Chapter 3
1268 Words
“Please, Audrey,” I begged. “Rethink this. Where am I supposed to get that kind of money?”
“You should have thought about that before spreading your legs,” she replied coldly, throwing me one last filthy look before walking away.
The door closed.
It felt like my heart was clawing its way out of my ribcage. I did exactly what she asked—and still, it blew up in my face. I should have known better. My body went numb, my knees giving out as I sank to the floor.
What am I going to do now?
Even if I sold my furniture, my car—everything—it would never be enough.
“Elara?”
Stacy’s voice broke through, and suddenly I was crying—full, ugly sobs I couldn’t stop. She didn’t even hesitate before pulling me into her arms.
It took her less than five minutes to get me inside and seated. I didn’t know where to begin—selling myself, my father dying, my life falling apart all at once.
“Come,” she said gently. “I’ll make us some tea.”
I sat at the counter while she moved around the kitchen. Everything felt heavy, unreal.
“So,” she asked softly, sliding a cup toward me. “What happened?”
“I honestly don’t even know where to start,” I said with a broken laugh. “The last twenty-four hours have been a complete mess.”
She gave me a look, and reality snapped back into place.
“No—sorry,” I sighed. “Things have just been… bad.”
“I know your dad’s in the hospital,” she said carefully. “But he is getting better, right?”
“Yes,” I answered, then hesitated. “But I don’t know for how long.”
She frowned, and I explained.
“Audrey controls the finances now. She doesn’t think he needs a private hospital. The bills are piling up, and I can’t pay a cent.”
“She’s his wife. How can she do that?”
“She doesn’t have a heart,” I said quietly.
Stacy’s eyes drifted to the stack of unpaid bills near the door.
“Still no luck with work?”
“Nothing. It’s like she’s blacklisted me everywhere. If she won’t pay, then I have to—and I need a job fast.”
My phone rang, cutting through the air.
Doctor.
My chest tightened as I answered. “Is everything okay?”
“Calm down, child,” he said kindly. “Your father is stable. I just wanted to check in—I didn’t see you earlier.”
Relief flooded me.
“I had to go to a job interview,” I lied.
“He wouldn’t want you glued to his bedside,” the doctor said. “He’d be proud of you.”
“Thank you,” I whispered. “But… why are you calling?”
“Can we meet tomorrow morning? Coffee, before my rounds.”
My stomach flipped—until he added, “We need to discuss your father’s medical bill.”
“Of course,” I said quickly. We agreed on a time and ended the call.
Stacy looked at me. “Everything okay?”
“He wants to talk about the bills,” I said. “I guess Audrey still isn’t paying.”
“She’s a heartless b***h,” Stacy muttered.
We drank our tea while she talked about her Europe trip. I smiled, but jealousy curled quietly in my chest.
Before she left, she offered to ask her dad about work at his restaurant. I thanked her, meaning it more than she knew.
When the door closed behind her, silence filled the apartment.
My eyes drifted to my wallet on the counter.
And suddenly I was back in that room.
His hand tangled in my hair, pulling my head back just enough. The warmth of his lips against my neck. The way his touch had traced over my shoulders, my waist—like he already knew exactly how my body would respond.
My breath caught.
I hated that my skin still remembered.
Hated that my body reacted before my mind could stop it.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t forget how it felt in that moment—how wanted I had been.
And that scared me more than anything.
Dominic Blackwood P.O.V
He woke to silence.
Not the empty kind—but the wrong kind.
His arm moved instinctively, reaching for warmth that was no longer there. The sheets were cold. The space beside him untouched. Empty.
She was gone.
He sat up slowly, jaw tightening as his eyes scanned the room. The door was closed. The bed disturbed only on one side. No note. No explanation.
A smile tugged at his lips—not amused. Interested.
Most women stayed. Some tried to pretend they hadn’t. None disappeared like smoke.
He could still feel her.
The way her body had melted into his without permission. The way she had tried to be distant and failed. Her breath, uneven. Her reactions—honest, untrained, unguarded.
She hadn’t belonged in his bed.
Which made it worse.
His gaze dropped to the bedside table—and stopped.
The card was gone.
For a moment, the room went very still.
Then he laughed, low and quiet.
“Brave,” he murmured.
She had no idea what she’d taken. Or who she’d taken it from. And yet—something about that made his blood stir instead of boil.
She hadn’t come for the money.
She had come desperate. Cornered. Burning.
He didn’t dress right away.
Instead, he reached for his phone.
“One question,” he said the moment the call connected. “Who was the woman I slept with last night?”
There was a pause on the other end. Careful. Curious.
“That’s not usually something you ask,” his man replied.
“Today it is,” he said flatly.
Silence stretched. Then keys clicking. Background noise. Investigation already underway.
“She wasn’t booked under a name,” the man said finally. “Room was paid in advance. Masked guest. No ID logged.”
His jaw tightened.
“Find her.”
Another pause. “You don’t usually chase—”
“I’m not chasing,” he interrupted calmly. “I’m reclaiming.”
His eyes drifted back to the bed, to the faint impression she’d left behind. The way she’d tried to pretend she didn’t want him. The way her body had told the truth anyway.
“She took my card,” he added.
A sharp inhale on the other end. “Should I cancel it?”
“No.” His lips curved, slow and dangerous. “Let her use it.”
That would lead him straight to her.
“She didn’t come to me for money,” he continued. “She came desperate. Cornered.”
And desperate women always made mistakes.
“Start with the hospitals,” he ordered. “Private ones. Outstanding bills. Anyone who paid using my card.”
“Yes, sir.”
The call ended.
And she had left thinking she’d disappear.
He rose from the bed, tattoos shifting as his muscles tightened. He already knew this wouldn’t be the end—not for him. Not for her.
He would find her.
Not because of the card.
But because no woman had ever walked away from him like that—and stayed in his thoughts the way she already had.
And when he did find her?
This time, she wouldn’t leave.
- Writer
