Chapter 2
624 Words
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CHAPTER TWO:
MORNING AFTER
After Petra left, Greyson returned to that room, stood by the window long after the door closed behind her.
The room still smelled like her,soft, feminine, with something raw beneath it. Sheets tangled. Pillows marked with the shape of bodies that had known each other far too intimately for strangers.
He pressed his palms against the glass.
What had he done?
He had built an empire on control. Discipline. Reputation. Yet one broken night had stripped him bare,not just physically, but morally. This wasn’t the kind of woman he brought into his life. This wasn’t the kind of man he was supposed to be.
And yet… when he closed his eyes, he remembered the way she had touched him. Not rushed. Not careless. Like she knew exactly how to quiet a storm.
That scared him more than the s*x itself.
Petra left the hotel later than usual.
Money sat heavy in her purse, too heavy. Life-changing heavy.
She walked with her head down, but her thoughts were loud.
Men like Greyson didn’t leave business cards. They didn’t ask to talk. They didn’t look at her like she was something fragile instead of something for sale.
She pulled the card out again at a café, fingers trembling slightly.
Greyson’s name was everywhere.
She laughed under her breath.
“Figures.”
Men like that didn’t belong in her world. And women like her didn’t get invited into theirs,except briefly, secretly, and shamefully.
So why did she feel like she’d been seen?
They met the next evening.
Not in a hotel. Not in a bar.
A quiet café overlooking the city, where people talked about art and life and nothing that mattered to survival.
She arrived guarded, dressed modestly, armor disguised as simplicity.
Greyson stood when she approached.
“Thank you for coming.”
She shrugged. “You paid for my time.”
“No,” he said gently. “I paid for the night. This,this is something else.”
She studied him. He looked different. Less perfect. More human.
They introduced themselves and talked.
At first, it was safe, music, travel, food. Then slowly, he asked questions no one ever asked her.
“What do you like?”
“What scares you?”
“What would you do if you didn’t have to survive?”
Her walls cracked.
She didn’t tell him everything. Not yet. But she told him enough.
And when he listened,really listened,something inside her shifted.
They talked for a while before an urgent call came in and hurriedly whisked Greyson away.
“Let’s meet again” Greyson said as he left
Weeks passed and they began to meet often.
At first, they met and didn’t touch.
Sometimes they sat too close, knees brushing, laughed electricity humming where skin almost met.
Other times… restraint failed.
One night,they met in his apartment, rain pounding the windows, tension snapped.
Greyson kissed her first, hesitant, searching. She answered with hunger she had long buried. Hands slid. Breath caught. Clothes loosened, discarded without ceremony.
He carried her, laid her down like something precious.
The way he touched her was different, slow, reverent, as if memorizing her instead of consuming her.
She clutched him, afraid and wanting all at once.
They had each other and afterward, tangled together in the dark, Petra whispered,
“You shouldn’t want me.”
His arm tightened around her.
“I don’t want what you do,” he said. “I want who you are.”
She sobbed quietly against his chest and the next morning, before Greyson woke up, she was gone.
No message. No warning.
Just absence.
And for the first time in his life, the billionaire realized money couldn’t buy the one thing he wanted most.
- Writer
