.

"Maybe I'll try it," Rey said, taking the small shooting gun from Ben's hands.

She aimed carefully, remembering the few times she'd been to arcades as a kid, back when she could still afford such luxuries. Apparently, she was better at this than Ben—which was funny, and also potentially problematic. She was well aware of how men could be about these things, especially when their masculinity felt threatened.

But when she handed him the stuffed crocodile she'd won, Ben just grinned and said, "Thanks, sweetheart," before kissing her cheek.

Rey felt her face warm and attributed it to the sun.

They spent the rest of the day wandering between booths and rides, sharing cotton candy and watching a local band perform on a makeshift stage.

Ben was driving his convertible along the winding country road, the engine purring beneath them as trees blurred past in shades of green and gold. Rey had let her hair down, the dark strands whipping around her face as she raised her hand to catch the wind.

She closed her eyes, feeling the air rush between her fingers, cool and wild and free. There was just this—the sun on her skin, the wind in her hair, and the steady presence of Ben beside her.

Ben glanced at her sideways, his lips tugging into a small smile at the sight of her so relaxed, so unguarded.

"You like the breeze?" he asked.

Rey hummed contentedly, not opening her eyes. "I do. It feels liberating, like I don't have to worry about anything else."

Ben was quiet for a moment, his hands steady on the steering wheel as they took another gentle curve. When he spoke again, his voice was soft, almost lost beneath the rush of wind.

"I'll make sure you never will."

Rey's eyes opened then, turning to look at him. The sincerity in his profile, the way his jaw was set with quiet determination, made something warm bloom in her chest.

Me too, she thought, though she didn't say it aloud. I'll make sure you never have to worry either.

The thought surprised her with its intensity, but as the countryside rolled past and Ben's hand found hers across the center console, Rey realized she meant it completely.

When they finally headed back to the busy city, Rey found herself almost disappointed to see the familiar skyline approaching.

Back at Ben's condo after their day at the country fair, they took turns showering. Rey went first, then settled onto his bed to watch his ridiculously large 85-inch TV. When she'd first seen it, she'd rolled her eyes—the thing was probably bigger than her entire apartment wall.

Her own TV was an ancient 30-inch cube that glitched constantly and needed a good smack to work properly. It definitely wasn't smart, and she didn't pay for cable or any subscriptions. She borrowed Rose's Netflix password and used her phone when she was at home, which wasn't often these days.

But Ben had everything—a full bundle package that came with his phone plan, he'd explained. When she stayed over, Rey liked to indulge in the soft mattress and expensive blankets while catching up on shows she'd never had access to before. Maybe she could finally watch that space show Finn kept talking about.

When Ben finished his shower, he found her still watching TV. He slipped on some boxers and settled beside her on the bed, immediately pressing soft kisses to her neck.

Rey smiled and sighed, tilting her head to give him better access. She loved the way he kissed her—never rough or demanding, but soft and tender. He liked to tease, touching and massaging her body before anything else, always making sure she was in the mood first instead of just taking what he wanted.

Though she had to admit, she didn't mind the times he was rougher either—when work stress made him more aggressive and they ended up having quick, intense fuck in the middle of his work day when he calls her to stop by at his lunch hour saying he was hungry. She didn’t know when he wanted to eat lunch that it was between her legs he planned to feast on. right there on his desk. Fuck it was so hot.. She liked both sides of him.

Rey tossed the remote aside and turned to kiss him back properly. His freshly shampooed hair, the mint on his breath from brushing his teeth, the way his nose pressed against her cheek when she pulled his face closer—it was all intoxicating. There was something deeply satisfying about being wanted by him.

She almost considered giving him oral pleasure until she remembered his comment about potentially not being clean. She almost didn't care, but Ben was already reaching for the condom box on his nightstand, he always bought the good kind, the ultra-thin ones sold in matte black packaging, like the manufacturer expected only astronauts or minor royalty to use them.

Rey helped him put it on, then pushed him back onto the bed, straddling his chest with a wicked look in her eye. She preferred this position—She liked being on top for a thousand reasons, some of which she'd never say out loud and some which were so obvious they barely needed naming: she could control the pace, she could grind just the way she liked, and most importantly, she could watch Ben's face, watching his face contort with pleasure was her favorite view.

