Innocent Elara

Chapter 2

“Are you asking me to sell myself?” I asked, taken aback by what she was suggesting.

“No,” Audrey replied coolly. “I’m negotiating business. It would be a tragedy if your father died… or is that what you want?”

“What are you implying?” I raised my voice, fury rising. “That I want my father dead?”

She smiled again—slow, sharp. “Your name is still on the will, Elara. Perhaps you’d enjoy inheriting all that wealth for yourself.”

“I am not you,” I spat.

Her expression hardened. “Fine. Your father will be moved by dawn.” She picked up her phone, already dialing.

Without hesitation, I stopped her. Panic clawed at my chest. I couldn’t let my father die—he was the only family I had left. I knew, deep down, that he loved me, even if he never knew how to show it.

“I’ll do it,” I said quickly.

She ended the call. “Good choice. Your father would be so proud.”

She slid a hotel key card across the desk. “Room 203. Be there by eight.”

She reached the door, then turned back. “Oh—and wear something nice. I don’t want my client thinking you’ll give him an STD.”

The door closed behind her.

I stared at the key card in my hand. How am I going to do this? I had promised myself I’d save myself for my husband one day—and now that promise was gone. Tears slid down my cheeks as the weight of it crushed me, but I had no choice. Audrey wouldn’t pay the bills without ruining me first.

I wiped my tears and left the house quietly.

I had five hours.

I drove straight to the nearest boutique and bought a delicate black lace set—simple, elegant, revealing enough to please. On my way to pay, I spotted a sleek black mask. Something about it made me feel safer, hidden. I bought it too.

At home, I showered, curled my hair, applied smoky eyes and red lips. I dressed slowly, methodically, as if delaying the inevitable. A long white coat. Black stilettos. Silver necklace and matching earrings.

I barely recognized myself in the mirror.

Why am I doing this? I thought bitterly. Giving up something precious for a man who barely protected me.

I added perfume, slipped the key card and mask into my handbag, and drove to the hotel.

The place screamed money. Audrey’s client had to be filthy rich.

When I reached the elevator, my courage faltered. My chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe.

A bar caught my eye.

Drunk people lose their virginity all the time, I told myself. If I was drunk, maybe it wouldn’t hurt as much. Maybe I wouldn’t remember.

“Five tequila shots,” I told the bartender.

Within seconds, I downed all five.

By the time I reached the floor, my head was spinning. My heart raced as I found the door. I swiped the card once—nothing. Tried again.

The door opened suddenly, and strong hands pulled me inside.

My back hit the door as it closed behind me.

“So,” a dark, amused voice murmured, “you finally decided to show up, amour.”

He stood before me—tall, broad, impossibly composed. I could see his face clearly now: sharp features, intense eyes that stripped me bare without touching me. Tattoos covered his neck and hands, disappearing beneath his sleeves—dark, intricate ink that spoke of danger and control.

I tried to speak, but his mouth claimed mine first.

The kiss was deep, consuming, silencing every thought. His hands framed my face, then slid down my back, steadying me as my knees weakened. I had imagined this moment would be painful, terrifying.

Instead, my body betrayed me.

I trembled beneath his touch, craving more with every second. His lips moved from mine, brushing my jaw, my ear.

“Relax,” he murmured. “I won’t break what’s already mine tonight.”

I didn’t know why those words made my heart pound harder.

He guided me toward the bed, his presence overwhelming, intoxicating. The world faded—the guilt, the fear, the sacrifice—until all that existed was the man with tattoos and the choice I had already made.

And when the door clicked shut behind us, there was no turning back.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Elara’s pulse roared in her ears as she stood there, mask still on, breath uneven. The room felt too quiet, too close. She was suddenly aware of everything—her bare skin beneath lace, the weight of his gaze, the heat radiating from his body.

He stepped closer.

Up close, she could see him clearly now. His face was hard and devastatingly handsome, dark eyes watching her like she was something he intended to unravel slowly. Tattoos curled over his neck and disappeared beneath his shirt, bold ink etched into tanned skin—marks of a life that didn’t forgive easily.

“You’re shaking,” he said softly.

“I’m fine,” she lied.

One tattooed hand lifted, fingers brushing her jaw. The touch wasn’t gentle, but it wasn’t rough either—it was deliberate, claiming her attention completely. He tilted her face up, forcing her to meet his eyes.

“No,” he murmured. “You’re terrified.”

Before she could respond, his mouth covered hers.

The kiss stole her breath. It wasn’t rushed—it was deep, controlled, as if he wanted to feel every reaction she couldn’t hide. Her hands fisted in his shirt without permission, her body responding even as her mind screamed at her to stop.

He backed her toward the bed, never breaking the kiss, his presence overwhelming. When her knees hit the mattress, he followed, bracing himself over her, his weight a promise and a threat all at once.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” he said against her lips. “I see you.”

