The Innocent Girl Who Stole His Heart

Chapter 7

A mischievous, vengeful idea sparked in her mind, a glimmer of light in her humiliated state. She pulled open the third drawer, and then paused, standing akimbo, her hands planted firmly on her waist, staring at the neatly stacked prophylactic arsenal. "I can't allow this guy to go around screwing different women," she mused, a self-appointed vigilante for all unsuspecting females. He might be r****g them. Who knows? The thought, though dramatic and likely unfounded, sealed her resolve. She reached in, gathering all the condoms, sweeping them into the small polythene bag she had spotted earlier in the first drawer. She tied a tight knot in the bag. "I will throw it away when I get home," she decided, a triumphant, almost giddy smirk spreading across her face.

"I'm sure when he wakes up", he'll be calling a w***e, she thought, her internal monologue shifting into a dramatic role-play, mimicking Adrian's voice with mocking disdain.

"Hello, w***e Number 100, is that you?"

"Yes, baby boo!" Neeve mimicked, adopting a simpering, overly sweet voice for the imaginary prostitute.

"Can you be here in a few minutes? I'm damn horny! My prey just eloped this morning. I couldn't find her anywhere, and I've used drugs! My p***s is erect! I need you right now!"

"Okay, baby, I'm here already!" Neeve's imaginary w***e chirped, her voice dripping with artificial eagerness.

Conversation ended.

"Oh, baby!" Neeve mimicked, imagining Adrian hugging his imaginary w***e Number 100 with fake passion. "Let's get to work!"

He undresses her quickly and plays with her sensitive part. "Baby, let me get the condom," Adrian mimicked, reaching for the drawer, his face contorted in mock confusion, then finding it empty. "OMG! Who stole my pack of condoms?"

Neeve broke character, a triumphant, silent laugh bubbling up inside her. "It's me!" she responded, her voice echoing in the silent room. "I can't wait to see the teary look on his face!" She laughed again, a giddy, victorious sound, imagining his impending fury.

"How funny," she ended mimicking, shaking her head at her own antics. She then finally reached for the third drawer again, her smile bright with anticipation of cash. But just as her fingers touched the edge of the drawer, she felt a large, warm hand fall on her bending back.

"Holy f*****g s**t!" Her heart leaped into her throat, a sickening lurch of fear. It was as if I should slap off his hand, she thought, her body rigid with surprise. But then she remembered he was still asleep, or seemed to be. No, he's going to wake from his sleep! She instinctively backed off, a wave of cold panic washing over her.

She gently removed his hand, careful not to disturb him, then placed it back on his bare chest. The duvet was lying haphazardly around his waist, exposing his sexy, muscular chest. Her gaze lingered for a moment, an unexpected desire to touch and lie on it, to feel the warmth, to feel safe, blooming in her chest. The sight of his powerful frame, vulnerable in sleep, stirred a strange mix of emotions. This man is not for you, her instinct spoke, a sharp, cold voice of reason cutting through the warmth.

"Oh, yeah, not for me!" she whispered, pulling her gaze away, forcing herself to remember her true mission, her desperate need for a baby. "All I want is a baby from you!" She rubbed her belly, a defiant smile returning to her lips. "In the next nine months, I will be a mother."

She finally opened the third drawer again, this time undisturbed. Her smile broadened instantly on sighting bundles of money, thick stacks of crisp hundred-dollar bills. Her eyes widened. She pulled out a thick bail, lifting it to her nose, inhaling the scent. She kissed it. Money smells nice, she thought, a small, sinful pleasure coursing through her.

Clutching the polythene bag full of condoms and the stack of cash, she dashed out of the room, her sneakers barely making a sound on the plush carpet. Her heart was pounding, but this time, it was with a thrill of escape and a hint of victory. As she reached the bottom of the grand staircase, she rounded the corner, her mind already on making her swift exit.

Unluckily, just as she cleared the last step, she bumped directly into that damn driver from last night, Stephen, who was already up and about, tidying up the expansive foyer.

