A Forbidden Night With The Enemy

Blackmail

I woke up sprawled on Naomi’s couch, and my head was pounding. The events of the previous night crashed over me—Darian Wolfe’s hands on my skin, his breath warm against my neck, the knowledge that he was my father’s sworn enemy, and all the terrible things my father told me he had done.

The memory seared into my mind, a reckless mistake I can’t erase. Guilt twisted in my stomach, suffocating me. Naomi’s cheerful humming floated in from the kitchen, a stark contrast to the chaos inside me. I pulled the blanket over my face, attempting to hide from the truth, but it clung to me like a shadow.

Naomi walked in, holding two steaming coffee mugs. Her grin faded as her eyes fell on me.

"Morning, disaster, you look like you lost a fight with a bottle." She shoved a mug at me and settled onto the armrest. "Where did you disappear to last night? I was about to send out a search party."

Gripping the mug, I felt the heat sting my palms as I thought up a lie. "I needed air, the gala was suffocating." My voice cracked, and I forced a shaky smile, hoping she would buy it.

She squinted, leaning closer. "Air? For hours? I saw you with that guy—tall, handsome, total trouble. Spill it, Maria!"

My heart raced, and coffee sloshed in my grip. "She saw me with Darian? How much?"

"Some bar guy," I blurted out, forcing a brittle laugh. "We talked a bit, then I bailed. No big deal."

Her shoulders slumped with disappointment. "Seriously? He was hot, Maria. I thought you’d finally let loose."

I was relieved she didn’t see us leave together. "Just a boring night," I muttered, sipping to mask my trembling lips.

She sighed, playfully swatting my arm. "Lame, next time, give me something spicy and juicy." Just then, my phone buzzed, cutting through her teasing.

A text from my father read: "Home. Now!"

The Reyes estate loomed as I stepped out of the cab, my nerves fraying with every crunch of gravel beneath my shoes. My father waited in his study, his broad shoulders rigid, his eyes piercing.

"Maria, where were you last night?" he demanded. I swallowed hard, my throat dry.

"With Naomi, at her place." His eyes narrowed.

"Were you anywhere near the Wolfe Hotel?"

My pulse quickened as blood rushed into my ears. How did he know? "N-no," I stammered, twisting my hands nervously behind my back. "Why would I be there?"

He leaned forward. "A security breach last night. Someone like you was seen entering the penthouse with Darian Wolfe."

The room tilted at the mention of his name. I fought to appear surprised. "I don’t know anything about that."

Suddenly, the door burst open. "Mr. Reyes, I’m so sorry—she was with me all night! We were watching movies at my place.

She couldn’t have been there," Naomi interrupted. My father’s gaze flicked between us. "Is that so?"

Naomi nodded, her hands clasped tightly. "Yes, sir."

He exhaled, tension easing from his posture. "Fine." But Maria, stay away from that place. The Wolfes are our enemies. "You know that."

"Yes, Father," I croaked, grateful for the momentary relief.

The second the door closed, Naomi spun towards me with a wicked glint in her eye.

"So, you were at the Wolfe Hotel with Darian, huh? You little rebel!" She whispered in disbelief, poking my arm.

"What were you doing with him?"

"It wasn't him," I interrupted hurriedly. "I was there with someone else, but it wasn't him." My inside screamed at her closeness to the truth.

"Oh, this is someone else, huh?" she raised an eyebrow, poking me again. "You lied to me, you little witch. You f****d a stranger in your father’s enemy territory."

"No! I got a cab and left when he asked for it." I protested.

"I hear Darian Wolfe owns that hotel. Ruthless bastard—he bankrupted a guy for just looking at him wrong." She grinned, waggling her brows. "Spill it, Maria, did you really just talk to that guy, or what?"

My stomach lurched—Darian, the man I’d surrendered to. I shook my head, my voice firm. "Nothing happened, Naomi. Drop it."

She sighed, finally picking up on the edge of my tone. "Okay, okay, but you can tell me anything, you know?" I nodded, though the lie burned my tongue. I couldn’t tell her, not this.

"I’ve been thinking about my practice," I said, steering the conversation. "Opening my own office."

Naomi’s eyes lit, taking her focus away from her phone. "Finally! Where?"

"Downtown, maybe," I said, staring at the wall. "Cozy chairs, soft lights, and a few plants. Somewhere people can feel safe."

"Love it," she beamed. "You’re going to kill it, Maria." Her words should have lifted my spirit, but they didn’t.

That evening, I sat cross-legged on the floor, sketching office layouts—desk here, bookshelves there. I envisioned a calm space, a haven for healing, with sunlight streaming through a window and abstract art on the walls. It was everything I had dreamed of since starting my studies in psychology.

But Darian’s shadow crept into my thoughts, tainting them all. How could I guide anyone through their chaos when I had plunged headfirst into my own? One stupid, impulsive night, and I was questioning everything—my judgment, my instincts, my worth. If I couldn't trust myself, how could I help others?

I scribbled harder, the lines jagged on the page. The couch would go by the window, I decided, to catch the light. But my mind kept snagging on Darian—his voice, his hunger, the way I had surrendered to him. I didn’t want him near me, not after what I’d done.

My father’s empire and my future hang in danger because of that night. I tore up the sketch and started over, desperate to focus and prove I’m still capable of building something good.

"Maria? You’re quiet. What’s up?" Naomi asked softly.

I glanced up, forcing a smile. "Just tired. Planning is harder than I thought."

"Get some rest, okay?"

She said before walking out.

I stood up, bent over my sketches. The office design was taking shape—clean lines, warm tones—but the doubt wouldn’t leave me alone. I felt unfit for this role, especially now with my life hanging by a thread.

Darian was a mistake I wanted to bury, a secret I intended to take to my grave. I needed to keep him out of my mind and my life. I tossed my pencil aside and buried my face in my hands. The dream I had of becoming a therapist now felt like a cruel joke.

I wasn’t the woman I thought I was—not after allowing myself to fall for a Wolfe, for the enemy. I needed to move forward, to concentrate on the office and prove I had made more than my mistakes. But the weight of that night pressed down on me, crushing my spirit.

Suddenly, my phone buzzed on the nightstand. Half-asleep in the dark room, I reached for it quickly, expecting it to be Naomi checking in from the next room. But the number was unknown. I opened the text, and my heart raced. Photos began to load, and I felt a chill run through me—Darian and I outside the Wolfe Hotel, his arm around my waist, our faces too close, too revealing.

The message was short: "I have these. Do as I say, or they go on air. Instructions coming soon." My hands trembled. "What have I done?" The phone nearly slipped from my grip. Blackmail! Someone knows. Someone has proof.

Panic surged within me, causing my breath to quicken and become shallow. This could destroy me. My father would never forgive this, and the scandal would shatter our family’s empire and his business—everything. I needed help, but who could I turn to? My father was out of the question—he’d disown me. Naomi was too risky; she might go too far to protect me.

Then it hit me—a desperate, jagged thought: Darian. He’s in those photos too. He’d understand the stakes and the danger. But reaching out to him? After I promised myself I’d keep him out of my life? My stomach churned at the idea. Yet, what choice did I have? The silence pressed in on me, and my heartbeat wasn't helping. I felt trapped, and the clock was ticking.