She liked the way he looked at her, the way his heavy-lidded eyes telegraphed craving and awe in equal measure, the way his mouth would slacken and his neck would tense up as she moved over him. She watched him now, reveling in the privilege of seeing someone so beautiful undone, and maybe she was a little greedy for it, but fuck it—she'd earned this.

Ben's hands roamed her body, more reverent now than urgent, gliding up her sides and across her back. He murmured things she couldn't quite hear but could feel in the vibration of his chest beneath her, and she was struck by how much she actually liked fucking him—not just for the act itself, but for how genuine he was in the aftermath. He kissed her breastbone, her collarbone, the small hollow at the base of her throat, and Rey almost laughed at how corny it should have been and yet, how much it made her want him all the more.

She was nearly at her own climax when Ben shifted suddenly, rolling her over and pinning her arms above her head, his mouth pressed to her shoulder as he thrust into her. She felt his focus change, his breath going ragged as he moved harder, rougher, but always kept one hand tangled in her hair, as if to keep her tethered. Rey squeezed her eyes shut and gave herself over to it, all the tension in her body coiling tight until it snapped, and she didn't care that she cried out loud enough for the neighbors to hear. Let them.

He then moved her again, moving her to her hands and knees.

She was used to this position from her work, and usually preferred it with clients because she didn't have to look at their faces. But with Ben, she actually wanted to see his expression. He happened to have a very nice face to look at, and she found herself wondering if he thought the same about hers.

When he reached his climax behind her, breathing heavily against her ear and kissing the back of her neck, he asked if she'd finished too. Of course she had—he always made sure it was amazing for her. Silly man.

Later, as they lay side by side, Rey traced the faint scar on Ben's shoulder, a tiny jagged line that looked like it might have hurt once. He told her a story about falling off a bicycle as a kid, and she snorted and told him it was a pathetic story and he could do better. He grinned and gave her another, this one about a bar fight in college that got him arrested for the night—charges dropped, of course, because his mother called in a favor. Rey teased him about it, but she liked hearing these stories, liked the idea of Ben as a person with a whole life before her, a life with sharp edges and stupid mistakes.

Ben held her for a long time, running his thumb over the back of her neck in slow, lazy circles, and Rey lay there and let herself be held, surprised by how much she needed to be.

They cleaned up and went to sleep, and the next morning Rey made sure to tell him she wanted to do it face-to-face so she could look at him.

After they were done eating breakfast, they ended up back in bed, because why not. This time just like Rey requested, Ben obliged on being face-to-face, their noses brushing and their foreheads pressed together, and Ben seemed to understand that this mattered to her. He took his time, kissed her everywhere, and when he finally moved inside her it was slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing the way every part of her felt. Rey found herself tearing up, just a little, and Ben noticed, wiped the tear away with his thumb and smiled at her.. She gave him a half wet-sobbed laugh at how sentimental it all was. He didn't make fun of her and just kissed her. She wonders.. is this what making love feels?

Over the next few weeks she started keeping more of her things at his place—an extra toothbrush, a few changes of clothes, her favorite moisturizer. She learned what kind of music he liked in the mornings (classic rock, never pop), which side of the bed he preferred (right, always), and that he talked in his sleep sometimes, saying things that didn't make sense but were always strangely sweet.

She found herself wanting to cook for him, to impress him with simple meals she’d learned on her own, or to clean up when he left for work, just because she liked the idea of him coming home to a tidy space. Sometimes she caught herself humming, the tune of some song that had played while they were together, and it would make her smile for no reason at all.

It wasn't until a few weeks later, when Ben invited her to his office for lunch, that she noticed the stuffed crocodile sitting proudly on his desk among his law books and case files.

She couldn't help but smile at the sight of it.

Chapter Text

Their first real fight happened two weeks later, and it was ugly.

Rey had never fought with anyone she was sleeping with before—usually they never lasted long enough for real conflict. But Ben wasn't just anyone anymore, and the argument that started in his car after another work function had followed them all the way home.

"I don't like you talking to her," Rey said for the third time, pacing his living room in the midnight blue dress that now felt like armor.

