I Can't Help Myself

Chapter 5 You're the One Who Should Leave

Clara's face burned scarlet. "I... I don't recall anything," she stammered.

Eyes fixed on the ground, she hurried into the stairwell.

James doggedly pursued the matter: "Really? We went at it all night long. I'd have thought you'd remember every detail."

Her face turned an even deeper red as she glared at him. "I don't know what came over me yesterday. Just keep quiet about it when we meet my boyfriend."

The elevator arrived with a soft chime, and they stepped in together.

As the doors slid shut, James leaned against the railing, his voice dripping with nonchalance: "Just stating facts."

"You—!" Clara bristled with indignation before suddenly leaning closer, her voice low and threatening: "If you dare breathe a word, I'll make sure you lose your job."

James looked down at her, amusement flickering in his eyes. "Oh? And how exactly would you... do that?" He lingered on the last word, thick with implication.

The innuendo made her flush violently, her eyelashes trembling faintly—exactly as they had the previous night when he'd pinned her beneath him, their bodies tangled in the sheets.

James momentarily lost himself in thought.

A sharp ding snapped them back to reality.

Clearing his throat, James straightened. "Relax. I know what to say."

Only then did Clara relax slightly, following him out of the elevator.

At the apartment door, she went through the motions mechanically—key in the lock, turn the knob, push open the door.

Then her body went rigid.

A pair of glaring red high heels—definitely not hers—sat by the entrance.

Simultaneously, breathless moans escaped from the bedroom.

"Isabella, you feel so tight..."

"It's you who's too big... I can't handle much more..."

"Should we stop then?"

"Ah, you tease... You know that's not what I meant..."

The obscene sounds and frantic breathing stabbed through Clara's consciousness.

James tapped her arm, whispering, "That your boyfriend in there? Still want me to explain what happened last night?"

Clara's throat constricted as she choked out, "Wait here. Don't move until I say so."

With an indifferent shrug, James leaned against the wall while Clara stiffly approached the bedroom door.

The door stood ajar, revealing two sweat-slicked bodies entangled on scarlet wedding sheets, moving in desperate rhythm. Lance was moments from climax, his body jerking uncontrollably.

Beneath him, Isabella arched beneath him, face flushed, purring, "Lance... aren't you afraid she'll walk in on us?"

"Why worry? The plan worked perfectly."

Isabella giggled wickedly. "Honestly, when that drunk guy wound up in the room last night instead of the gigolo I hired, I worried Clara might get away clean. Good thing you drugged her wine..."

The truth exploded in Clara's mind—this whole thing was their setup! While she'd been desperate to apologize and prove her innocence, they'd been laughing at her naivety.

With a strangled cry, Clara burst through the door. Isabella shrieked and clung to Lance.

Lance didn't even flinch. Recognizing Clara, he casually withdrew from Isabella's body, wiping himself on the sheets with crude indifference.

Thick streaks of semen trickled down Isabella's thighs, soaking into the pristine white bedsheets.

Clara's stomach lurched. She launched herself at Isabella blindly, only for Lance to seize her wrist and hurl her backward with brutal force.

The crunching impact against the wall knocked the breath from her lungs—five years together since college, five years of building a future. Had it all been an elaborate con?

"Cut the dramatics," Lance sneered, carelessly tying his robe before kicking her packed suitcase hard enough to send it skidding across the floorboards. "No harm done then—you got laid all night, didn't you?"

Clara stood frozen, staring at the engagement ring still clinging to her finger. "You swore this was a man's one lifetime custom design..." Her voice broke.

"Fake. All of it." He ripped the ring off, letting it clatter into the trash amid their used tissues. "Don't blame me for being stupid enough to believe your fairy tales."

The diamond—still warm from her skin—now nestled in their filth, tarnishing every memory between them.

"Get. Out." She ground out each word through clenched teeth.

Lance's laugh was pure venom. "Actually princess, the lease is in my name."