Layla's POV
"Don't make any sound, Layla. Don't wake him up."
Carefully, I slipped out of the strong arms that were wrapped around me. The chiseled abs pressed against my naked body made me feel eerily warm. There was a certain way the air smelt — a fusion of sex, sweat, and chaos.
My thighs ached. I turned around quietly to take a glance at the huge wall mirror. My golden blonde tresses were a mess. My neck was covered with bruises, and my lips were swollen. My head kept buzzing. What did I agree to?
But, unaware of everything around him, the man next to me slept blissfully. His finely tousled raven hair covered his forehead. Gentle freckles marked his skin. His long nose didn't seem as intimidating, but it was sexy all the same.
His chest heaved every now and then, indicating he was still alive. Of course, people don't die from sex—despite what I'd been told when I was a child.
I exhaled, moving his arms away from me. A low grunt escaped his perfect lips as he shifted. His lips had a well-pronounced Cupid's bow. And when—and if—he smiled, they paired quite beautifully with a pair of dimples. He was breathtaking in the scariest ways known to women.
"Just what was I thinking?"
The hazy recollections of last night hadn't left me altogether. I still couldn't remember it all. It was probably the fact that I hadn't had any drinks in a long time. But who could blame me, when he was the one who approached me with the proposition?
Even now, one gaze at him made my cheeks flush with warmth. His frame rested against the king-size bed. The room was an unfamiliar one, and yet, his presence was what was making me grow weary.
"How did it start, exactly?"
It was hard to know what had led to this. I wasn't someone you'd find partying in a club. I certainly wasn't someone who had casual sex. Why then?
Another low grunt.
He turned. The sheet shuffled, exposing his naked body. The perfect V leading down to his thighs. And that thing between them—
Oh God.
Promptly, I looked away. Sure, a little glance wouldn't hurt, one would think. Wrong. I was sore on the inside. It was throbbing. Deep. Plummeting me out of my senses. It felt so good—so good, that I now knew it was bad. This was all a bad idea.
*************
The Day Before
I was finding a way out of the chaos I was inadvertently dragged into. My foster brother got involved with the wrong people. And then, they found us. I didn't want us to part ways. But when the Mob found us, there was no means to escape. Only disguise.
It wasn't easy. I had slipped through the back door. By that time, I was already running. I didn't turn my back to take in the vague details.
I walked for as long as I could. Till I met him.
He seemed like a gentleman at first. He certainly dressed like one. Something about his accent screamed he wasn't from around here. There was a spark in his brown eyes—almost domineering.
"Are you lost?" he asked, as I kept walking on the sidewalks.
I dismissed him for a creep. There was enough trouble going around for me to get into another one. Crawford wasn't exactly screaming 'safe' these days. Especially with the new mafia families moving in.
I gulped and kept walking. Till I could walk no more. And for the second time, I met him—inside the club. Yesterday.
He was the one to approach me, even this time. My attire didn't exactly scream 'party scene'—a white tube top, messy blonde hair, and a pair of worn-out jeans put together for an outfit.
But then, the scary-looking bouncers outside didn't really stop me.
"Care for a drink, miss? It's funny I should see you here," he chuckled in a low, husky voice.
"Oh well..." I fumbled for words. "I would have a mocktail. I cannot hold my drinks," I finally managed to say. It would be rude to say 'no' outright. I already had a knack for making things awkward.
"One 'Sex on the Beach' for the lady," he said to the bartender, who was already balancing a tray.
"Coming right up, Master Darren," he said, serving them and returning to the counter right after.
I gulped at the mention of the name. For some reason, it seemed very familiar. I couldn't seem to figure out why.
"Thank you" was all I could offer in my bleak voice. And he nodded.
He reached for the bottle on the shelf and poured himself a glass. Panic surged in.
"Are you even allowed to do that?" I wondered. He might have heard me. With all that music around, it should be impossible.
Next, I knew he was leaning into me.
"I know you are not allowed to be here too, Little Dove," his voice melted in my ear.
"Why? Do—do I not look old enough?" I asked, slightly annoyed. Not that he was wrong. But was it that obvious?
"No girl parties alone. Certainly not with bruised feet," his warm breath licked my nape.
"It must have been the walk. I lost my cab fare," I lied through my teeth.
I hoped he would buy that and leave me alone. My insides argued with my lack of tact. Really? Lost my cab fare? What was I, eighteen?
In the twenty-one years of my life, today was by far the most embarrassing day of them all. Surely, I had worse days. I lost my parents and strangely have no recollection of the day it happened. My foster family couldn't care less about what I do with my life. And if you add a whole crackhead brother into the mix, it truly makes life one hell of a disaster.
But it will all be over soon.
"You could have asked me to take you. I promise, I don't bite," his nose rubbed against my neck. The surge of pheromones blasted through the air. I knew it was wrong, but it felt strangely comforting.
"I don't even know you," I said, biting into my bottom lip.
"That's on me, I believe. Tell me, what do you want to know, Little Dove?" he bit gently into my ear.
"Your drinks are here," the bartender announced.
I took it as a cue for leaving. Right then. Any closer, and any more favors would make sure that I got myself into trouble. Certainly, this man wasn't someone to be messed with.