"Rey, she's just the daughter of one of my mother's clients. I was being polite, making connections—"

"I don't care what she is. I didn't like it."

Ben ran his hands through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. "This isn't fair. I wasn't flirting with anyone."

"I don't care if you think it's not fair. I still don't like it."

"Well, I don't like that you used to sleep with people for money," Ben snapped, his patience finally breaking. "But did I ever complain? No!"

Rey stopped pacing, her eyes going wide. The room fell silent except for the sound of her sharp intake of breath.

"You said you didn't care about that," she said, her voice dangerously quiet.

"Well, sometimes I feel like you're only with me for my money, so excuse me if I have some feelings about your past!"

"Oh, what?" Rey's voice rose to a shout. "You think I'm here for your looks? You're lucky you have money because no one else would ever look your way to begin with!"

They glared at each other across the expensive living room, both breathing hard, both saying things designed to hurt.

"My mom was right," Ben said, his voice cold. "You're fucking nothing. GET OUT!"

Rey didn't even care anymore. They'd been screaming at each other for the past hour, and she was done. She grabbed the hem of her blue dress and ripped it, the expensive fabric tearing with a satisfying sound.

"I hated this dress anyway!" she yelled, kicking off the designer heels Ben had bought her. She broke one heel against the coffee table, then yanked off the diamond necklace and hurled it against the wall where it shattered into glittering pieces.

"I hate all of this! I don't need any of it! I never did! I managed just fine without you!"

She stormed toward the door barefoot, tears streaming down her face. She didn't care if he followed her—she didn't want him to follow her. The door slammed behind her with enough force to rattle the frame.

Ben stared at the wreckage of his living room. Torn fabric, broken jewelry, her shoes scattered across the marble floor. He pulled at his hair, stress and anger and something that felt like heartbreak all warring in his chest.

His mother's interference, the pressure at work, but most of all the crushing realization that Rey had never really wanted him—just his fortune. Just what he could give her.

He slammed his fist down on the marble countertop, feeling something crack in his knuckles. He didn't care. The physical pain was nothing compared to the hollow ache in his chest.

She was gone. And maybe that was for the best.

Rey arrived at her old apartment, almost forgetting she lived here. She'd spent so much time with Ben that she barely came here anymore—the place felt foreign, like visiting someone else's life. She sighed and walked to her lumpy bed, collapsing onto the familiar depression in the mattress.

Why was she even upset about ending things with Ben? The question echoed in her head as she stared at the water-stained ceiling.

She was tired. Tired of keeping up appearances, tired of pretending. It had been fun at first—all those expensive gifts and jewelry, the fancy parties, pretending to belong in their world. But trying to win Ben's parents' praise and affection while constantly failing whenever Leia brought up her "station" had worn her down completely.

She really had tried. Tried to be the girlfriend Ben deserved to have. But no matter how much effort she put in, it was never going to be enough. His parents would never accept her, and eventually... eventually Ben would realize that too. She couldn't compete with all those women Leia kept introducing to him—women like Phasma with their perfect breeding and trust funds and finishing school educations.

She wasn't like them. She was just a nobody. She'd never be like them, no matter how hard she tried to fit in.

Rey tried her best not to care. She shouldn't care. It had just been an experiment to see if she could snatch him, right? That's all it was supposed to be.

But tears were falling down the sides of her face as she lay there in the dark, and she told herself again and again that it wasn't real anyway. None of it had been real.

The expensive dresses, the way he'd held her after nightmares she'd never told him about, the crocodile he'd kept on his desk, the way he'd defended her at that awful dinner party—none of it mattered because she didn't belong in his world.

She was just Rey. Rey with no last name, no family, no trust fund. Rey who'd grown up in foster care and learned to survive by any means necessary.

And Ben Solo was... Ben Solo. Old money, old family, old expectations.

It wasn't real. It couldn't be real.

She just had to keep telling herself that until it stopped hurting.

Rey sat with Finn and Rose at their usual table in the small nightclub they'd been going to since they were twenty-one. The music was loud, the drinks were cheap, and it felt like stepping back in time to before everything got complicated.

"I can't drink tonight," Rose announced with a secretive smile. "Brendol and I are expecting."

