One
1334 Words
The first thing Analia Fernsby noticed was the feel of silk—cool, strange, and sticking to her skin.
She slowly opened her eyes and saw a vast ceiling she didn’t recognize. As she looked around, her worry grew. This wasn’t her penthouse. The room smelled unfamiliar, like pine and strong cologne. Her head ached, and her vision was a little blurry, but she could still see enough to tell she was in a hotel suite, simple, stylish, and clearly designed for a man.
Then she felt it.
A presence beside her.
Analia jerked upright with a gasp, silk sheets falling to her waist. A man lay on the bed, shirtless, the edge of the blanket resting just below his waist. He was watching her already, as if he'd known the moment she'd awaken.
"Good morning," he said, voice calm, a hint of amusement laced beneath it.
Her eyes blazed. "Who the hell are you?"
"Justin Sallow," he replied smoothly. "You were in my room last night."
Analia’s breath caught in her throat. She looked down—she still had her dress on, mostly. It hung unevenly on her body, with one strap falling off her shoulder. Her heels were missing. Her makeup was smeared. A quick memory flashed in her mind: holding a glass of champagne… suddenly feeling dizzy… Aziz’s mocking smile…
Her jaw clenched. “What did you do to me?”
Justin raised an eyebrow but didn’t move. “Nothing. You came here on your own.”
“That’s a lie.”
He stayed calm, even though she was clearly angry. “It seems you were drugged. I found you stumbling in the hallway outside my room.”
Analia's eyes narrowed. “You expect me to believe that?”
“Believe what you want,” he said, sitting up slightly. The light revealed him more clearly, broad-shouldered, sharp-jawed, eyes an unreadable gray. “You passed out on the carpet. I had two options—leave you there, or bring you inside.”
"And you chose the one that suits your narrative best, I’m sure,” she snapped. “How convenient.”
Justin gave a faint shrug. “You also threw up on my floor, if that helps your timeline.”
Humiliation flushed her face. She swung her legs off the bed and stood up, smoothing out the wrinkles in her dress as she pulled herself together and acted calm again.
“Listen to me carefully,” she said, every word like a threat.“I don’t know who you think you are, but if this gets out, if a single tabloid even breathes a word about me waking up in your room—”
“Then what?” he interrupted, calmly. “You’ll have your lawyers chase me? I’m sure they’re already on speed dial.”
She took a step toward him. “I’ll ruin you, Justin Sallow. Your name, your business, your reputation—I’ll torch it all.”
A pause.
Justin’s gaze didn’t flinch. “Do you even know who I am?”
She scoffed. “Some leech who latched onto a scandal. I’m the CEO of Fernsby Enterprises. You’re a nobody with good lighting.”
Justin stood slowly, taller than she expected. “I’m more than you see.”
Analia crossed her arms. “That’s rich coming from a man hiding behind hotel walls and chance meetings.”
“I’m not hiding. You came to me.”
Her lips curled into a sneer. “I was drugged. Probably by Aziz Villin. That part I remember.”
At the mention of the name, Justin’s eyes darkened. “Then we agree on something.”
She remembered the gala—the fancy ballroom, the sound of glasses clinking, people crowding around her like moths. Aziz walked up with a fake smile and cornered her near the terrace. He handed her a drink. Suddenly, she became dizzy. Scared and confused, she turned and ran, stumbling down the hallway toward her room.
But the room wasn’t hers—she had walked into his.
“You saved me,” she said, more to herself than to him.
Justin’s tone remained even. “You could just say thank you.”
“You should’ve taken me to hospital. Or security. Not here.”
“I made a judgment call.”
“Don’t flatter yourself. You wanted leverage.”
“Believe what you like.”
She turned around, quickly pulling herself together like nothing had happened. Her voice was ice. “No one drugged Analia Fernsby and got away with it. Aziz is finished. And if you think this... whatever this is, gives you power over me, think again.”
Justin watched her quietly for a long moment. Then he said, “Marry me.”
She froze.
“What?”
“Marry me,” he repeated, like he were offering her coffee. “Today, if possible.”
The absurdity hung in the air.
Analia blinked once, then let out a laugh that was sharp enough to draw blood. “You’re insane.”
He didn’t flinch. “Your reputation will be in shambles if this leaks. You left the gala drunk, vanished into a man’s room, and stayed the night. That’s all the public needs.”
“I’ll spin it.”
“Not with Aziz behind it. You know he’s already seeding the narrative.”
She gritted her teeth.
“You’re trying to play savior?” she asked. “This is your angle?”
“I don’t want your empire,” he said. “I want to protect what’s left of your name. My name holds weight in New Avalon. A hasty marriage buys time. Legitimacy. And cover.”
She stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You want me to marry a stranger to save face?”
“Not a stranger. The man who kept you alive last night.”
Analia's expression twisted into contempt. “You think this makes you noble? You think I’m desperate enough to bind myself to you because I had one misstep?”
“I think you know how fast blood smells in this city.”
Her eyes glittered with fury. “I’d rather let the vultures come.”
Justin stepped forward, his voice soft but unmistakably firm. “You don’t have time to let your pride get in the way. Your board, your family, and the media, they’ll all know something’s wrong by noon.”
“I don’t care,” she hissed. “They all already want me gone.”
“Then give them something they can’t touch.”
“I’d rather burn everything I’ve built than play wife to you.”
“Then burn,” he said simply. “But you’ll be ash alone.”
Her slap cracked through the air.
Justin didn’t react. He stood still, his jaw tight and cheek reddened slightly.
“You don’t get to lecture me,” she said, voice trembling with rage. “You don’t get to offer me salvation like I’m some fallen debutante. I clawed my way here.”
“And someone tried to pull you back down,” he said. “Let me help.”
She looked at him again—really looked this time.
Justin Sallow. The name didn’t appear in any of the elite circles she monitored. But his confidence wasn’t fake. He wasn’t shocked by her threats or blinded by her status. That made her uneasy.
She could ruin him.
She should ruin him.
Instead, she stood in silence, her breathing steadying, and her mind calculating.
“No,” she said finally. “I’m not marrying you.”
“Then this city will eat you.”
“I’ve tamed worse.”
Justin gave a half-smile. “Not like this.”
She stepped past him, pausing just before the door. “Stay out of my way, Mr. Sallow. I don’t need rescuing. I don’t need protection. And if you think you’ve inserted yourself into my story, think again.”
He didn’t respond and she didn’t wait.
- Writer
