The Don’s Little Bride

Untitled Episode Two: The Morning After

Ava's Pov.

I woke up with a pounding headache, the kind that felt like someone was banging a drum inside my skull. I groaned and squeezed my eyes shut, trying to push away the remnants of the foggy night.

Where was I?

The room around me was unfamiliar, dark and cold, with only the faintest light creeping through the window. I blinked a few times, trying to make sense of my surroundings. My body was sore, and I could feel the weight of the blanket covering me. But I wasn’t in my bed.

A feeling of dread sank into my stomach. What happened last night?

I sat up slowly, trying not to disturb the thick cloud of confusion hanging over me. The events of the night before were blurry, like a dream I couldn’t quite recall. The bar, the man’s voice, the way he had pulled me out of there...

My hand shot to my head, feeling the soft strands of my hair, the dull ache in my neck. I noticed I was still wearing the same clothes from last night, my red dress slightly askew.

A memory flickered, then vanished. The man’s face—the darkness in his eyes. His presence had felt commanding, almost intoxicating.

Shaking my head, I swung my legs over the side of the bed and tried to steady myself. I looked around again, this time spotting a glass of water on the bedside table. I grabbed it, drinking it in gulps, desperate to clear the fog from my brain.

But it wasn’t enough.

I was still foggy, still trying to piece things together. A knock on the door made me jump, my heart leaping into my throat.

“Who’s there?” I called out, my voice hoarse.

The door creaked open slowly, and I turned my head to see a tall figure standing in the doorway.

It was him.

The man from the bar.

His eyes were dark and unreadable, but there was a certain... predatory calm about him. He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with an intensity that made my skin prickle.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice deep and velvety.

I swallowed hard, suddenly feeling very small and vulnerable under his gaze. “Where am I?” I asked, my voice coming out shakier than I intended.

His smirk was almost imperceptible. “My place.”

I nodded slowly, though my brain was still fogged with questions. How did I get here? Why couldn’t I remember more?

I opened my mouth to ask, but then I noticed the look in his eyes, the way he was studying me, as if waiting for something. His presence was powerful, almost suffocating, and for some reason, I didn’t feel like asking him any more questions. I just wanted to get out of here.

“I need to leave,” I said, standing up quickly, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me.

He didn’t move, just stood there watching me, his eyes narrowing. “Are you sure you want to leave so soon?” His voice was a soft challenge, as if daring me to stay.

I felt a strange pull to him, despite every instinct telling me to get away. The memory of last night, our brief exchange, seemed to have a hold on me, and I couldn’t understand why.

“I’m not... I don’t even know what happened,” I said, my breath quickening.

He stepped closer, closing the distance between us. I tensed, my pulse racing as he reached out, his hand brushing against my arm.

“You were having a good time last night, Ava,” he said, his voice dropping lower. “You wanted to forget. I gave you that.”

I shivered, his words like a whisper in my ear. “I don’t remember much.”

He tilted his head slightly, almost as if he was amused by my confusion. “That’s normal. You drank a lot.” His gaze flicked to the empty bottles of liquor scattered around the room.

I clenched my fists at my sides. This wasn’t me. I didn’t do things like this. I didn’t lose control, especially not like this.

“I need to go,” I repeated, more forcefully this time.

But he didn’t move. His gaze was unyielding, and his presence was suffocating. “Are you sure you want to leave? Or are you just afraid of what you’ll feel once you do?”

My breath caught in my throat. The air in the room was thick, charged with something I couldn’t quite name. I took a step back, but he didn’t follow. His words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

“Last night, you wanted to forget,” he said again, his eyes never leaving mine. “And for a moment, you did. But now, you’re remembering something else, aren’t you?”

I shook my head, trying to clear the thoughts that kept swirling in my mind. His words were messing with me, and I hated how much they made sense. Why was this so difficult to walk away from? Why couldn’t I just go back to my life, to the way things were before?

“I just... I need to go back home,” I whispered, turning away from him.

He let out a quiet sigh, almost as if he was disappointed. “Fine. But just remember, Ava, that you asked for this. You wanted to forget your pain. And I gave you that. Don’t forget what it felt like.”

His voice lingered in my ears as I grabbed my purse and headed for the door. I didn’t turn back.

When I stepped out of the apartment building into the cold morning air, the weight of everything hit me all at once.

Fynn’s death. My father’s demands. This strange encounter with a man whose name I didn’t even know.

It all felt too much. The world felt like it was spinning, and I couldn’t find my footing.

I pulled my coat tighter around me as I walked down the street, my mind racing with thoughts I couldn’t keep up with.

What was I doing?

I had no idea who this man was or why I had let myself get caught up in something so reckless.

My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I pulled it out to see a message from Amelia.

“Ava, are you okay? I heard you left early last night. Call me when you get a chance.”

I stared at the message fo

r a moment, but I couldn’t bring myself to respond. I didn’t want to talk about it. Not yet.