Finn nearly choked on his beer, then broke into a huge grin. "Rose! That's amazing! Congratulations!"

Rey smiled and raised her glass. "Congratulations," she said, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Brendol really wants a boy," Rose continued, glowing with excitement. "I already picked out a name—Armitage. I think it sounds distinguished, don't you?"

"Very fancy," Finn agreed. "Speaking of fancy, my husband and I just bought a vacation home in the Bahamas. You two should come visit once the baby's old enough to travel."

The conversation continued around Rey, but it slowly faded into background noise. She nodded and smiled at appropriate moments, but her mind was elsewhere. Eventually, she pulled out her phone, telling herself she needed to change her wallpaper.

The current photo was a selfie of her and Ben, with the stuffed crocodile covering half his face. She'd taken it the day after the fair, both of them laughing in his kitchen.

Rey scrolled through her gallery looking for a replacement, but instead found herself stopping at each picture of them together. There was the bathroom mirror selfie from before one of his work parties, both of them dressed up and looking like they belonged together. The photos from that golf event she'd attended with him—she didn't even like golf, but she'd offered to be his caddy anyway. There was Ben mid-swing, looking serious and focused, and then the silly picture of them pretending to sword fight with the golf clubs.

Photos of various meals they'd shared—that expensive sushi place, the country fair food, casual dinners at his place. Her favorite was the one of Ben stuffing his mouth with a Wendy's burger, ketchup smeared on the side of his cheek. She'd laughed so hard when she took that picture.

Rey blinked, realizing the photos were getting blurry. Must be the drink making her eyes water.

"Rey?" Finn's voice cut through her thoughts. "You okay? You've been quiet tonight."

Rey quickly locked her phone and looked up. "Yeah, just tired. Work's been... busy."

Rose leaned forward. "Everything alright with that whale you were telling me about? Ben?"

Rey's throat tightened. "We're... taking a break."

A week later, Ben sat at his office desk trying to type up case notes, but his bandaged fist made every keystroke painful. He felt mentally drained, like he was operating on autopilot. Sleep had been elusive, and coffee wasn't helping anymore.

"Benjamin!" Leia's voice rang out as she swept into his office without knocking, practically radiating satisfaction. "I've secured us a wonderful new client—Senator Tarkin's son needs representation for his divorce proceedings. Very lucrative. I want you to oversee the case."

She paused, noticing his bandaged hand for the first time. "What happened to your hand?"

Ben shrugged without looking up. "Had an accident. No big deal."

Leia hummed suspiciously, her eyes narrowing. "And where is that escort of yours? Ren or whatever her name was?"

Ben's head snapped up, scowling. "You know her name, Mother. Don't act like you don't."

Leia scoffed, waving a dismissive hand. "Honestly, Ben, I've tolerated enough of this escort nonsense. When I said go find a nice girl, I meant someone actually worthwhile and decent. Someone with some morals."

"Morals?" Ben snorted, standing up from his chair. "Really? You want to talk to me about morals? Do you forget what half our clients do for a living?"

"Don't be dramatic. It's just business."

"I'm tired. I'm going home." Ben moved toward the door, but Leia stepped closer to his desk, blocking his path.

"Not until you speak with our new client. I put in a good word for you."

"I don't want to right now."

"It's not up to you, now is it?" Leia's voice turned cold. "It's my company, and you still have to do as I say."

Ben clenched his jaw as his mother walked out to speak with the client. He could feel his hands forming fists despite the pain, rage building in his chest until he thought he might explode and lose his mind completely.

Then, at the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the stuffed crocodile Rey had won for him at the fair.

Ben paused. Suddenly, it was like all his rage just... disappeared. Slowly, he walked over and picked up the crocodile plushie, staring at it for a long moment. The memory of Rey's triumphant grin when she'd handed it to him, the way she'd laughed when he'd kissed her cheek in thanks.

After what felt like an eternity, Ben walked out of his office, leaving everything behind except the crocodile. When he got to his car, he carefully placed it on the passenger seat and even buckled it in so it wouldn't fall.

Chapter Text

Rey fucking hated her job.

She'd always hated it, but being back at the Skywalker Club after tasting something better made every moment feel like torture. The same leering faces, the same wandering hands, the same promises of money for favors she no longer wanted to give.

