Bound by One Forbidden Night: The Billionaire's Obsession

Back to Reality

Rosette's POV

The cab ride home felt like traveling between two different worlds.

I clutched my purse tightly in my lap, still wearing the wrinkled black dress from last night, and stared out the window as the glittering skyscrapers gave way to my rundown neighborhood. The morning sun was already climbing higher, mocking me with its brightness.

By the time I pushed open the door to my tiny studio apartment, I felt exhausted, sore, and strangely empty.

I kicked off my heels and headed straight for the shower. The water was nowhere near as luxurious as the one in his penthous, but I stood under the weak spray for almost twenty minutes, scrubbing every trace of him from my skin. It didn’t work. I could still feel his hands on my thighs, his mouth between my legs, the deep, commanding way he’d taken me against the glass while the city watched.

“Get it together, Rosette,” I whispered to myself as I towel-dried my hair. “It was one night. One stupid, incredible, reckless night. It’s over.”

I pulled on my favorite oversized sweater and leggings, made myself a strong cup of coffee, and sat at my small kitchen table with my laptop. Bills were piling up. My mother’s latest hospital invoice stared at me accusingly from the counter. I had no job, no savings, and a broken heart that had been stomped on long before last night.

Time to be responsible again.

I spent the next few hours updating my resume and sending out applications. Graphic designer positions, junior creative roles, even freelance gigs. Every time I closed my eyes, though, I saw stormy gray eyes and tattoos on broad shoulders.

My phone rang just after noon.

I didn’t recognize the number, but I answered anyway.

“Hello?”

“Miss Rosette Sinclair?” a professional female voice asked. “This is HR from Voss Enterprises. We received your application this morning and were impressed with your portfolio. We’d like to offer you an immediate interview for the Lead Designer position on our luxury campaign team. Are you available tomorrow morning?”

I nearly dropped my phone.

Voss Enterprises? *The* Voss Enterprises? One of the biggest, most prestigious conglomerates in the country. Their design team worked on global campaigns worth millions. The salary listed on their posting was almost double what I’d been making before.

“Yes,” I said quickly, heart racing. “I’m available. Thank you so much.”

“Excellent. We’ll see you at 9 AM tomorrow. Dress code is business professional.”

I hung up and stared at my phone in disbelief. This could change everything. The money, the experience, the opportunity to finally build something real.

For the first time since waking up in that penthouse, a real spark of hope flickered in my chest.

Maybe last night was exactly what I needed — a wild goodbye to my old life. A final act of rebellion before getting serious again.

I spent the rest of the day preparing: ironing my best black pantsuit, reviewing design trends, and practicing answers to common interview questions. Every now and then, memories of his deep voice whispering filthy praises against my ear would sneak in, making my cheeks flush.

I pushed them down.

That man was a fantasy. Voss Enterprises was my future.

---

The next morning, I stepped into the grand lobby of Voss Tower and felt completely out of my depth.

Marble floors stretched endlessly beneath my feet. A massive crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling. Employees in designer suits moved with purpose, their voices echoing softly. Everything screamed wealth, power, and success.

I smoothed down my pantsuit and took a deep breath.

This was it. My fresh start.

A friendly HR representative greeted me with a bright smile. “Miss Sinclair? Welcome to Voss Enterprises. I’ll take you up to the executive floor for your final interview.”

As the elevator climbed, my nerves settled into quiet determination.

Whatever happened next, I was ready.