His Bed Or My life
1332 Words
I didn’t even get a “hello” when I stepped inside his place.
Aiden had the lights low, the AC too cold, and some rap song vibrating through the speakers like he was trying to summon a headache. He was already on the couch, shirtless, controller in hand. A beer bottle rested against his knee, half empty.
“'Bout time,” he muttered without looking up.
“I said I’d come after work,” I replied, closing the door quietly. I didn’t know why I was always so careful. Like noise would crack something between us that had already been broken for months.
He paused the game and stood, stretching like he’d just done something worth getting sore over. “Come here.”
His tone wasn’t sweet. It was… possessive. Lazy. Like I belonged to him the moment I walked in.
I went anyway, letting his hands settle low on my hips as he kissed my neck. I didn’t melt the way I used to. I didn’t even feel warm. Just tired.
He backed me against the wall without asking, pressing his mouth against my skin like a brand. “You smell like strawberries. Always smell good when you’re tired.”
I tried to breathe. “I had a long day. We’re prepping for the gala, and—”
“Yeah, yeah. Your little PR thing.”
I pulled back slightly. “It’s not little. This is a big deal for me.”
He groaned and rolled his eyes. “Babe, you overthink everything. You’re beautiful. You don’t need to kill yourself doing some intern job for people who don’t care.”
“I care,” I said. “This isn’t just something for my resume, Aiden. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt—”
“You’re hot,” he cut in. “You don’t need to prove s**t to anyone.”
I blinked. There it was again. That thing where I talked and he just… didn’t hear me.
Before I could respond, he kissed me again, this time harder. His hands went for my shirt like he’d earned it just by showing up. I let him. Because that’s what I always did — let him take what he wanted, even when my heart wasn’t in it anymore.
---
Later That Night
He was snoring before I finished putting my shirt back on.
I sat at the edge of the bed, fingers gripping the side like it could hold me together. My phone buzzed next to me. One new text. Lara.
> “Meet me early at the ballroom tmr. VIP layout just changed. 11am. Don’t be late.”
I replied with a simple okay and glanced back at Aiden. His face was peaceful in sleep. You’d never guess he could be so cold while awake.
I slipped out of his place and into the night, still feeling his hands on me in places that didn’t feel like love.
---
The Next Morning – Midtown Crown Hotel
The ballroom was still half-under construction — chandeliers in the process of being hung, gold-trimmed chairs stacked along the walls, and tables half-dressed in white cloths. Lara was already there, standing in kitten heels and a red jumpsuit that screamed “look at me.”
She looked me up and down as I approached. “That’s what you wore?”
“Hi to you too.”
She clicked her tongue. “I’m just saying, if you’re gonna intern for the biggest firm in the city, maybe show up looking like you care.”
I tugged my hoodie sleeves down. “It’s a prep day. I’m not trying to impress a CEO.”
She smirked. “That’s the point, babe. You never know who’s watching.”
I rolled my eyes. Lara always dressed like every hallway was a runway. We’d been friends since we were fifteen, but lately, she’d started treating everything like a competition — clothes, boys, attention.
Still… she had my back. I thought.
She handed me a clipboard. “We’re supposed to do a final check of the VIP suites before the layout meeting. You get the east wing. I’ll do west.”
“Alone?”
“We don’t have all day, Amira. Pretend you’re grown.”
---
East Wing – VIP Floor
The east hallway was silent, carpeted in deep maroon, with soft light bleeding through tall windows. I had a list in hand, checking suite numbers, making notes. Boring stuff.
I paused by a door marked 3601. The clipboard said “Confirmed: Devereux Suite.” As in Mikhail Devereux — the elusive billionaire nobody ever really saw in public.
Just a name on paper, but even it felt heavy.
I stepped forward, debating whether to knock, when I heard it.
A moan.
Female. Breathless. Loud.
My whole body froze.
Laughter followed. Another woman. Then another voice — male, deep, calm, and terrifyingly unbothered.
Curious despite myself, I leaned slightly toward the door. It wasn’t closed all the way. Just… cracked.
I know I shouldn’t have looked.
But I did.
Two women — both in lace lingerie — wrapped around a man lounging like a king on the hotel bed. One straddling his lap, kissing his chest. The other curled against his shoulder, tracing circles on his skin.
And him?
Still. Sharp. Silent. Watching. Like he wasn’t even there for them — like they were props and he was somewhere far away.
Until his eyes found me.
Mikhail.
He didn’t flinch. Just looked. Looked so hard my chest forgot how to breathe.
And I stood there like a deer in headlights, frozen in place like an i***t.
Then… he smiled. A slow, quiet smile like a secret.
“You’re early,” he said — voice low, rich, like heat over ice.
“I—I was just checking the—”
“You always walk into other people’s rooms?”
“I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know it was—” I took a step back, cheeks on fire.
He moved then. Just a little. Leaning forward, brushing the girl off his chest like she was an afterthought. She protested. He didn’t care.
He stood, bare chest sculpted, muscles smooth and quiet. No shame. No panic.
“You should knock next time,” he said, pulling on a robe. “Unless you like watching.”
I blinked fast. “No! I mean—sorry, that came out wrong, I just—I was assigned this hall, and—”
He walked toward me slowly, stopping in the doorway.
My hands gripped the clipboard like a shield.
“I’ve seen you before,” he murmured. “Stone & Vale intern. Amira… something.”
I blinked. “Leona.”
His eyes darkened slightly. “Hm.”
I couldn’t read that “hm.”
I hated that I wanted to.
He tilted his head, studying me like I was made of glass. Then he smirked — not playful. Dangerous.
“You should go before I let you stay,” he said, voice dropping. “Might end up in my bed next time.”
My mouth parted. No words came.
Then he turned away, disappeared back into the room. The door shut behind him with a soft click.
And I just stood there — heart racing, skin burning, clipboard shaking in my hands like I’d seen something holy and unholy all at once.
---
Later – Meeting Room
Lara was already seated when I got back, filing her nails and sipping iced coffee like she owned the floor.
“You look like you saw a ghost,” she said without glancing up.
“Not a ghost. A man.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Spill.”
I didn’t. I couldn’t. Something about Mikhail felt… too real. Too dangerous to speak aloud.
So I just sat down beside her, heart still beating wrong, and whispered,
“I think I made a mistake today.”
And deep down… I knew I’d make it again.
- Writer