"Come on, sweetheart," the drunk pharmaceutical executive slurred, reaching across the bar to grab her wrist. "One more whiskey, and maybe we can discuss that tip I mentioned."

Rey stared at his wrinkled face, his yellowed teeth, his wedding ring that he'd conveniently forgotten to mention he had a wife. For years, she'd smiled and played along. For years, she'd endured this for the money.

Not anymore.

The slap echoed through the club like a gunshot. Every conversation stopped, every head turned to stare at the bartender who'd just struck one of their most valuable clients.

"Rey!" The manager was already pushing through the crowd, his face red with fury. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

But Rey didn't answer. She was already untying her apron, already walking toward the door. Behind her, she could hear the executive shouting about pressing charges, about having her arrested, but she didn't care.

She was fired. Of course she was fired.

Twenty minutes later, Rey sat on the concrete steps outside her apartment building, staring at the cracked sidewalk. This had been her best job, her steadiest income. She should feel devastated, terrified about paying rent and buying food.

Instead, all she felt was relief.

Footsteps approached, then stopped. Rey looked up to find Ben standing there in sweatpants and a hoodie, looking nothing like the polished lawyer she'd grown accustomed to. His right hand was wrapped in a white cast.

"What happened to your hand?" she asked quietly.

Ben glanced down at the cast, then back at her. "Lost a fight against a marble countertop."

They looked at each other for a long moment, all the angry words from their fight hanging between them. Then Ben sat down beside her on the steps.

They didn't speak. What was there to say? That they'd both said terrible things? That they'd both didn't mean them? That they were both too proud to apologize first?

Rey stared out at the street, watching cars pass under the flickering streetlights. She wondered if she would ever be happy. Really happy, not just temporarily distracted by nice things. People said money didn't buy happiness, but how could you be happy when you were broke? When you were always one bad day away from losing everything?

The silence stretched between them, heavy but not uncomfortable. Finally, Rey let her head tilt sideways until it came to rest on Ben's shoulder. He was warm and solid, and he smelled like the expensive detergent she'd grown used to.

Ben's arm curled around her back, pulling her closer against his side. They still didn't speak, but somehow the quiet felt like forgiveness. Like understanding.

Like maybe they were both tired of fighting—with each other and with the world.

It was the first time Rey had ever brought Ben inside her apartment. She'd always been too embarrassed, too aware of the peeling wallpaper and water-stained ceiling, the broken tiles and amateur paint job that couldn't quite cover the holes in the walls.

But Ben didn't judge. He didn't even seem to see any of it. His eyes never left her face as she nervously unlocked the door, as she apologized for the mess that wasn't really a mess so much as just poverty made visible.

"It's not much," she said, wrapping her arms around herself.

"It's yours," Ben replied simply, and something in his voice made her look up at him. The way he was watching her—like she was the only thing in the room worth seeing—made her feel bashful in a way she hadn't experienced since she was a teenager.

"Are you hungry?" she asked, needing something to do with her hands. "I don't have a lot..."

She made him what she generously called a cheese sandwich—a hot dog bun with a slice of processed cheese melted inside. It was probably the saddest meal she'd ever served anyone, let alone someone who was used to five-star restaurants and aged wine.

Ben took a bite and gave her the most genuine laugh she'd heard from him. Not mocking, not pitying—just delighted.

"This is good," he said, finishing the entire thing. "I like it."

Rey couldn't help but laugh at this. When was the last time someone had been happy with something she'd made?

Later, they ended up in her bed—the mattress that squeaked with every thrusting movement, the frame that was held together with duct tape and stubbornness. When the neighbors started banging on the wall, complaining about the noise, Ben just grinned and moved harder, making the springs squeak even louder. Rey dissolved into giggles, covering her mouth to muffle the sound.

She'd never brought anyone here before. Never wanted to. But with Ben, it felt right somehow. Natural.

Afterward, she curled into his side, pressing soft kisses to his chest while he played with her hair. His fingers were gentle against her scalp, and she felt herself relaxing in a way she rarely allowed herself to.

"Rey," he said quietly.

"Mmm?"

"I'm sorry. About what I said."

She lifted her head to look at him. "Me too."

