A One Nightstand To Live For

Chapter4

Claire

His eyes were dark with what I couldn't decipher as he stared at me from across the room. The air felt too heavy, too charged, and my heart pounded in my chest like it was trying to escape.

Rowen Duke. The father of my child. And here I was, standing in his office, begging for help like some desperate stranger.

He leaned back against his chair, his fingers steepled under his chin. The silence stretched between us, growing unbearable with every passing second.

"If you need financial assistance," he finally said, his voice clipped and formal, "go through HR. Get interviewed. If you’re qualified, you’ll be employed."

My stomach twisted. His tone was indifferent, like I was just another face, just another problem he had to deal with.

I shook my head, the words spilling out before I could stop them. "Rowen, please. I—I don’t have time for that. I need the money now. It’s urgent."

His brow arched, but he said nothing, his gaze cold and detached.

I took a shaky step forward, clutching my purse tightly. "I’ll pay it back. Every penny. Just… just lend it to me, and I’ll do whatever it takes to return it."

His expression didn’t change. If anything, his silence made it worse.

The man sitting in front of me was nothing like the one I’d met all those years ago. That night, he’d been intoxicating—charming, confident, irresistible. Now, he was distant, a stranger cloaked in power and authority.

But then again, weren’t we always strangers?

He didn’t know that night had changed my life forever. He didn’t know about Ted or the struggles I’d faced since then. To him, I was probably just some woman who’d walked into his office looking for a handout.

"Claire," he said finally, his voice dropping an octave. The sound of my name on his lips sent a shiver down my spine. "You want me to lend you money? Just like that?"

I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat.

He stood slowly, rounding the desk with a deliberate pace. My breath hitched as he closed the distance between us, his towering frame casting a shadow over me.

"How do I know you’ll return it?" he asked, his tone low and edged with something dangerous.

"I—I will," I stammered, backing up until I felt the hard edge of his desk pressing against my lower back.

His lips curved into a smirk, and he leaned in, his face inches from mine. "You’ll do anything, huh?"

The faint scent of his cologne—spice and cedar—wrapped around me, and it took every ounce of strength I had not to bury my face against his chest.

I could feel his breath against my cheek, warm and unsettling. His dark eyes studied me, intense and unrelenting, as though he could see straight through me.

"You’ll have to earn it," he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent heat coursing between my legs.

My lips parted, but no words came out.

He raised a hand, his fingers trailing lightly down my quivering arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

"And since this," he gestured between us, "is what you’re good at, why not stick to what you know? Get in bed with me."

The words hung in the air like a challenge, and my heart twisted painfully in my chest as he planted his hand under my shirt, his palm coming in contact with my skin and making me shiver with want. Then he started trailing upwards, his eyes not leaving mine.

"How dare you," I whispered, the words shaky but laced with as much venom as I could muster.

But his smirk only widened, and he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against my ear. "Isn’t that what you want, Claire? To feel alive again?"

Something inside me shattered. A part of me—the part that had been numb for so long—stirred at his words. And for a fleeting moment, I wanted to say yes.

No one had ever made me feel the way he did—not before that night, not since.

But then reality slammed back into me. This wasn’t about me. This wasn’t about the lingering feelings I didn’t want to admit to or the s*x I'd been dreaming about for years. This was about Ted.

I drew in a sharp breath, summoning every ounce of strength I had, and pushed against his chest.

"Don’t," I said firmly, my voice shaking but resolute.

He didn’t move at first, his gaze locked onto mine like he was daring me to falter.

But then, slowly, he stepped back, his smirk fading into something unreadable.

"Suit yourself," he said coolly, turning back toward his desk. "But don’t expect me to hand over anything without a price."

I stood there for a moment, my hands trembling and my chest heaving as I tried to steady my breath.

"Then I’ll find another way," I said quietly, my voice breaking despite my best efforts to keep it steady.

Rowen didn’t look at me as he sat back down, his focus already shifting to the stack of papers on his desk.

"Good luck," he said, his tone dismissive.

Tears burned at the corners of my eyes as I turned and walked out of his office, the weight of his words pressing down on me like a physical burden.

But as the door closed behind me, I made a silent vow.

I wouldn’t get back in his bed.

I sank into the couch, clutching the phone so tightly that my knuckles turned white. My heart still hadn’t slowed after leaving Rowen’s office.

"I can’t believe I was even considering it," I whispered into the receiver, my voice shaking with a mix of exhaustion and shame. "Lyla, I was this close to saying yes."

The other end of the line was silent for a moment before Lyla spoke, her tone cautious. "And it wasn’t just about the money, was it?"

I closed my eyes, pressing the heels of my palms against them. "No," I admitted. "It wasn’t."

"Claire…"

I took a shaky breath. "It’s him, Lyla. He makes me feel…" My voice trailed off, and I swallowed the lump in my throat. "It’s been seven years, and no one—no one—has made me feel the way he does. Not even close."

Lyla sighed. "You still have wet dreams about him, don’t you?"

A laugh burst out of me, half-bitter and half-sincere. "I mean, who wouldn’t? It was the best s*x of my life, Lyla. The best. Nothing else even comes close."

She chuckled softly, but her tone shifted back to serious. "Claire, listen. I get it. He’s hot, and he obviously knows how to make a woman lose her mind. But selling your dignity for him? Or for anyone? It’s not worth it. You’re worth so much more than that."

Her words landed heavily in my chest, the truth of them cutting through the fog of desperation and guilt.

"Thank you," I said, my voice quieter now. "I don’t know what I’d do without you."

"You’d probably do something stupid," Lyla quipped, though her voice was gentle. "But seriously, Claire. You’re stronger than this. You’ll figure it out, like you always do."

"I’ll try," I murmured.

"Good," she said firmly. "And call me if you need to talk, okay? Anytime."

We said our goodbyes, and I hung up the phone, only for it to ring again immediately. My stomach dropped when I saw the doctor’s number on the screen.