His hands explored slowly—over her sides, her back—learning her, steadying her. Each touch sent heat racing through her veins, dissolving the fear into something dangerously close to need.

She should have hated how her body responded.

She didn’t.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against hers, his breath warm. “Tell me to stop,” he said quietly.

The words lodged in her throat.

Instead, she reached for him.

That was all the permission he needed.

The room faded—the guilt, the sacrifice, the reason she was there—until all that remained was the man with tattoos and the way he made her forget everything else. The bed dipped beneath them, the night swallowing her whole as she surrendered to the choice she had already made.

And by the time dawn came, nothing about her life would ever be the same.

The next morning, I was woken by a stream of sunlight that found my eyes, making it impossible to fall back asleep. I looked down, only to realize I was still naked—still in bed with the man from last night.

I cursed out loud. Staying the night had been a mistake.

I shifted, only to feel his arm still wrapped tightly around my waist. Panic shot through me as I carefully untangled myself, slipping out from his hold and placing a pillow where I had been moments before.

The moment I really looked at him, regret slammed into me.

I should never have drunk that much.

This was Audrey’s plan all along, wasn’t it? She had set me up to sleep with my father’s rival—the man he hated most. Of course she had. This was her way of finally getting rid of me.

My heart raced as I scanned the room for my clothes, clinging to the last shred of dignity I had left. I dressed quickly, my hands trembling, and pulled on my coat.

That’s when my eyes landed on the bank card resting on the bedside table.

He must have been just as drunk as I was. There was no way he’d remember everything. He would never knowingly sleep with his rival’s daughter. The thought made my stomach twist.

Audrey was planning something. I could feel it.

Without allowing myself to think further, I grabbed the card and slipped it into my wallet. I’ll use this as collateral damage, I told myself. Just until I figure things out.

I looked at him one last time—the man who had taken the one thing that meant everything to me—then turned and left the room.

When I got home, I went straight into the shower, desperate to wash him off me. But no matter how hard the water beat down, memories of the night crept back in.

My body had betrayed me in ways it never had before.

The warmth. The feeling of being wanted. The way his lips brushed against mine, the way his hands explored me as if he already knew me.

Heat curled low in my stomach again, and I hated myself for it.

The shower cut short when someone began pounding on my front door.

Startled, I shut off the water, threw on some clothes, and rushed to open it—only to find Audrey standing there, fury written across her face.

“Where the f**k were you?” she demanded.

“I just got back from your client,” I replied sharply.

Her laugh was cold, cruel.

“You went to the wrong f*****g room, you slut,” she snapped. “I’m not paying for daddy dearest’s treatment anymore.”

My breath caught.

“Spreading your legs for a random man instead of the one I arranged?” she sneered. “Did you really think I’d still help you after that?”The next morning, I was woken by a stream of sunlight that found my eyes, making it impossible to fall back asleep. I looked down, only to realize I was still naked—still in bed with the man from last night.

I cursed out loud. Staying the night had been a mistake.

I shifted, only to feel his arm still wrapped tightly around my waist. Panic shot through me as I carefully untangled myself, slipping out from his hold and placing a pillow where I had been moments before.

The moment I really looked at him, regret slammed into me.

I should never have drunk that much.

This was Audrey’s plan all along, wasn’t it? She had set me up to sleep with my father’s rival—the man he hated most. Of course she had. This was her way of finally getting rid of me.

My heart raced as I scanned the room for my clothes, clinging to the last shred of dignity I had left. I dressed quickly, my hands trembling, and pulled on my coat.

That’s when my eyes landed on the bank card resting on the bedside table.

He must have been just as drunk as I was. There was no way he’d remember everything. He would never knowingly sleep with his rival’s daughter. The thought made my stomach twist.

Audrey was planning something. I could feel it.

Without allowing myself to think further, I grabbed the card and slipped it into my wallet. I’ll use this as collateral damage, I told myself. Just until I figure things out.

I looked at him one last time—the man who had taken the one thing that meant everything to me—then turned and left the room.

When I got home, I went straight into the shower, desperate to wash him off me. But no matter how hard the water beat down, memories of the night crept back in.

My body had betrayed me in ways it never had before.

The warmth. The feeling of being wanted. The way his lips brushed against mine, the way his hands explored me as if he already knew me.

Heat curled low in my stomach again, and I hated myself for it.

The shower cut short when someone began pounding on my front door.

Startled, I shut off the water, threw on some clothes, and rushed to open it—only to find Audrey standing there, fury written across her face.

“Where the f**k were you?” she demanded.

“I just got back from your client,” I replied sharply.

Her laugh was cold, cruel.

“You went to the wrong f*****g room, you slut,” she snapped. “I’m not paying for daddy dearest’s treatment anymore.”

My breath caught.

“Spreading your legs for a random man instead of the one I arranged?” she sneered. “Did you really think I’d still help you after that?”