"I'm sorry. I think I should go," I said, straightening my top, walking to the exit.
What was I even thinking? Making a pit stop at a club while running from goons?
I wouldn't have to worry about things like that. This was the only night when things had gotten ugly. Tomorrow, I would leave for my interview, and things would fall back into place. That's what I kept telling myself.
I remember walking out in something of a daze. That's when I crashed into him. My ex-boyfriend.
"You, again?" I was appalled.
"Whoa—fancy running into you at a sex club, Layla. Who are you here with? Another sugar daddy?" His smug face was making my blood boil.
"Enough, Julian. I don't need a repeat of anything or everything. I was just... getting a drink before I leave for Crawford Central," I said. Why did I have to justify it all in front of him?
After all, it was Julian who had cheated on me. That too, with her.
"You're not fooling anyone, dressing like a slut. My girlfriend's out of town. I could use some time to reconcile, Layla. What do you say?" He eyed me like a lowlife.
"Get away from me!" I barked, aiming for the exit.
"Is something the matter?" His tone iced over. His muscles materialized behind me, brushing so close to my body.
"Alphonso, hey!" Julian's voice had an almost passable tremble. His demeanor changed almost immediately.
"Layla and I... are friends. Are you two together?" he asked, with a hidden undertone. His jaw flexed.
"We are," he said behind me. Before I could turn around or correct him, Julian left us alone.
"Little Dove... we don't say goodbyes in a hurry around here. Or are you afraid of me?" His voice was commanding.
I turned around, and our gaze met.
"I—I didn't mean to. I just have places to be," I argued. But something told me I was digging my own grave.
"Surely. One drink wouldn't hurt. A real drink for a lady," his fingers brushed against my arms as he pushed me to the back of the wall. His body loomed over me like a sinister threat.
"Why'd you lie to him?" I asked.
"I do not lie, Little Dove," his fingers traced the side of my jaw. He leaned in, one breath at a time. Till the distance became unbearable, he closed his lips on mine.
Slow. Irresistible. His lips tugged onto mine like passion fire. I felt myself caving in, asking for more.
And just like that, I was lost. Just like that, I had made the biggest mistake of my life.
***********
Present Day
This couldn't get any worse!
I stepped out, quietly reaching for my clothes. Only to find them nowhere. Confused, I looked around. Now, where would I leave my stuff if I was hooking up casually?
I didn't remember the finer details of where we were. Was this a hotel room? I watched the interiors in awe. Everything was a clinical white and black with minimalistic decor. How strange!
In a corner, a flimsy white gown piled over a fine tuxedo. I tried not to make any noise when I felt the familiar warmth around me.
I gasped.
Turning around to find a naked Alphonso, smirking.
"Old habits don't die easy, do they?" he sneered, leaning in. "Wife," he pressed, and I felt my eyes widening.
"Wife?" I was horrified by the way it sounded.
"Surely. I won't expect you to remember. But surely, I can help you refresh the memory of our ceremonial night," his hands rested on my behind, pulling me closer to his front.
"What are you talking about?" I asked, and he chuckled. My head began to hurt.
"Here," he said, letting go as he reached for a laminated sheet.
Marriage Certificate
We hereby approve the ceremonious union of Mr. Alphonso Darren with Mrs. Layla Darren (née Chen) under the State Counsel of Ministry of Family Affairs, Registrar Council, Crawford.
***
Alphonso's POV
I don't believe in love.
There's nothing I despise more than emotions. They cloud judgment. Make men weak.
The Capo taught me that. Taught me everything I know.
The heart is a liability. Trust it, and you bleed.
Still, here she was—Layla Chen.
Worming her way beneath my skin with something I couldn't name.
If it was anything, it had to be hate.
She was just like her brother. Sly. Dangerous. Too soft, too calm for someone capable of setting a man's life ablaze.
She slept beside me now, her bare body entangled with mine, like we belonged to each other.
Like she hadn't turned my world inside out.
What the hell was I doing?
I had no reason to marry her.
Her family didn't deserve mercy.
Her brother, Kaifer Chen, was the scum of the earth. He impregnated my sister, used her to siphon money from the Capo and anyone foolish enough to believe him—and then disappeared.
I swore I'd make him pay. I swore I'd destroy his bloodline.
But with her…
I hesitated.
She stirred in her sleep, pressing against me.
Golden hair spilled across her back. My jaw clenched.
Was that their tactic? The Chens?
Seduce. Deceive. Survive.
She was high out of her mind when she signed that contract. Stupid enough to scarf down a hash brownie without asking questions.
Soon after, she was clinging to me like a lifeline.
Cant helped me bring her to the club. She could barely walk, let alone hold her top in place.
And then, as if she had something to prove, she started undressing.
Before passing out cold.
Layla Chen was a mess. A beautiful, confusing mess I didn't want to understand.
I'd seen too many women to count. I knew their games.
I owned a sex club. I knew every craving, every secret people begged to hide.
And women like her? They were simple. They wanted power, protection, pleasure.
They didn't want men. They wanted what men could give them.
But Layla?
She wanted nothing.
And maybe that's what made her dangerous.
***