One Night to Ruin Him

Call-boy

Sarafina

The room was spinning. Or maybe it was just the room finally matching the chaos inside my head.

I leaned against the mini-bar of the hotel suite, clutching a bottle of expensive gin like it was a lifeline. Two weeks ago, I was a "perfect" wife. An hour ago, I was a woman whose husband had just told her he was moving his mistress into his heart while leaving me the scraps of an "open marriage."

Open marriage. The words sounded strange.

"If you want open, Asher, I’ll give you a goddamn abyss."

My phone sat on the velvet duvet, the confirmation screen glowing. Elite Discretion: Your 'A' is on his way. I’d spent two thousand pounds of Sebastian’s money on a stranger. I didn't even want the s*x, really. I wanted the betrayal. I wanted to feel like I wasn't the only one breaking the rules.

I took another swig, the gin burning a trail down my throat. I felt reckless. I felt cute. I felt like a woman who was about to burn her entire life down just to see if the flames were warmer than her husband’s touch.

A sharp, heavy knock thudded against the door.

I jumped, nearly dropping the bottle. My heart began a frantic rhythm. This was it. No turning back.

I smoothed down my silk slip dress, the one I’d bought for an anniversary Sebastian forgot. I kicked off my heels, walking barefoot to the door. I felt a strange, giddy lightness in my chest.

I opened the door, a witty, biting line ready on my tongue.

But the words died before they could leave my lips.

The man standing in the hallway was a mountain of dark, suffocating energy. He was towering, his shoulders blocking out the hallway lights. He wore a black leather jacket over a grey hoodie, and his jeans were worn, clinging to thighs that looked like they could crush stone.

His face was shadowed, but his eyes... They were glowing. Not a reflection of the light, but a deep, amber fire that seemed to pierce right through my skin.

He didn't look like he was here for a transaction. He looked like he was here for a war.

"You," he growled. The sound wasn't human. It was a vibration that started in the floor and settled deep in my bones.

"You're... late," I managed to say, my voice tilting with the gin. I reached out, my hand landing on his chest to steady myself.

He froze. I could feel the heat radiating off him. Beneath my palm, his heart was thundering, faster than any human heart should beat. He smelled like cedar, rain, and something like ozone before a storm.

"Do you have any idea whose phone you called?" he asked, his voice dropping an octave.

I giggled. "The agency? I paid for the best. Are you the best?"

His hand shot out, his fingers wrapping around my wrist. His grip wasn't painful, but it was absolute. He stepped into the room, forcing me back, and kicked the door shut.

"The agency is a front for a data leak," he hissed, pinning my wrist against the wall. He was so close now I could see the tattoos snaking up his neck, disappearing under his jaw.

"My private line was routed to that filth by a disgruntled pack member. I came here to tear the throat out of whoever was on the other end."

I blinked, trying to focus. Pack member? "You’re very intense for an escort," I whispered, my gaze dropping to his lips. They were full, pulled into a hard line of fury. "But you’re much prettier than Asher. He’s all suits and lies. You’re... tattoos and growls."

I reached up with my free hand, my fingers brushing the stubble on his jaw. "Are you going to tell me off, Mr. Call Boy? Or are you going to show me what I paid for?"

Something snapped in his eyes. The amber intensified until it was all I could see. A low, guttural sound ripped from his chest, a literal snarl that made the hair on my arms stand up.

"You're tipsy," he muttered, his nose brushing against mine. His breath was hot, smelling of mint and something wild. "You don't know what you're asking for. My wolf... he doesn't do 'transactions.'"

"Then do something else," I challenged, my thumb tracing the line of his bottom lip. "Make me forget my name. Make me forget I’m a wife."

He let out a sharp, ragged breath. "God help me."

He didn't kiss me. He claimed me.

His mouth crashed onto mine with a violence that should have terrified me, but all I felt was a sudden, explosive relief. It was like a dam breaking. He tasted like a storm, all heat and power. His hands were everywhere-in my hair, on my waist, pulling me so tight against him that I could feel every hard muscle of his body.

He lifted me easily, my legs wrapping around his waist as he carried me toward the bed. I felt the leather of his jacket against my inner thighs, the contrast of the cold material and his burning skin making me gasp.

"Tell me to stop, Sarafina," he groaned against my neck, his teeth grazing my pulse point. "Tell me now, or I’m going to ruin you for any other man."

I arched my back, my fingers digging into his shoulders, feeling the thick ink of his tattoos under my skin.

"Don't stop," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Please. Just... don't stop."

The last thing I saw before the world dissolved into heat and shadows was his eyes. They weren't amber anymore. They were pure, molten gold.

I woke up to a room bathed in grey London light.

My head was pounding, a rhythmic throb that reminded me of every drop of gin I’d consumed. I moved to sit up, but a heavy, warm weight was draped across my stomach.

I looked down.

A massive, tattooed arm was pinned over me.

Everything came rushing back. The restaurant. Aaher’s cruelty. The hotel. The man with the glowing eyes.

I turned my head slowly. He was still asleep, his face buried in the pillow. Without the rage, he looked younger, but no less dangerous. His back was a map of scars and intricate wolf designs.

I felt a pang of pure, unadulterated panic. I’d done it. I’d actually done it.

I carefully lifted his arm, sliding out of the bed. My body felt different-heavy, sensitized, and marked. I looked in the mirror and saw the faint bruises on my hips where his hands had held me.

I scrambled for my clothes. I had to get out of here. This man was something else entirely.

I grabbed my purse, but as I reached for the door, my phone chimed.

A text from Asher.

The Vane merger meeting is in two hours. You better be at the office, Sarafina. Don't make me come find you.

I looked back at the bed. The man was stirring. His hand searched the empty space where I’d been, his brow furrowing even in sleep.

I bolted.

I didn't stop until I was in a taxi, my heart hammering against my ribs. I’d go to the office. I’d play the role one last time. I’d find a way to fix this.

Two hours later, I stood in the lobby of Vane Enterprises, my heels clicking on the marble. I looked like the perfect Luna. My dress was pressed, my makeup was flawless, and my secret was buried deep.

"Ah, Sarafina. You're actually on time," Asher said, walking toward me. He looked smug, his eyes already on the elevator. "The Lycan King is already in the boardroom. If we land his backing, we control the entire European market. Don't speak unless I tell you to."

"The Lycan King?" I asked, a cold chill washing over me.

"Sebastian. He’s the most powerful Alpha in the world. He doesn't deal with humans usually, but he’s here for a personal matter today."

The elevator doors opened. We walked into the boardroom, where a dozen men in suits were standing in silence.

At the head of the table, a man was staring out the window, his back to us.

"Mr. King," Asher said said, his voice dripping with false humility. "Thank you for seeing us. May I introduce my wife, Sarafina?"

The man turned around.

My heart didn't just stop; it died.

It was him.

The man from the hotel. The man who had held me until dawn.