Ben's fingers stilled in her hair. "I really care about you, you know. I just... I didn't want my fortune to be the only reason you're with me."

Rey was quiet for a long moment, tracing patterns on his chest with her fingertip. She could lie, make it easier for both of them. But lying felt wrong now, in this small space that was hers, in this bed that had never held anyone but her until tonight.

"I did want you for your money," she said finally, not looking at him. "At first."

She felt Ben tense beneath her, but she pressed on.

"But then I found something better." She lifted her head to meet his eyes. "Your heart. You have a wonderful heart, Ben, and it's the best treasure I ever found."

His expression softened, and Rey felt her own vulnerability crack her chest wide open.

"Will you take me back?" she whispered. "I'll even sign a prenup if you want. I know your mother thinks—"

Ben's laugh cut her off, rough and a little bitter. "There's no reason for a prenup if I don't have anything anymore."

"What do you mean?"

"I quit the firm," he said simply. "I'm jobless, my mother is angry at me, told me she’d cut me off the trust fund."

Rey stared at him, processing this information.

"So," Ben said, his voice carefully neutral, "Do you still want to be with me? without all of that?"

Rey scoffed, though her smile was teasing. "Looks like I'll have to provide for you from now on."

She leaned down and kissed him, soft and slow, and he kissed her back just as softly.

It was only then that she realized—they hadn't used a condom. Huh. Maybe that's why it had felt so much better this time… Anyways.

"Ben," she said, breaking their kiss. "Are you really not clean?"

Ben only smirked at her, that infuriating almost-smile that told her nothing.

Rey rolled her eyes and huffed. "Let's both get tested just in case."

Rey settled back against his chest, feeling his arms tighten around her.

Just before she drifted off to sleep, she whispers something against his chest—three words she'd never expected to hear, never thought she would have ever uttered it in her life and meant it.

"I love you."

He responded without hesitation, kissing the top of her head “I love you too”

Rey's chest filled with something warm and bright and terrifying. She didn't know what to call it, this feeling that made her want to laugh and cry at the same time. But whatever it was, she wanted to keep it forever.

They didn't need to say more than that. Some things were better left unspoken, at least for now. Rey settled back against his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, and for the first time in a long time, she felt like she was exactly where she belonged.

Six years later, they were signing papers for a new house. Both their names on the mortgage, both their signatures on the dotted line. It wasn't as grand as Ben's family estate or even his old place, but it was theirs. Home.

Ben had done something Rey never expected—he'd walked away from his mothers threats to cut him off and started his own practice. Solo & Associates, though Rey was the only associate for a while. He handled the cases while she managed his schedule and kept all the paperwork organized. It wasn't corporate law for billionaires, but regular people who needed help navigating divorces and small business contracts and custody disputes.

The firm was small but growing. They'd hired two more lawyers and a paralegal, and Rey found herself oddly good at the administrative side of things. Who knew all those years of juggling at a bar would translate so well to being a secretary?  And the crocodile sits at the front of her desk welcoming new clients, they call it their mascot.

Their condo wasn't huge, but it was big enough. Rey still made Ben hot dog bun cheese sandwiches, and he still ate every bite with that same delighted grin. Sometimes she'd show off her bartending skills in their kitchen, mixing cocktails while he cooked dinner. They'd laugh about stupid things, cuddle on their secondhand sofa, and have sex whenever they wanted—which was pretty much all the time.

Ben wasn't stressed anymore. No more family pressure, no more stuffy corporate functions with people who looked down on anyone without a trust fund. His mother still called occasionally, but her disapproval seemed less important when Ben was actually happy with his life.

The work parties now were casual affairs—t-shirts and jeans, beer instead of champagne, conversations about real life instead of stock portfolios. And when Ben introduced her to potential clients or other lawyers, he always said the same thing:

"This is Rey, my wonderful wife."

Rey had gotten her prize, just like she'd planned. But as she watched Ben laugh at something their new paralegal said, as she felt the warm satisfaction of a day's work well done, she realized long ago she happened to be completely, desperately, head-over-heels in love with him.

She'd hit the jackpot, all right. Just not in the way she'd originally intended.

He's everything she wanted. Its just a bonus he’s a whale.