He looked at her suspiciously, his eyes scanning her from head to toe, taking in the oversized men's clothes, the wild hair, and the frantic look in her eyes. He stopped for a moment, his brow furrowed, before finally voicing a polite "Good morning." I returned with a mirthless smile, forcing out a cheerful, "Good morning!" My heart was doing a frantic jig in my chest.

"Why are you leaving so early, Miss?" Stephen asked, his gaze lingering on her unfamiliar outfit.

"Oh, hmm, I got an emergency," I improvised, my mind already spinning a "cooked lie" for his breakfast. So I need to hurry home. Something urgent came up, you see."

Stephen scanned her from head to toe again, his brow furrowed in open confusion, his eyes lingering on the ill-fitting clothes for a moment before he finally voiced his next question. "Did Sir know you're dressed in his clothes?"

I knew this coconut head would ask! So I have already prepared a cooked meal to give him as breakfast! I flipped my hair strands dramatically, preparing for my performance, adopting a pitiful, fragile demeanor.

"Your boss, or whatever he is," I began, lowering my voice conspiratorially, leaning closer to Stephen as if sharing a terrible secret, "tore my clothes in a hurry last night in his bedroom." I sniffed, a practiced, pathetic sound, my eyes welling up with feigned tears.

"Why?" Stephen asked, leaning in, clearly intrigued and concerned.

"Letter 'Y' has a long tail," I wanted to snub him with my usual retort, but I resisted. This was important. This lie had to be convincing. "Well, isn't the reason clear?" I signaled to him to come even closer, then whispered into his ear, embellishing my story with a flair for the dramatic, watching his reactions carefully. "Last night, your boss was very horny due to the weather", I suppose. He went into the guest room, demanding entry, and then he… he bundled me to his room. He didn't allow me to free myself! He tore my clothes hurriedly and... I sniffed again, working up the crocodile tears, letting them fall dramatically. "And... he... he…" I struggled, feigning immense emotional distress, my voice trembling.

"Oh!" Stephen interrupted, his eyes widening in horror, his face paling. "I get it." He… Stephen stretched his neck forward, leaning in, anticipating the worst, his concern evident.

"Yes... yes... he forced himself on me!" I completed the statement, a tear finally escaping and tracing a path down my cheek, adding to the theatrical effect.

"So you mean Boss did that to you?" Stephen asked, his voice filled with genuine shock and righteous indignation.

"Yes!" I confirmed, nodding vigorously, cementing the lie.

"Oh, then let's go back inside!" Stephen exclaimed, his face set with determination, his hand already reaching for the grand front door. I will seek justice for you! We'll call the police!"

This guy is a dickhead! Won't he spare me? I pouted inwardly, my eyes wide with exasperation. This was going too far! I had to end this conversation quickly before Adrian woke up and caught me in his outfit, with this wild story spinning.

I giggled, a forced, slightly unhinged sound that probably contradicted my 'distraught victim' act. "Hmm, let's forgive him," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "After all, I enjoyed it!" I quickly added, the absurdity of the statement almost making me burst into real laughter. "I need to end this conversation quickly before that jerk wakes up and catches me in his outfit."

"So you're okay?" Stephen asked, still looking utterly confused, trying to reconcile my tears with my sudden declaration of enjoyment.

"I am!" I declared, throwing my leg and hand up in the air, a gesture of exaggerated triumph and freedom, a visual exclamation point to my hasty exit.

"How about grabbing some coffee before you go?" Stephen offered, still seemingly concerned, perhaps hoping to delay me because of his boss's inevitable wrath.

"Never mind! "Thanks for your hospitality! "I should leave!" I said quickly, before he could press me further, before I could slip up. I bounced out of the gate, ignoring his bewildered expression, and took to my heels, running as fast as my borrowed sneakers could carry me, the polythene bag of condoms swinging wildly in my hand, a secret trophy. My heart was pounding, but this time, it was with a thrill of escape and a hint of victory. The rain had subsided to a drizzle, washing the city clean, just as I hoped to wash away the memory of Adrian Sterling.